Nobody wants to be a hipster.

These days, it’s the biggest insult. It means something bad. Something very, very bad. But what, I have only some idea.

It has something to do with irony, superfluous scarves, tight jeans and indie music – whatever that means in the age of the Internet – anything other than Glee cast covers and Ke$ha?

I wasn’t offended when I was called, by proxy, a hipster. The Huffington Post recently ranked my alma mater Grinnell College as the “Most Hipster College” of the year.

Granted, I attended Grinnell almost four years ago, when I was more familiar with “emo” as the insult of the day rather than the loathsome “hipster.”

“Iowa isn’t necessarily a destination for the cool and connected, but isn’t that the kind of thing hipsters love?” the HuffPo description begins. It cites ironic clothes like mom jeans, giant teddy bear sweaters and aviator glasses and takes into account that the rent in the town of Grinnell is cheap, the city is walkable and there’s no Greek life.

I thought the affiliation was funny, because, obviously, I’m not a hipster. But then – isn’t that the ultimate mark of a hipster – denial of their very hipsterdom?

I wear skinny jeans, I’m not in a sorority and I walk places. For PBR’s sake, I say things like “HuffPo.” Am I a hipster?

Philip Corbett asked his colleagues at the New York Times to refrain from using the word, which appeared in the publication over 250 times last year. He argues that the term has lost its freshness and doesn’t convey a precise meaning.

I’d have to agree.

The HuffPo list describes the other top schools’ hipsterness equally as ambiguously as Grinnell’s, citing defining factors as art programs, outdoor adventure sports and famous hipster alumni.

The word’s use is so pervasive and is applicable to such a wide range of attributes, clothing items and tastes that nearly everyone has a little bit of hipster in them. When everyone’s a hipster, no one is, and the term is meaningless.

The only thing cooler than hipster-denial is hipster hatred. But that’s not fair. Like any label, its use is too broad and too simplifying.

I know there are people who wear certain clothes or say they like certain movies or bands because they think it will make them seem cool or trendy. Those people exist in all subcultures – not just in hipsterville.

I’m sure some hipsters are these “poseurs,” if you will, but I’d hesitate to say it’s all of them or even the majority of them.

NIU didn’t make the top 11 hipster schools, but like any place with young people, there are bound to be Parliament cigarettes, feather extensions, one-speed bikes and beards.

The people I know who might be called “hipsters” or “semi-hipsters” are good people. Real people. Who genuinely like the things they do. I can’t assume everyone I meet wearing neon Ray-bans and a plaid shirt is someone I’m not going to like. What kind of approach to half of my generation is that?

Perhaps the ultimate irony for a subculture that supposedly basks in the disingenuine will be the reclamation, or just clamation, of the label.

Then it would really be meaningless. And we can all find some more descriptive, narrowly-defined and unique words with which to insult each other.

But I’m not going to lead the charge; I’m not a hipster, you poo-poo head!