A Man Angered That His Photo Was Used To Prove Hipsters Look Alike Turned Out To Be A Doppelganger
Close your eyes and conjure up whatever you imagine when you hear the word "hipster." Are you seeing what we're seeing? Someone with a plaid shirt, skinny jeans, scruffy beard, thick-framed glasses, and an inexplicable beanie in 90-degree weather? It's like a uniform they're awarded after completing Exasperated Sigh University with a master's in Ironic Boredom.
Researchers at MIT noticed that too, and because scientific publishing has become a depressing game of whose study has the most eye-catching headline, MIT Technology Review published a study titled "The hipster effect: Why anti-conformists always end up looking the same." Shortly after publication, one such hipster came across the piece and spat his charcoal latte and avocado toast all over his computer screen when he saw that the picture accompanying the article wasn't just any random hipster; it was him. Incensed, he contacted the publication's editor-in-chief, Gideon Lichfield, demanding to know why his photo was used without his consent and threatening to pursue legal action.
PeopleImages / Getty Images"I'm not happy about you using photos of three of my friends, either."
If this was a normal story, he'd simply learn the hard way that anyone can use anything you post on Instagram. But Lichfield was confused. He'd gotten the photo from Getty Images, a stock photo giant used by every major media outlet. Lichfield contacted Getty, which confirmed that the man in the photo was a stock model, and then the angry hipster, who confirmed that he was not. It was a different person entirely. Lichfield chronicled the whole ordeal on Twitter, marveling that "[h]ipsters look so much alike that they can't even tell themselves apart from each other." So either the study was correct, or Jordan Peele has a food-truck-themed sequel to Us in the works.
Art Fraudsters Were Defrauded By The People They Were Trying To Defraud
In 2003, two brothers living in Spain bought a Goya original for 270,000 euros that turned out to be merely a "some guy" original. The seller provided them with a certificate of authenticity and everything, but that too had been forged. They sued and got back the 20,000-euro deposit they had already paid. But it gave them an idea, since this was apparently the first time they'd heard of art forgery. They decided to sell the painting as a Goya original and turn a profit themselves. What a concept, right?
They found a buyer in a mysterious Italian middleman representing an even more mysterious Arab sheikh, who agreed to arrange a sale for 1.7 million Swiss Francs in exchange for a small commission of 300,000 euros. The brothers took the deal, because they'd also apparently never heard of Nigerian princes. Of course, the 1.7 million Swiss Francs were counterfeit. Not even good counterfeits; they were just photocopies. The incredibly naive brothers didn't notice, and when they tried to deposit the cash in a bank in Switzerland, they got a lesson on the concept of copy machines and were turned away.