Like starlings on a trash-strewn field the hipsters alight together, peck intently for a time, and at some indiscernible signal take wing again at once. If they are the American avant-garde it is true, I think, in only this aspect — the unending churn of their tastes, this adult faddishness in the adolescent style.
From My Crowd, Harpers, March 2006, by Bill Wasik (the inventor of the Flash Mob)