- short sleeve button down, usually with a tie. Sorta like they forgot they had to go somewhere fancy and pulled anything off the floor and thought adding a tie would bring it all together make them look alright. Never know they actually look like filthy, mismatched clothes and a wrinkled tie instead.
- The dipshit with the backwards Abercrombie visor. Usually wearing some kind of sports cap and sneakers, even when it's stupidly cold, like it's some badge of masculine identity. (Frostbite is so hardcore.) Always the last to suit up for winter. Like a middle school paperboy, but instead of papers for you, you end up wanting to throw rocks at him -- Probably only in your mind, but everyone's hoping you finally do it for real.
- bulky, clearance-rack polo buttoned all the way up so their adam's apple bounces on Kmart fabric whenever they speak. Pleated dress pants that boner-up in the crotch when they sit down. (Impossible, as all males are asexual, genderless humanoids at birth.) Gel and hairspray. Chalky deodorant. Oh. and way too much Old Spice - it's not possible for an ISTJ to wear anything but Old Spice. Because smelling like $7.95 means class.
- Usually have chapped lips for some reason. And receding gums from obsessive brushing. So, expect ointments in every goddamn pocket imaginable.
- Always leave a patchouli and incense vapor trail, because they value aromatics. And want to cover the woodsy musk of dank pot buried deep into the fibers of every piece of clothing they own or gift you. Honest to Christ, this is for real here. Not worth risking celebrating birthdays with them for this reason, as wherever you go, you will stink of hippy.
- Wool everything. Like, every possible thing. All of it smells like pet ferret pee. Or gerbil shit. They always chose some variation of rodent as a pet, and then forget to change its bedding. On the upside, if you're into that sorta thing, you have a pot hookup wherever you find one - but only if you can talk to them long enough to get before you're overwhelmed by the rank odour of old B.O., stale goat milk and cigarette breath.
- Always hipsters. Always. Always. Always. Actually, they're probably the type most responsible for hipster culture and their pedantic pseudo-irony approach to fashion, IE mixing and matching old fashion trends while peacocking like they're above it all. Punch them on sight. Every INTJ is a complete monster.
- Hipster version - expensive, thread-worn clothing with pubescent-level mustache and Yo La Tengo concert shirt they got from their older cousin, back when he was cool and not a middle-America sell-out. Probably wearing a fedora, thinking they're the first to rediscover the fashion every alcoholic detective in the 40's wore. Instagram account to artificially age their (looking away, frowny selfie) for their OkCupid account where they talk about how wine and atheism make them euphoric.
Thank balls most will never reproduce due to their withered appearance and bottom-of-the-toilet personality.
Is Dick-ey a word? Because yeah - if it is, they are always dickey. Especially in fashion.
- Like the INTJ, but horrible enough to actually like being hipster. Neckbeards and video game boxers where the dickhole is so overused you see the entire meat pile whenever they wear shorts.
-Wear Pokemon shirts to a job interview. Oh and they all LARP, so expect a broadsword or some stupid Star Wars lightsaber Wood Shop/Tech Ed high school project hanging tragic and unused (like their sexuality)above a filthy kitchen sink for some reason, in their 1-bedroom efficiency apartment. Lots of medieval weapons, actually, in their apartment and always paid for with student loan money from the college they dropped out of.
- Only talent is their crippling credit card debt
Vicious, subhuman mutants. Touching any part of their clothes, ever -- even incidentally, guarantees you get a potentially fatal dose of their freakish superbacteria. Weeks of scrubbing and crying for death won't be anything if you accidentally become them as a result of their infection. This is the only way they can reproduce. By overwhelming you with grime.
Don't ever get close. Not even on Omegle.
The type least likely to have relatives remember their funeral.
My dad is an INTJ, and he's definitely not a hipster. He's more suit and tie, with mostly a white dress shirt.