eliot's foresight about twenty-something hipsters and conformity

The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint smells of beer
From the saw-dust trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee stands.

With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.

-T.S. Eliot, excerpt from "Preludes"