I wear a tie, jacket, and tight-fitting ironic t-shirt (Bomb Diggity in faded letters) to a hipster bar. Coupled with my Clark Kent glasses, this should be a nice experiment.
When I arrive, I take off my jacket to show off my arms -- triceps, biceps, forearms. I order a drink and flex my right arm -- the arm I hold my well-vodka soda with. I drape my jacket over my left forearm, forcing me to bend it at a ninety degree angle. That gives me a reason to flex this arm also. I make a round through the bar -- glasses on, tie dimpled and tucked between my pectorals -- with my arms subtly bulged. In a bar full of hipster d-bag wannabes, girls don't expect to see biceps above thirteen inches and a chest that doesn't resemble a bird's. With the jacket draped over my left forearm, I create the illusion of not trying too hard. With the glases, I create the illusion of belonging, even though I really need them to see.
"Why is he flexing his big arms and wearing a tie that shows off his pecs?"
"His jacket is off. He must have gotten hot."
"Ohhhhh... I like his glasses."
The jacket is my out. My alibi. The glasses are my trojan horse. I got a lot of looks tonight. Smiles. One girl threw a lemon wedge at me to get my attention. The trick is going somewhere you don't necessarily fit in, creating the illusion you fit in, and then drawing that contrast between reality and the illusion you created. For me, it's muscle hipster. Being able to mentally back that up is a big plus.
"So, do you girls like MGMT?"