Every Single Hipster Can Rightfully Claim They Were Hipster “Before It Was Cool”

At Sherman Pole Buildings, we’ve been hammering posts and swinging trusses since 1976, building barns for farmers, gearheads, and the occasional wannabe folk star who thinks a banjo makes him Bob Dylan. Lately, though, we’ve got a new crowd sniffing around: hipsters. You know the type—plaid shirts, artisanal coffee, and a weird obsession with claiming they were into stuff “before it was cool.” Spoiler: hipsters and pole barns were never cool, and we’re cackling at the irony.

Picture this: a hipster named Kyle—rocking a man-bun tighter than a jar of artisanal pickles—wanders onto a Sherman pole barn site while hunting for a spot to host his “underground artisanal beard oil swap.” He’s got skinny jeans that look like they’re cutting off his circulation and a sudden revelation: “This barn is so uncool, it’s genius.” Kyle thinks he’s struck hipster gold, but here’s the punchline: pole barns have been gloriously uncool since the days of bell-bottoms. We’ve been building them for over 40 years for real work—not for Kyle’s beard oil empire.

Kyle spreads the word faster than you can say “kombucha on tap,” and our inbox is flooded with hipsters wanting barns for their “vintage typewriter repair shop” or “ethical taxidermy gallery.” One guy wanted a barn for his “pop-up interpretive dance studio”—complete with a disco ball he swore was “ironic.” We’re not sure what’s more ironic: the disco ball or the fact that he tripped over his own scarf during the grand opening. Sherman pole barns are built for practical folks—farmers, mechanics, or that guy who needs a spot for his tractor, not a dance-off. But we’ll build ‘em anyway, because our barns can handle anything, even hipster shenanigans.

Every hipster swears they were into pole barns “before they were cool.” Here’s the thing—they never were, and we’ve got the receipts. We’ve been raising barns since before Kyle’s dad knew what skinny jeans were, and they’ve always been about function, not fashion. Hipsters love the raw vibe—metal siding, wood poles, and zero pretense. One client wanted a barn for his “ironic penny-farthing bike collection,” claiming it was “so 1800s.” We told him our barns are for real work—like storing hay or fixing trucks—but he just adjusted his suspenders and whispered, “That’s the aesthetic.” Sure, Kyle, whatever keeps your mustache curled.

Hipsters don’t just want barns—they want to throw parties that make a frat house look tame. We built a pole barn for a gal who turned it into a “vegan charcuterie pop-up event space.” She had fairy lights, mason jars, and a playlist of bands so obscure they don’t even exist yet. The party imploded when her DIY pallet table collapsed under a mountain of overpriced quinoa, and someone’s artisanal ferret escaped into the rafters. A Sherman pole barn can handle the chaos—big sliding doors, open space, and a structure that doesn’t flinch when the kombucha shots start flowing. Party on, hipsters, but maybe ditch the ferret.

Hipsters have stuff—vintage typewriters that don’t type, ironic taxidermy that creeps everyone out, and crates of vinyl they’ll never play because “the vibe isn’t right.” Their tiny lofts can’t handle the clutter, so they come to us. We built a barn for a guy who needed space for his “upcycled denim art installation”—think jeans hot-glued to a canvas, but make it “deep.” He loved the barn’s metal siding and wood poles, calling it “so authentic.” We call it practical: wall-mounted racks, concrete floor, and room for your tractor and your hipster hoard. It’s storage that works, even if your art doesn’t.

Some hipsters think they can DIY a pole barn after binging a YouTube tutorial between sips of oat milk latte. Spoiler: they can’t. We got a call from a guy who tried building his own “off-grid poetry retreat” barn. His roof caved in under a light breeze, and his “reclaimed” wood was just pallet scraps that turned his hands into a splintery mess. He ended up writing a haiku about his failure while crying into his scarf. Sherman pole barns are built to last, with over 40 years of know-how. Quality steel siding, sturdy wood poles—leave the building to us, and you can focus on your poetry.

Hipsters love naming things—Kyle called his barn “The Flannel Sanctuary.” Another client dubbed hers “The Quinoa Quarters,” because apparently, that’s a thing. We don’t care what you call your Sherman pole barn, as long as it works. Our barns are built for function—big doors, open spaces, and durability for whatever you’re storing, even if it’s just your hipster ego. One guy named his barn “The Bearded Haven” and then tried to charge for tours. We’ll stick to calling it a barn—simple, sturdy, and ready to outlast Kyle’s latest trend.

We built a barn for a hipster who wanted a “rustic Instagram backdrop,” right next to a real farmer’s land. The farmer nearly choked on his coffee laughing—Kyle was out there taking selfies in a flannel onesie while the farmer was hauling hay in overalls. The farmer yelled, “You know that barn’s for work, right?” Kyle just winked and said, “It’s for the ‘gram.” Our pole barns work for both: tough for farm life, ironic enough for Kyle’s photo shoot. It’s a win-win, minus the awkward stares over the fence.

Pole barns will never be “cool,” and that’s why we’re obsessed with ‘em. They’re affordable, tough, and endlessly customizable—whether you’re a farmer, a gearhead, or a hipster with a dream that’s three artisanal pickles short of a full jar. Kyle and his crew can claim they were into barns “before it was cool,” but we’ve been here since ‘76, building spaces for real life, not trends. Need a barn for your farm or just your hipster hobby? Call Sherman Pole Buildings—we’ll build you a barn that’s ironically perfect.