Hippies.

Christopher Hitchens, who makes a point of saying he's never smoked marijuana, writes about hippiedom (in the NYT Book Review).

Every now and then, one would hear people talk in mysterious tones about log cabins or geodesic domes on virgin land in Vermont or Montana, and the growing of organic vegetables. John Denver's song ''Country Roads'' made West Virginia a favored destination. Then there would be a brisk exit from the blighted city, with a car towing an assortment of furniture, tools, pets and sometimes children. The pull of nature and authenticity, so imbricated in the original material of the American Dream, had overcome the easy temptations of materialism....



There was always a slight embarrassment to be experienced when these would-be Amish came sidling back to town, to resume work in brokerages and banks and universities. To this day, that especially vile reminder of the epoch -- the graying and greasy ponytail trailing off the balding pate -- is their living memorial.

Far more young people of the era entertained romantic thoughts about doing this back-to-nature thing than actually did it, of course. It was always completely easy to predict how unpleasant the reality of such a life would turn out to be. Nevertheless, it was a putdown of the time to call someone a "phony hippie." You felt you really should drop out and live on a commune. How absurd it seems now to have felt guilty about such a failing!