Is how I felt as of yesterday at 12pm. I’ve had my birthday weekend plans lined up for a few months now, my first trip to San Francisco. It’s a bit ridiculous that I’ve never been given the proximity to Seattle and all the bands I’ve listened to from the Bay Area since I was younger. Here’s to perfect timing! The business portion of my trip was to scope out some upscale menswear shops that could handle all the ideas rolling around in my brain and sell to the type of man I want to design for. “Market research” led to some pretty fun interactions and an ear out for the definitive San Franciscan accent. Mesmerization shall commence.
My best friend Amanda flew down from Seattle to join in on the adventure, which consisted mainly of shopping, a couple tourist sights, and eating all the vegan food that SF has to offer (or attempting to). We started with Gracias Madre in the Mission while still strapped down with luggage. We then Uber’d with a hilarious Englishman who didn’t want us to leave the car. We realized that much to our own detriment, people just don’t want to let go. That’s what Amanda and I do together, we make people love us.
Our next significant vegan stop was my birthday dinner at Millennium in Oakland. What I did not anticipate was a certain gentleman sitting across from us that we’ve loved since the 90’s. I cannot sufficiently describe the goings-on inside my mind, so I needn’t try. I will add that it has never been harder to read a menu in my life. Seeing as how I’ve had my nose in hundreds of cookbooks since being vegan (15+ years now), you’d think I’d remember what a fig is.
The next morning we headed to Timeless Coffee which had an incredible brunch, gluten-free be damned. Amanda left early which left me to my devices and local friends to check out the Off the Grid food trucks, the Golden Gate Bridge (what was visible anyway), and walking down Haight St. It was there that Seattle’s Capital Hill circa 1995 was discovered. Not really my thing in terms of bong shops, but was a nice flash from the past to my teenage Seattle-wandering years.
My final night consisted of dining at another great vegan establishment in which I had an incredible experience, albeit alone. The aforementioned gentlemen, as if on cue, graced me with his presence yet again. Luckily, I had already ordered so the bumbling menu moments were of the past. I made a fairly bold, introverted move so as not to disturb his party and give due credit to the server who set my plan into motion.
My main impression of San Francisco was that not only did I leave my heart behind on it’s foggy hills, but that every possible temptation (for a substance-free vegan, of course) was thrown at me to stay. Returning to Brooklyn had not quite the same appeal it once did. My mother will be thrilled.
Looming Jane 