In a move that has me wanting to wear polo shirts just to start fucking with people, the 24th and Mission McDonald's and irl World Star video unveiled an authy-chic facade that already looks horribly dated. As Fred Sharples observed:
Even the Mission McDonald's is getting that hip slatted salvaged-wood look. #itsover
It's over? Perhaps. But I'm sure there are plenty who fancied themselves as a Dollar Menu Dudes, but couldn't get past the garish, mural-covered classic look of the old place. I mean, ick.
Finally, a place to buy a toxic mash of calories that understands Valencia Street's sensibilities. High times.
[via Fred Sharples]
It's been a big week for new Mission-area supermarkets, first with the debut of Local Mission Market at 22nd and Harrison and now the grand opening of Whole Foods at Dolores and Market. But whereas
Local Mission Market the glorified Terminal 2 gift shop fails at providing any semblance of selection, Whole Foods has everything a preposterous person could possibly want.
Perched atop what appears to be a coffin for a very wide man is Whole Foods Presents: A Shine & Co's Steampunk Shoeshining Station. For $10, a grossly underemployed gentleman will give you the standard shoeshine beneath light fixtures made from reclaimed hats. And for the discriminating tech noblemen amongst us, there's the $25 “Gold Medal” shoeshine (the value-add of the gold package is unclear, other than that they'll probably polish your gold bricks for you).
“But what if I accidentally forgot my fedora at home?” you're probably asking yourself right now. Well lucky for you, old sport, Whole Foods' new “sundries” section has a vast selection of fedoras in every fedora style, and it is conveniently placed beside the flagship shoeshinery:
The SF Business Times touches upon some of the new Whole Foods' more desirable features:
Like the brand's other neighborhood stores before it, the store is tailored to serve the city’s Mission Dolores and Castro neighborhoods with features that include a drink bar, an oyster shucking pop-up and a shoeshine station.
“These things are obviously not food-related, but our focus is on community and giving the community different reasons to come in and congregate,” said Rob Twyman, who was hired last year to oversee the company’s expansion in the region.
Shine on, you crazy skrillionaires.
Jorts, the official thigh covering of Dolores Park, Mission dive bars, cyclists, 1970s rollerbladers, and DIY fashionistas, has finally been upgraded to a real word. Along with super dope and buzzable youth slang such as “derp,” “fauxhawk,” “selfie,” “twerk,” “street food,” and “buzzworthy,” “jorts” has finally been accepted into the Oxford Dictionaries's exclusive club of 600,000+ words. Here's how they define it:
jorts, pl. n.: denim shorts
Here's how they use it in a sentence:
turn all your jeans into jorts
(And in case you were wondering just how to turn all your jeans into jorts, some greasy gentleman gave everyone in Dolores Park a lesson in just that.)
In what I can only assume was a ploy to raise money for a Burning Man ticket, Nelson, a barber-cum-noise rocker, plopped down Electric Chaircut haircut station at the corner of 20th and Alabama Saturday afternoon for one of the most befuddled and well-groomed acts of performance art we've seen in some time.
The concept was simple: in exchange for audience tips, Nelson would tape some fucked bastard's eyes and mouth shut, properly secure him to a folding chair, then go to work on his mop with his electric razor hooked up to an amplifier. The result was loud and weird:
This blogger unfortunately did not stick around long enough to listen to the screams of horror elicited from the victim's new do, but we can only assume the absence of mirrors was deliberate.
Wanting to capitalize on the recent influx of immaculate artisans on Valencia, Jack Spade has been pushing hard to move into the neighborhood—from getting a local bookstore kicked out of their 25-year-old home through rent increases, to aggressively demanding local businesses support their efforts, to even—as Zoning administrator Scott Sanchez told the Board of Appeals last week—misleading Sanchez in making his formula retail letter of determination, which allowed Jack Spade to initially move forward with their 16th Street expansion under false pretenses.
Given the situation, the Valencia Corridor Merchants Association was successfully able to get Jack Spade's construction permit suspended early last month. But last night, the Board of Appeals fell one vote short of permanently overturning their building permit, allowing Jack Spade to resume construction.
Jack Spade co-leader Melissa Xides flew all the way in from New York to attend the meeting and praise Jack Spade as a community company and small business—distinguishing it from the billion-dollar enterprise which it is a subsidiary of. As quoted by Mission Local, she praised the neighborhood's gentrification and her business:
“We are a neighborhood retailer through and through, there is nothing formulaic about our stores,” said Xides. “We fell in love with the uniqueness of 16th Street…We fell in love with the food scene and gentrification that’s happening there.”
Somewhat contradictorily, Jack Spade's supporter's main arguments is that 16th Street is a rotten shithole that only a multinational business can fix—Bell Jar's Sasha Wingate complained about graffiti and feces outside her shop; skateboard badass-cum-fashion designer Benny Gold spoke about his concern for his young daughter's safety on the block.
But the real gem came during last week's Board of Appeals meeting, when pro-Jack Spade neighbor came up to the Board and began showing pictures of graffiti along 16th Street. At one point, she highlighted a sticker on a parking meter reading “BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS” and stated that we needed to clean up the neighborhood, and Jack Spade would make it happen. How ironic, the very person who wants to remove a “BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS” sticker sided with the retailer who removed Adobe Books Books Books.
VCMA members admit that their only course of action left is to put pressure on Jack Spade's CEO and management to back out. But Jack Spade's employment page is filling up with positions for their future 16th Street store, those prospects seem dim.
We've all seen it. How could you not? Every time the mercury climbs past 68 degrees in San Francisco, Twitter oozes contempt along the lines of “San Francisco, put your shirt back on” and “I just retched into my Blue Bottle after seeing two man nipples,” the Dolores Park bathroom line becomes particularly unsightly, and Valencia glistens with paleness.
The shirtless trend is such that just the other day I saw a bare-bellied not-drug addict walking down Capp Street. It was 10:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. I hadn't even had my coffee yet.
I had always assumed the shirtlessness was a result of the trashed economy, but it turns out it's the dernier cri way to beat the heat.
Take the situation in New York City: poisoned by Californian ideals, America's capital of class and couture is now host to barfy semi-naked sights on the subway (weird, right?). The New York Times reports on the breakdown of society:
There, on Bastille Day, was a shirtless guy checking out the windows at Bergdorf Goodman; there, on Lafayette Street one Tuesday morning, ambled a shirtless shopper hauling Urban Outfitter bags; there, on the R train, was a rider wearing nothing but jeans and sandals; there, on Astor Place, a cluster of topless men flaunting their abs and pecs.
“I was on my way to the bank and I saw not one, not two, but three guys” walking shirtless across Eighth Street, said Rob Morea, a personal trainer and an owner of Great Jones Fitness in NoHo. As might be expected of someone in his line of work, Mr. Morea’s own physique resembles that of a bendable action figure. Despite that, he would never go shirtless in New York, he said. “It doesn’t feel right. It’s like going to a business meeting in your underwear.”It is all a predictable part of the dressing-down of America, said Patricia Mears, deputy director of the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology.
“It’s great we live in a democratic society, but we’ve lost all sense of decorum and occasion,” Ms. Mears said. “To be on Fifth Avenue is now about the same as being on the Coney Island boardwalk.”
Normally this would be the part where I laugh at the person bemoaning the loss of “decorum and occasion” and point out the unprecedented opportunity for mocking guys with angel wing tattoos. But despite my liberalism and YOLO or whatever, I cannot help but agree: San Francisco, put your shirt back on.
Who needs car insurance when you have a few hundred phone cases tastefully incorporated onto your vehicle?