The Thrift Shop Recession

The following post is a contribution from my dear friend, Brion Spensieri. Thank you, Brion for enlightening me (and everyone who reads this) on the cause of our current economic downfall.

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I’d like to take a minute or two to delve into a serious issue which affects all of us young people residing in large cities. You’ve seen them at the parks and the bars, in the streets and the coffee shops, perusing through garage sales and record stores—and you may have noticed that their numbers are surging at an alarming rate. That’s right: I’m talking about Hipsters.

The Hipster is a fascinating and perplexing creature. From their socioeconomic origins, to their Bohemian-Punk hybrid mantras, there is a lot of material to pore through. Let us begin by exploring common traits among the species. The following is a list of obvious identifying markings:

· A fixed-gear bicycle: Usually minimalist in design and solid in color, with bonus points for a brakeless setup, a hipster’s bike is his most prized and expensive possession. Their aluminum stallions are usually purchased from a resale shop and maintained through a series of Sunday Part-Swap bartering expos in the park. You can be sure that you’ve entered a Hipster Nest if the ratio of bikes to residents is greater than 1.35.
· Facepaint: Unless you’re at a circus, a rave, a Halloween celebration, or a foreign religious ceremony, there are very few reasons for the average person to wear facepaint. This does not hold true for The Hipster. Among this community, any weekend is fair game to paint on some day-glo tribal markings, affix a few long and colorful feathers to their headband (most wear headbands), and get wasted during the daytime. This is directly caused, of course, by the fact that Hipsters are for the most part…
· Leeches on Society: The Hipster is capable of working for a living. For the most part, Hipsters come from upper-middle class families and grew up in the suburbs of the cities in which they now reside. Hipsters usually at least begin their college education, and between 20-25% of them typically complete it in five years or less. This does not, of course, affect their aggregate decision to work (if they work at all) almost exclusively as bartenders, waiters, baristas, bookstore cashiers, and Democratic Canvassers. The Hipster has no use for a career, as it is concerned only with what is happening right here and now. Rather than being a shameful characteristic, this near-complete lack of disposable income is a badge of pride for The Hipster. During the downright exciting era of Demonization of Capitalism happening within our country, The Hipster thrives. They move like locusts, from neighborhood to neighborhood, consuming all natural resources before inevitably resorting to the safety net society has set up to protect the truly destitute—welfare. This goes a long way towards explaining The Hipster’s de facto escape mechanisms, which are…
· PBR, Hand-rolled Cigarettes and Cheap Whiskey: For The Hipster, life is largely a celebration of poverty/frugality. I suppose it’s obvious, then, that when The Hipster wishes to imbibe, It turns to the lowest common alcoholic denominator. Cans of PBR and bottle swigs of Early Times are to Hipsters what human flesh is like to Zombies—utterly irresistible. Temperature, degree of skunkitude, and lack of chasers are complete non-issues to the Hipster on a mission to get fucked up at 2 pm on a Tuesday.
· Bedbugs: Hipsters rarely bathe or groom themselves, and acquire many of their worldly possessions off the street or from the moldering basements of thrift stores. For this reason, most Hipsters appear unkempt or disheveled, and are highly likely to welcome bedbugs into their Nests. Much like with vampires or werewolves, when one willingly enters the domain of The Hipster and sleeps with one of their kind, he or she will never be the same. The bedbug bites are only the beginning—the worst is yet to come.
· Waifish, birdlike bone structure: Often accentuated by a threadbare, neon green tank top, the Male Hipster’s body type is astonishingly similar to that of Kate Moss circa 2003. Exposed midriffs, complete lack of muscle definition, and the strong proclivity to fracture a collarbone during a routine sneeze are hallmarks of the almost-androgynous Male Hipster. This departure from masculinity is wholly embraced by the Female Hipster, which only solidifies the process.
· Fedoras (if not European)
· Overalls (if not Farmer)
· Skinny jeans cut off at the knees (if male)
· Large, colorful sunglasses (if not Australian)

So, what is the point of being able to classify and identify the Hipster Species? Well, I’m not entirely sure yet. My research hasn’t taken me to the point where I’ve discovered their weaknesses (besides obvious physical weakness). But I do know this: the Hipster ranks are growing rapidly. As layoffs increase, the job market continues to stagnate, and we continue down this road towards a magical place where everybody is entitled to their Fair Share, regardless of contribution to society or the economy, the Hipster thrives. For more information on the sheer ridiculousness of Hipster appearances, please see Look at This Fucking Hipster.com.

Now don’t get me wrong — The Hipster is usually mild-mannered and easy to get along with. Few are aggressive, even when provoked, and this passive demeanor allows them to spread throughout our cities without too many eyebrows being raised. But mark my words — The Age of the Hipster is a dark one indeed. Productivity will decrease. The 80’s are getting even more popular. A new Lost Generation is forming... disenfranchised young people clinging to any semblance of childhood they can. These foreign-film-loving, music-discussing, dispassionately opinionated individuals are coming to a city near you—dive bars beware. Chicago, New York City, San Francisco, Portland, DC and LA have already been infested, but there may still be time for your city to barricade itself. Remember to watch for telltale signs of anybody you love experimenting with Hipster behaviors, and NEVER attack a group of Hipsters in their natural habitat—they have great strength in numbers, especially when employing the Whining Tactic.

Finally, with Halloween coming up, I share with you this article and urge you to stand up against the slippery slope that is facepaint.

Whatever you do, though, don’t tell The Hipsters.

Saturday in Suburbia

I was fortunate enough to take a day trip to the suburbs of The Peninsula this past weekend. Not only was it nice to get out of the city for the day, but driving down the unlit, two-lane Alpine Road lined with yellow and orange trees evoked a feeling of autumn in New York, which is one of three things I miss about living there; the other two being pizza and bagels.

Growing up in a small town like Rye, NY I am very familiar with the suburbs. However I never expected to encounter a town that reminded me so much of Rye right in the backyard of my beloved San Francisco. The local watering hole, the soccer field, the gourmet grocery store, the country club, the city center, the farm stand... all these things are characteristic to the suburban lifestyle and are ever so present in Portola Valley (aka PV), my weekend destination. The bike lane is filled with business men on their weekend rides, or families in a tandem cycle heading to their afternoon soccer match. Parents and their little ones fill the pumpkin patch with wagons collecting their Halloween gourds, with one mother yelling to her son "Remember, the rule is you have to be able to carry it, not roll it!"

And as you drive up Skyline Blvd, outside the PV borders, you'll find men on motorcycles stopping for a beer at Alice's Restaurant before heading up the curvy road to Windy Hill, the most beautiful summit in The Peninsula. From Windy Hill you can see the valley of suburban towns below you, the industrial East Bay beyond you, the Pacific Ocean behind you (if you can see past the fog - unlikely) and if you squint your eyes you can even see Angel Island and Golden Gate Bridge in the far distance. A prime spot for any photographer, hiker, or picnickers.

Beyond small towns like PV, Atherton and Ladera (which apparently isn't even a real town it's so small) is the more well-known Palo Alto, home of the top-notch Stanford University. It was game day at Stanford so the traffic was pretty high, but driving through the campus a bit gives you a glimpse at the palm tree-lined medical buildings and student dorms. If crowded stadiums aren't your forte, head to the Dutch Goose in Menlo Park for some local brew and deviled eggs - their specialty! Here we found young adults adorned in college sweatshirts rooting for their Alma mater, as well as a diverse family or two getting their Saturday night burger fix. The tables in the booths are etched with initials and even some scandalous messages to fellow diners. Definitely the perfect place to cap off a day in the 'burbs - to remind you that it's not all country clubs and pumpkin patches.

I guess I'll always have a little place in my heart for suburban simplicity.

How 'bout them Yanks?

It's October, and to all you baseball fans that means one thing: postseason. I've always loved baseball, from the time I was playing wiffle ball with my brother in the back yard, to my senior year when I scored the only run of the season on my high school softball team. I'm usually a local fan; I rooted for the Cardinals when I was living in STL, and I rooted for the Giants most of this season. I even root for the Padres every now and then since they don't have any fans. But when the Yankees dominate over postseason, it's time to bring out my NY hat (and accent).

It's hard being a Yankee fan because 90% of the baseball fan population hates your team. I don't blame them, they're just jealous. Some may say we "buy our team" and I say: so fucking what. Obviously every baseball player has dreamed of being a Yankee since they were a tot watching Babe Ruth round the bases at Yankee stadium. Even Johnny Damon, a former Red Sox player who said he would never in his life play for the Yankees, is low and behold a Yankee himself and one of the top hitters! So what if we have the highest paid players in baseball history - they deserve it! They take so much crap from all those haters, then they go out there and beat the balls off their opponents. They also have the hottest girlfriends so they need money to keep them looking good.

The greatest thing about being a Yankee fan is the pride. Every New Yorker glows with pride when the Yankees are doing well. Fans unite to revel in Yankee success, and even people who claim to hate NY and say they will never move back there (ahem, me) seem to forget about all that and temporarily take pleasure in gloating with New York pride.

A-Rod. Jeter. Matsui. Posada. These are some of the most recognized names in baseball today, and probably will be for years and years after they retire (which will hopefully be never). If you've been watching this postseason, and you're a Yankee fan, then you're probably as frantically excited as me. We haven't won a series since 2000 (let it be known that we also won in 1996, 1998, and 1999 - as well as 22 other world series wins beginning in 1923), and it's about time. After winning three years in a row, we sort of tapered off for a while. We bowed our heads and gave some other teams a chance: the Red Sox, the White Sox, the Cardinals, the Phillies... the others aren't worth mentioning. In 1996 I won a Halloween window painting contest for painting a pumpkin with a Yankee hat on and a headline that read "Happy Yankeeween!" First place. That's right.

EAPA

Shortly before I moved to my beloved Divisadero neighborhood, a trendy name took on the area that has since been picked up on by all outsiders of the neighborhood (and some snobby insiders as well). That name is "NOPA". It stands for North of the Panhandle, a la New York's SOHO (South of Houston). They even named a restaurant after NOPA, on Divsadero and Hayes - which BTW is in no way considered North of the Panhandle by any directional means.

To those of you who don't live in San Francisco, the Panhandle is the narrow patch of green that leads to Golden Gate park. It's a popular spot to bike through, throw a Frisbee, play bocce ball or just lay out in the sun. It's also the crash point for the infamous Bay to Breakers event. It runs between Oak and Fell, from Baker to Stanyan. Therefore, anyone who lives East of Baker does not in fact live in "NOPA."

I live East of Baker on Mcallister and Divisadero. Technically the Western Addition borders on Golden Gate Ave, which is one block from Mcallister. You could say I live in Alamo Square, the closest corner to my house being two blocks away on Scott and Fulton, but since I can't actually see the park with the famous painted ladies from my house than I'm not sure it's fair to claim I live there. I certainly don't live close enough to Haight street to be considered in the Lower Haight neighborhood, and likewise to Pacific Heights or Lower Fillmore. So I am in no man's land, or what I like to refer to as EAPA.

This whole "NOPA" name came along when the neighborhood started to become more gentrified (which is not what I am complaining about). Faletti's gourmet grocery store entered the neighborhood, along with a few other $$$ restaurants including Poleng, Tsunami, Candy Bar, and most recently Bar Crudo. I can see why pricey restaurants would be attracted to the neighborhood. One, because there isn't a lot of competition. Two, the rent is less expensive than most neighborhoods in the city. Three, the neighborhood is becoming a popular hot spot for young professionals like myself. NOPA (the restaurant) is one of the only places in the city where you can go for a fancy dinner at 1am. It's filled with industry folk getting off from their own restaurant jobs. The food is great, and the drinks even better - if you don't mind throwing down $60+ a head. But it also attracts the Marina posh heads who stare out the wall size windows giving neighborhood passer-byers dirty looks for wearing sweat pants to the local video store. "I guess I didn't get the memo." (Thanks Miley)

Thanks to the restaurant, Yelp and 7x7 Magazine the term "NOPA" has stuck, and there's no telling how long it plans to stay. So I say, we take action now. I call on all of you Divisadero dwellers, Alamo Square inhabitants and Lower Haight hipsters: Revolt Against this shi shi word that our eclectic neighborhood has come to! And I urge you to come up with something new. My friend, Morgan suggested renaming the neighborhood "The Wig Out" since it's the end point of the famed bicycle wiggle. I like that term a lot, but for now I'm sticking with EAPA.

Yummies: Volume 4

To those of you who are fortunate enough to live in the Divisadero neighborhood, you know who I am talking about when I refer to "The Ravioli Lady."

For the past year or so a small, inexpensive farmers market has formed on Grove and Divisadero every Sunday from 10am to 2pm. This works perfectly for me because between Wednesdays at the Civic Center and Sundays around the block from me, I can get all the produce I need for the week. However, there is one stand at the Divisadero Farmer's Market that the Civic Center doesn't have: fresh Italian ravioli, delicious gourmet dips and sauces, and an array stuffed olives - they'll even let you sample all of it before you buy! Three items for only $15!

This past Sunday I was the first to arrive at the ravioli stand, so they gave me a special deal where I got two sauces and 3 boxes of ravioli for $20. I chose their deluxe ravioli (with beef), their classic ricotta, and their spinach pesto ricotta. I was told that the classic ricotta was a nice choice because I could make a more heavy sauce for it. I've recently started making my own pasta sauces, so I found this particular ravioli to be an excellent choice for experimentation.

This is what I came up with:
-Grab whatever ripe vegetables you have laying around from last week's farmers market. Some suggestions include mushrooms, zucchini, peppers, onion, squash, eggplant... anything that you might normally see in a hearty tomato sauce.
-Saute some garlic and onions with olive oil in a big frying pan for about 2 minutes. You don't want the garlic to burn, but if it does it's not a big deal.
-Add peppers first, then after three minutes add other vegetables and stir for 2 more minutes
-Add about half a cup of red table wine (anything you have lying around that is under $10)
-Let it simmer for a few minutes, then add two or three tablespoons of a red pesto sauce. I use the one from the ravioli stand that is red pepper pesto; it has a nice consistency and some really good spicy flavors. Continue to let it simmer for a minute or two.
-Lastly, add about 2/3 cup of tomato sauce - nothing fancy, the kind that comes out of the can.
-Stir under low heat for about a minute, then pour over drained pasta (goes best with ravioli but can also be used with any thicker pasta such as rigatoni, fusilli, linguine, parpadalle).
-Eat hot with a little Parmesan cheese and enjoy!

Green, Red, Blue and Beer.

This past weekend is known to Bay Area dwellers as one of the most eventful weekends of the Indian Summer, and perhaps the year. Between Oktoberfest, the West Coast Green conference, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival and Lovevolution, there is certainly something for everyone.

These are the days when it starts to get cold. You wake up freezing and clinging to your covers because your apartment doesn't get proper insulation, and in fact it's probably colder inside than it is outside. But the sun is shining and there are plenty of outdoor activities calling your name...

Feeling like you want to learn a little more about sustainability and what we can do to protect our planet? Ride your bike down to Fort Mason Center and walk the convention floor of the annual West Coast Green conference. The conference kicks off on Thursday and closes with an after party on Saturday night. This year I didn't make it to the conference, but I managed to score a ticket to the after party at the Cal Academy of Sciences. My friend and I took in the warm air of the rain forest after our cold walk to the museum, then watched a really fascinating planetarium film on the size of our earth compared to the vast universe around us. And we managed to get a couple cocktails in there too!

If green isn't your thing, maybe you should check out SF's Oktoberfest at Pier 49. Modeled after the notorious German festival, Oktoberfest lets you sample brews and schnitzers from all over Germany, without leaving the country (or the city for that matter)! If you like drinking beer and hooking up with drunk Bridge and Tunnel people, look no further than Oktoberfest. Don't forget your beer goggles!

This weekend SF borrows from another popular German event, Berlin's Love Parade, to create our very own Lovevolution. Every year San Francisco's music gurus parade down Market Street on floats blasting various forms of dance music. Half naked men and women adorn these floats, dressed in tutus, bikinis, and some of the most extravagant outfits you will see outside of Bay to Breakers. Almost everyone is on some kind of illegal drug, including but not limited to ecstasy, Molly, acid, mushrooms, special K, Oxycontin, and pretty much anything you can get your hands on to make you feel the love, ecstasy being the most popular. And if underage girls are your thing, then you'll find plenty of them here. You might want to ask for id before you find yourself sticking your tongue down some fourteen-year-olds throat - or some other appendage, for that matter. But in all seriousness, it's a pretty fantastic event if you find yourself in the right mood to partake in it. And it takes place in our very own Civic Center, where gay couples were once able to get married!

The most favored event of this weekend, catering to all types of San Franciscan's, would have to be the annual three day Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. Maybe it's the twang of banjo echoing off the eucalyptus trees, or the array of hippies and hobos selling cans of C-level beer along the outskirts of the park, or perhaps it's the fact that the entire event is free thanks to the monetary support of founder F. Warren Hellman, chairman and co-founder of Hellman & Friedman LLC (and avid bluegrass listener). Whatever it is that draws you to this unique music festival, you'll find yourself immersed in every aspect of San Francisco culture: dread head hippie dance circles kicking up dirt, Red Sox capped Marina frat boys wheeling coolers of Budweiser, families picnicking with their earplug-wearing toddlers, and even some stragglers from the Lovevolution crowd who are trying to nurse their drug hangovers while laying in the sun (a true recipe for dehydration)- some of whom have forgotten to change out of their barely-there outfits, but nobody notices or cares because they're just in it for the music! And it's not just bluegrass (as you'll notice in the clever title of the event), but funk, country, jazz and rock-n-roll too!

And if none of these events spark your interest (which I find hard to believe), there's always Taste of Fillmore, Castro Street Fair, Jack London Square Cupcake festival, and about a million other things going on in this eclectic and exciting City by the Bay.

*Next year I'll try to get this out before the weekend is over already....