Exploring San Francisco through the lens of city blocks, Blocker is a regular series by Charles Hodgkins. Look for it on SFist every other Wednesday, around the lunching hour.

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Blocker, No. 32: Bay St. in the Marina

(Harvard.)

In an imaginary world where San Francisco neighborhoods are represented by stars’ hairstyles, the Marina is Bryan Ferry – artfully coiffed, with a subtle smattering of muss to keep the wispy-haired skeptics on their toes. Bay St. between Broderick and Baker, on the western edge of the Marina, embodies this aesthetic as well as any residential block in the district.

Since nothing remotely unusual appears to happen here much – short of the odd cataclysmic earthquake and subsequent fire (see: October 1989) – it’s up to the block’s architecture, immaculately trimmed foliage, and occasional through-walker to provide a bit of Blocker-style backbone. Otherwise, we’re relegated to a piece about all the college alumni license plate frames and window decals slapped on cars parked along this street. Not such an enticing slant.

(UC Davis.)

At the east end of the block, an apartment building is splashed with a sharp, two-tone paint job - light auburn on the ground floor, terra cotta above. Its feature attraction, however, is a round porthole set at eye level, with black brass tentacles curving out symmetrically from the circle’s hub. Set directly to the right of a pair of closely cropped potted vines, it’s a nice touch that refocuses attention on the 15-unit corner edifice, rather than the small pile of unclaimed newspapers and advertising circulars scattered around its outdoor entryway.

(Colorado.)

Flanking the driveway at 2354-56 are two remarkably thick and bulbous juniper bushes, the kind that kids couldn’t lose a ball amongst even if they tried for a hundred years. Further down the sidewalk, down near Baker, the corner home with the thigh-high chain link fence encircling its humbly sized front lawn boasts a lemon tree bulging with winter fruit. All that’s missing are three nine-year-old girls in the driveway selling cups of lemonade for $3.50 a slug.

(Stanford.)

Reaching the west terminus of Bay St., our one-block slog is rewarded with a view of the striking Palace of Fine Arts, approaching its centennial and in the midst of restoration. Crossing the street away from the landmark columned dome, we’re drawn to 2375-77’s entryway. The structure itself is interesting enough in the way it adopts a Greek villa look, but it’s the painting at the foot of the stairway that hooks us in. Rendered lovingly on 40 square tiles, the artwork features a decked-out young woman striking a sassy pose, a timeless motif if there’s ever been one. At first, she appears to be a showgirl straight out of the roaring ‘20s, but then we note the possibly palatial buildings on her left and begin to wonder if she’s some bygone French heiress. In any event, we’re fans of the piece.

(John Carroll.)

Throughout our visit, a couple serious-faced mothers walk by individually, pushing strollers and towing dogs of varying sizes and temperaments. Other than that, we’re starting to feel as if we’re trapped in some sort of museum installation for the minimal car/foot traffic here – strange on a gorgeous Saturday morning in this part of town.

(UC Davis, again.)

The block’s final object of our attention is the three-story home at 2355. With an airy front featuring narrow terraces below its second-floor windows and tall, slightly ajar (and thus, slyly inviting) French windows on its third, we grow so curious to see its interior that we consider masquerading as a writer for Sunset promising a full-color spread, just so we can get in the door for a few minutes.

Thankfully, this silly idea passes almost as quickly as it arrives, and we’re content to admire the lovely home from across the street – an added benefit of the distance being that our “suspicious activities” (eg. scrawling notes on a pad, snapping photographs, closely examining random entryway paintings on tile) will be less easy for residents of the area to report to the local fuzz. Hair this smartly styled doesn’t come without posted Neighborhood Crime Watch signs.

(Photos by the author.)