Oh, foreign magazines. They really never cease to elicit a chuckle except for French Vogue, of course, which is very, very serious. Behold this new piece in Vogue India in which a blogger describes the various neighborhoods in San Francisco, through a young Indian transplant's eyes.
After putting in some time here, she has of course discovered Bi-Rite Creamery, Dolores Park, and Ritual, and she has figured out where everyone disappears to in the last week of August. But she's still a little wide-eyed about our tech- and food-happy paradise, and she has not gotten the memo about the overuse of the term 'hipster.'
Pass by the glassy-eyed city professionals lining up for yet another cup of interminably extracted Chilean drip coffee from Ritual Roasters, and watch as they diligently Facebook-update their whereabouts as they head on to the Jazz Center on Franklin Street. In the city of a million mobile apps, you get your rides via Uber and your news on your iPad; and nobody will dispute the crowdsourced authority of a rating from Yelp.
Swedish House Mafia will fly in for a night to DJ a party in a killer renovated theater hall in the gritty Tenderloin neighbourhood for a room full of tech geeks in their twenties, and glossy, well-dressed girls they met via OkCupid will slink around them.
If Jack Dorsey walks into a bar in North Beach, heads turn and tweets go out. But a sighting of Anne Hathaway at Flour + Water is just passé, you’re more busy recommending the 2006 Brunello to fellow superusers on Foursquare.
People don’t go to work here; they follow their passions in offices parading as super-slick warehouse lofts stocked with art, colour, music, inspiration. And out of these emerge the apps that we play with, the devices we carry around in our pockets, and use to interact with and capture pieces of our incredibly distinct worlds in panoramic, microscopic, open, broken, tinted sepia, fluorescent, rose-hued Instagram effects.