by admin on March 20, 2011

balboa cafe

room with a view

after dining in the mission district the previous eve., esme and mr. noir decided to seek a place for breakfast near their reasonable but surprisingly pleasant hotel on lombard st.  they had walked a few blocks in a chilly rain when what did they spot but the baboa cafe!

omg, kate and i used to hang out there occasionally when we were single, as did mr. noir.  in we went, esme in her black boyfriend jeans, short boots and long down coat, and mr. noir in khaki’s and plaid shirt, per usual.

i can’t say we stuck out like sore thumbs, but neither did we quite look like the natives.  for one thing, we were about 30 years older than most.  for another, as in the mission district the night before, all the women were wearing slim jeans and knee-hi boots.  in cow hollow, jeggings predominated over skinny jeans, and due to the rain some boots were the colorful rubber kind rather than leather.

i can’t say that one single harem pant or even hi-waisted pleated pant was in evidence.  blouses to just below the bum were common, and  the most popular accessory appeared to be a baby.

there were a few older people amongst the young, and these seemed to be greeted by patrons and servers alike—clearly it was their neighborhood.  we waxed nostalgic and a little envious at the whole idea of having one’s neighborhood cafe, and even entertained fantasies of hunting for real estate in s.f.  however, upon returning to carmel, we heaved a sigh of relief, were jumped upon ecstatically by our fox-terrier, and promptly lay down for a nap!

too old for the big city?



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