Mayor Breed’s newest revitalization scheme involves bringing an entertainment district á la New Orleans’ Bourbon Street to the Financial District. Another gambit to jumpstart downtown San Francisco, at least this idea doesn’t yearn for the dead-and-gone. Even Breed knows office culture is never coming back. Her plan shifts focus from

As is paramount, let’s start by saying your writer here is not a substance abuse counselor nor a medical professional. This is just my experience and my opinion about something I’ve found critical in my own life over the last decade: Finding a life outside of alcohol and most drugs.

I’ve got some awesome news! We received a grant from the Civic Joy Fund to put out a literary magazine celebrating SF and acting to counter the stupid “Doom Loop” narrative. It’s a gift to the people of San Francisco. And after months of working on this project it’s now available

By Curt Hopkins It took us until our second tenure in San Francisco to figure out how to eat in the city. Here you flee from fancy food like from a rural outhouse. Fancy food in San Francisco is overhyped, overpriced, and overcooked. Like Jonathan Gold advised Angelenos, it’s best

by Charles Irwell I see you there. You’re twirling your Hercule Poirot ‘stache, adjusting your pince-nez specs and drinking espresso from a cup so small you hold it with tweezers. Sitting there, in your Fort Greene café, keeping an eye on the Penny-Farthing you rode here on. Watching the world go

by Charles Irwell  As a people, we Britons are stereotyped according to our drinking habits. This usually falls into the twee joshing about tea, as Americans love to remind us with teeth-grinding regularity. However, it is no exaggeration to say that the British love of alcohol is fabric-of-the-nation stuff. But,

Dive into a waterfall of fresh-squeezed flavors at the bottomless bar, where we’re pouring 8 juicy, fruit-infused craft brews and 8 seasonal house-made sangrias, served in a commemorative glass. Pucker up for 16 ways to sip sweet peach, pineapple, and strawberry, tart grapefruit, kiwi, and blood-orange, refreshing watermelon, honeydew, and

Christmas is fast approaching and, thank god, because at this point images of Mariah Carey singing “Santa Baby” literally project onto the inside of my eyelids when I close them. As tough as hearing the same stale songs over and over is, it’s even tougher spending the holidays alone. Luckily,

 By Craigory Sparks That day came Wednesday. The day I always knew would come. The day when I would arrive at that giant glass door to the office high rise in the Financial District of San Francisco. That office high rise full of J. Crew bros and SoulCycle girls mucking