Judging by what little is left around the edges, this was a goody. It’s been a while since I saw a new Ribity in the flesh; sorry I missed this one.
Reader tackyy noticed this telling notice in the window at Puerto Allegre this evening. Seems they’re expanding, and what with the Bombay Creamery space now vacant right next door, common sense says that’s a-where they’re going. Dang, what a mashup. If only. If only we could get fig ice cream cones with baskets of chips and pitchers of margs.
The Denim Maven, one of our favorite tipsters, tells us NYC-based Freeman’s Sporting Club is about to open up its third shop, at 18th and Valencia in the space recently vacated by Amore Animal Supply. From the Freeman’s “about” page:
F.S.C. was established to pay tribute to the vanishing art of American handmade goods, the quality and durability inherent to something made by skilled artisans. These tenets form the foundation on which Freemans Sporting Club is built.
Based on 18th and 19th century sutleries, which were expeditionary general stores that offered the paramount essentials to settlers and soldiers. F.S.C. offers a roughly hewn yet refined reinterpretation of this bygone era, one in which a man’s garments were made to be both functional and long lasting.
Sounds like a good fit for a modernified frontier city like SF!
Note: When I first read “Freeman’s Sporting Club” in the subject of the D. Maven’s email, I was sooo hoping it had something to do with ping pong. Alas.
UPDATE: Jane dug up some better pics than the one above:
These are from their current Lookbook which seems to be based off of Mission Stereotypes. There are many more, but here’s ‘skater/tagger,’ ‘bike messenger’ and my personal favorite ‘yuppie DILF.’ LMAO. These folks already have the Jane seal of approval.
Good work, Jane!
Before I go into the top Mission Mission post of 2010, I’d like to tell a story.
I didn’t have a dog or cat growing up. Instead, my parents got us a pair of hamsters. While these little critters aren’t blessed with the talents of learning tricks, episodic memory, or establishing meaningful relationships with their masters, you can put them in a ball and watch them roll around for a couple of hours of entertainment.
We never named them. One was a shy, chill hamster, and the other one was basically a big asshole. At first the bully beat up on chill guy. Then the chill hamster got pretty big and kept the other one in check. This was a good time that I refer to as the “time of serenity”.
The bully hamster didn’t take to this arrangement and eventually started putting in extra hours on the wheel working out. He got stronger, faster, and meaner. When the time was right, he came back in full force. Thus, “the reign of horror” began. The brutal beatings occurred on an nightly basis, culminating in the bully hamster gnawing off the genitals of the other.
My point is, there are some things that can’t be unseen. A hamster’s disfigured, bloody stump of a crotch is one of them. This year in the Mission, a lady shitting on her house is another.
Short story: An anonymous reader caught his upstairs neighbor shitting in the alley of her apartment building.
Long story: When this one showed up in our inbox, we had a lot of questions: Who shits on her own house? Who takes pictures of someone shitting her own house? Did she, you know, wipe? These are important philosophical questions.
Perhaps more baffling than the actual act was the reaction by some of our commenters to the effect of, “Hey! Stop picking on this lady for having a bad day.”
Bad day? I mean, I’ve had to go pretty bad on the road a few times but I’ve always managed to deal with it in a socially acceptable manner. One would think that when you’ve made it to your house, you’ve done the hard part; getting to your bathroom is cake. But I’ll spare you any more, the entire scenario was dissected thoroughly with the 80+ comments here.
Little did we know that this story would captivate San Francisco, even earning us an award for “SF’s Best Photo/Twitpic” in the SF Weekly’s 2010 Web Awards (you can see our fitting reaction at sexpigeon). To use a tired cliche, “only in San Francisco” could a photo of an obeise lady dropping a deuce be considered “the best” of anything.
In the end, I’m not sure what we should take away from this. However, I will say this: we probably need more public bathrooms in the Mission, and less people with high-resolution digital cameras.
Happy new year!