SF Girls Versus LA Girls

I was eating a chocolate croissant at Tartine Bakery near Dolores Park, when I caught a girl wearing fake cowboy boots making eyes at me from behind her Macbook. (Again, it is difficult to write about San Francisco and not set a new record for yuppieness in a single sentence.)

She was a pretty girl, well-dressed. But this is the thing:

If she were an artist, she'd be living in Los Angeles.

If she were an actress, she'd be living in Los Angeles.

If she were a musician, she'd be living in Los Angeles.

If she were a stripper, she'd be living in Los Angeles. (Or, admittedly, Las Vegas.)

That leaves me here at Tartine Bakery with: a girl who can write me a sweet press release? Someone who can sell me an awesome text ad? Maybe walk me through a kickass Powerpoint presentation?

The comparison I draw between the female populations of the two cities might easily be expanded into an allegory of the differences between the cities themselves.

(San Francisco apologists will insist with some shrillness that there are also writers and doctors and such in their fair city. But Los Angeles also has such individuals. And so the allegory is extended even further, because everything SF has, LA has as well. Sadly, the converse is not true. )

San Francisco is a charming, elegant, and pretty little town, but spend enough time there and it's hard to shake the feeling that all the truly interesting, hot, and unique entities (things, events, people) are happening somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

Somewhere, perhaps, four hundred miles south on the 5 freeway.