Mission Mission

Whoever reads my posts in the blogosphere might think that I am a mean, pretentious person. But I’m truly not – many things I call out tend to be true! Just two days after posting “Bars in the Mission: Beauty Bar & Delirium”, I received a text message from my co-worker who recently moved from her home town of San Diego to San Francisco. I quote: “We’re going to Puerte Allegre for margaritas and Mexican food, then we’re going to hit up a few bars.” Now, I keep my blogging hidden from parco acquatico gonfiabile my co-workers, for fear they might discover my awesomeness, so I doubt she read my blog post. However, I must make a slight retraction in regards to the Beauty Bar. I have been there a few more times since the post (for Black Lip Jared’s DJ set and Detroit Soul Thursday), and I must admit that before 10pm, the bar is pretty cool. The people are decent, the bar is not crowded, and the place isn’t stinky. They also have some cool music. The shitty DJs and the “mission ghetto” (as some of the regulars call the clientele) arrive after 10pm. So Katie’s Love-Hate relationship summary: go for Happy Hour, but not for a night out.

Beauty Bar, San Francisco originally uploaded by charlotte.wright

I’ve noticed the droves of young females who spend their nights at Beauty Bar. It’s mainly young undergrads who’ve recently migrated from Southern California to a three-bed share in the Tenderloin. Their version of the Mission is meeting friends at Puerto Allegre for uninteresting margaritas and enchiladas, then shaking their shoulders with some date-rape shirt to some sub-par DJ at Beauty Bar. A few months go by, and they’re standing in the cocaine line at Delirium wondering if the douchebag in the corner with the purple kerchief sitting pretty on his scruffy, smelly neck is checking out her American Apparel sangria-colored tights. Do these tourists make the Mission, or does the Mission make the tourist?