I drive the same streets every day. To work, from work. And even in a beautiful city like San Francisco, with all its natural scenery and interesting architecture, things become a blur. Like the breakfast you prepare everyday, the same face in the same clothes you've seen in the mirror for years, it all becomes... Continue Reading →
These motels aren't beauty queens, but they are worth acknowledging. For many built in the 1950s, the architectural purity has been chipped away and the cool mid-century styling is gone. But it's not only the looks, it's where this motel row lands in the timeline of San Francisco history that attracts me. I imagine late Depression-era... Continue Reading →
In the northern part of San Francisco, there is a vintage enthusiast's treasure - Lombard Street's Motel Row. Not far from the much photographed "crookedest street in the world" is a stretch of utilitarian looking blocks that house about two dozen motels. These motels, made for travelers and their cars, started springing up in the... Continue Reading →
On a warm February night in San Francisco the streets teemed with people, stressed looking salary men and women with their jaws clenched tight, raving lunatics with pants hanging just a little too south of the equator, and a distinct crowd of sharply dressed, hat wearing people. These haberdashery fans were my people, and they... Continue Reading →
We're having our own personal San Francisco Noir film festival in our house as a warm up to the real noir festival coming soon, and found Portrait in Black on Youtube. We thought we had found the wrong movie because it was in color. Film noir in color (and with Sandra Dee in it)? Some people... Continue Reading →
Ah, the holidays are over, no more false cheer and shiny baubles, life is back to "noirmal." Instead of glad rags and magpie trinkets, I got this great book: San Francisco Noir by Nathaniel Rich. Published in 2005 by The Little Bookworm, New York. More about the book. There are over 40 movies to choose from in... Continue Reading →
There is a lot of noir in San Francisco. Not only what's on its fog stained surface, but in its raw, marrow filled bones. The gold digging hooligans and glassy-eyed dames that worked these streets suffered to make it what it is, they suffered big time in this little city. The darkness, rankness and seething... Continue Reading →
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