Last Saturday, I realized a life goal. Ok, more of a “this would be super amazing if it actually happened, but it probably won’t, and life will go on” sort of thing. I first ventured to Harlot in the fall of 2010, just after Jim and I moved here and were absolutely penniless. Through a friend of a friend and an interesting series of events, we would up quasi-crashing a stunning loft birthday party in SOMA, a neighborhood that was unknown to me until that evening. After staring out the glittering windows for what seemed like the entire evening, the crew moved on to Harlot and my first San Francisco club experience. Burlesque dancers gyrated in ever corner, beautiful women in sequins draped themselves over the bottle service couches, and the air lit up with the giant sparklers that accompanied every bottle of champagne or liquor that a table ordered. It was glamour on acid, and I was obsessed.
Since then, the sparkler experience stuck in the back of my mind as a fluffy life goal and a guilty pleasure aspiration (akin to how I secretly hope to visit all the bars and brunch places that would have appeared in a SF version of Sex and the City). Although my income has yet to reach bottle service-like proportions, a sweet coworker arranged a birthday surprise for me when I visited the club with friends. Sparklers came at our table from every angle, and I felt like I was in a strangely delicious mashup of Gossip Girl and The Princess Diaries. It was one for the ages, and I’ll never forget it.
I may be proud of my fashion evolution since those army drab days in middle school, but I’m even more proud of how much I’ve grown to love baseball over the past few years. And there’s nothing like a pair of Poseys at the ballpark to raise your Giants spirit!
T minus eight hours until Game 6. Let’s do this. #OrangeOctober
We all know how much I love rooftops and how San Francisco is stubbornly empty of them. Even though it’s not an everyday occurrence, the penthouse at The Battery is perfection, and I was so stoked to get to journey up there for a recent 7×7 event. Even Karl the Fog stayed at bay during the party. Sure was nice of you, K the F.
In this snap, I feel like SF was saying, “See, Sarah? We may not have cold weather or pretty leaves like Minnesota, but we still have fall light.” And how.
I love when our editors do a story on the best pies of the city. In the span of a single week, we had over two dozen beauties delivered to our office. #journalismishard
I would also be remiss to put up this rare post without acknowledging the birthday of a certain handsomely bearded husband of mine. Love