Nerissa, 30, 7x7 associate editor
Lives in: Outer Sunset
Wearing: White House Black Market scoopneck tunic, Danskin cropped leggings, White House Black Market peep toe pumps, rose gold and sterling silver branch earrings by Joy O Designs, Express wide black patent leather belt.
My style icon: My mom—the type of woman who puts on lipstick and diamonds to run and get milk at the grocery store.
If you ask me, lots of restaurants these days seem indistinguishable from each other. Interiors boasting chocolate hues, exposed brick walls, dark wood floors, marble-topped bars, vaulted ceilings and Edison lamps, with menus highlighting the ubiquitous small plates trend (that I thought was ending, but was wrong). You know what I’m talking about. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but sometimes a girl craves something more unique.
So much fog, so many chilly days, but right now the payoff: sunshine—our little gift from the gods for our suffering. The fog has its charm of course but right now is my favorite time of year here in our sun-kissed 7x7 miles of heaven.
And as we continue to enjoy a sensational end to our Indian summer, here are a few of my fave things to do when the sun shines. I ask of you just one thing, do not eat lunch at your desk; instead, venture outside, go to a restaurant with a patio or get something to go and sit in the park.
By root on October 26, 2007 11:07 AM
My parents tell a legendary story (which we kids have all heard, by now, a half-dozen times) about going to a game supper one fall night in Vermont. There, curiosity piqued, they tried squirrel, bear, moose and deer, raccoon and grouse. They enjoyed everything, left the dinner full and happy, and then awoke in the middle of the night, stomachs rolling, sick. Was it the bear?
While on Lower Haight last night I stumbled upon a new restaurant called Baghdad Nights (682 Haight St., 415-861-6111) with elaborate, colorful signage and a flyer advertising belly dancing in the window. Turns out it’s a new (and as far as I can tell, SF’s only) Iraqi restaurant, staffed by Iraqi-Americans—each last one of them super-friendly and attentive.
I’ve been thinking a lot about noisy sex lately. Not because I can hear my neighbors having sex, but because the volume of noise during sex can send some friends, lovers and certainly neighbors over the edge. Then I read this Yahoo news story about the effects of grunting during exercise, and it got me even more curious about the correlation between noise and good sex.
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