19 May 2007 - Day One
Short story: Arrived safely in San Francisco.
Long Story: Lock HIM in. After a long wait at check-in I arrived at my seat to find the 2 other seats in the row occupied by 2 gentlemen flying together to San Francisco. Aussies, Keith (who kept entioning his wife) and James were en route to Minnesota for a work thing that included a trip on a private jet to a private resort. After that they would be returning to SF and taking a tour up the coast on Harleys. Almost as soon as I sat down Keith says "Did you see Eddie Maguire?" and I'm like "No", and he's all "Yeah, he's on this plane apparently". So, while we were trapped in cattle class, "Lock it in" Eddie was living it up at the nose end.
Long flight and took a little longer to land because of cloudy weather (no rain). Caught train to Powell St and walked to Youth Hostel. Wasn't allowed to check in so left suitcase and went exploring. Found the best fabric/ribbon/button store I have ever seen at Union Square. A real multi-storey affair. Sadly, no beads.
Then, headed across the street to Neiman Marcus. I'd been there before but this store was insane. Mini-stores of all the biggies - Chanel, Gucci, Ferragamo, Vuitton, Tod's... and then I happened up on a real treat. The Neiman Marcus Fur Salon. Yes, furs. There were some assistants congregated outside the salon, one of whom reassured me that yes I could go in and if there was anything I wanted to try on just let them know... I ventured in.
Preface: I eat meat never, buy leathergoods sparingly and in no way, shape or form condone or support the fur trade. But his curiosity begged a look.
Needless to say that I was not charmed by: a seal fur coat nor a lovely red number with a leopard print collar, nor a full length affair for $US12 000, nor various other items in all shades of brown down to a soft mauve - ideal for the blue-rinse set.
Hot-footed it out of there and upstairs to examine the shoes. Who knew that Marc Jacobs would make platform sneakers with an espadrill look sole, covered in gold sequins - and who could have forseen that these beauties wouldn't sell and so would have to be marked down? And as for Manolo Blahnik - what's with all the flatties and ballerinas? Carrie Bradshaw, eat your heart out.
And finally my charming food finds of the day. Potato chips (Pringles style) coated in various chocolates, and tortilla chips, similarly enrobed. And so concluded my perusing.
Checked-in, gt a few hours sleep and here I am in the computer room of the hostel.
Oh yeah, and now the US government has my (and everyone else who has entered the country recently's) index fingerprints...
Sayonara, 'til next time.
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