Someone recently posted a snapshot from that stretch of the Outer Sunset, captioned simply: "Old school." And honestly? That two-word description says more about what makes San Francisco worth living in than most of the city's own marketing campaigns.

While visitors pack absurd amounts of activity into 72-hour blitzes — one local put it perfectly: "Do you plan on actually enjoying any of the places you're visiting? Just seems so hectic" — residents know that the real texture of this city lives in the unglamorous blocks. The dim sum spots with no English menus. The hardware stores that have somehow survived four decades of rising rents. The bakeries where the owner recognizes your order before you say it.

This is also what makes the neighborhood-level economics of San Francisco so worth defending. Every time City Hall layers on another permit fee, another compliance requirement, another bureaucratic hoop for small businesses, it's these blocks that feel it first. The trendy corridors in Hayes Valley and the Marina will adapt — they've got investor capital and Instagram buzz. Noriega? It runs on thinner margins and deeper roots.

There's an ongoing conversation about whether San Francisco is friendly or cold. As one resident observed, it's less about unfriendliness and more about "normal US city living stuff" — the social rhythm of a dense place where you pass hundreds of people daily. Fair enough. But the neighborhoods where people actually do warm up — at the coffee shop counter, at the farmer's market, over a nod exchanged on the same Monday morning walk — those are the neighborhoods that still function like communities rather than curated experiences.

The city spends enormous energy and money trying to attract visitors. Maybe it should spend a fraction of that making sure the "old school" parts of town — the ones residents actually love — can afford to stick around.