People call me Tallulah but that's not my name

Finally, I have a chance to try on those liquid leggings spotted in the the store window months ago.

But alas, she tells me that they're very popular right now, and that there's only a size small and size medium left. Doesn't fit. But I do get a chance to chat up the lovely store owner Kimberly, a slender, dark-haired, 30-something who's wearing a silk floral scarf and faded three-quarter sleeve T-shirt, styled to match the antiquated-industrial of her store. We talk about downtown, and she says, look it's so dead here, with slight sarcasm in her laugh. Then tells me all about the next Art Hop on Saturday, January 24 from four to six. And that they're bringing back Thursday-night farmers market next year, since unruly bathroom-raiders and closing-early store owners put a stop to the food and craft vendors gathered on N Street.

And no, her name is not Tallulah Brigitta though it says so on the card. People call her Tallulah, and think she's from The City when she actually grew up in Livingston but she does like SF and the opportunity to dress how you want there without people thinking and saying you're a freak.

I take a flowery clothing boutique card from the disk on the counter. It's labeled Tallulah Brigitta, with a street address, website and myspace page but not her name, and promise to stop by her store in January if not before.