Castro Street Fair was a sweaty parade of parasols and nipples

Castro Street Fair feels like that last hurrah of summer soirées in San Francisco; a swan song to don something campy or slutty and flutter among the social butterflies. Now and forevermore this year, we’ll move full steam into pumpkin spice everything — which is just fine with me.

The 2024 street fair brought us a blistering 94-degree sun, which on the one hand created a veritable meat market with eye candy everywhere. On the other hand, we all huddled beneath every shady area and whined our way through the day. But this also gave us an amazing parasol parade:

The fair feels different post-pandemic, and I don’t mean it’s smaller; In San Francisco we’re often complaining about lifeless parts of town, but to me the Castro Street Fair has been pulling in a large, younger cohort that’s ready to party for the past several years. We did see a bit of a dip because of the heat this year — climate change is real — but likewise still a very enthusiastic crowd in the thousands.

Also of course lots of pamphlet pushing, specifically the political campaigns from the moderate frontrunners popped up all over. I didn’t know Daniel Lurie was courting the gay vote, but of course that’s not surprising. I also spotted Senator Scott Wiener doing his typical walkaround, and then there’s this hilarious photo Mark Farrell posted.

Outdoor parties are all the rage in San Francisco right now, but Castro Street Fair is the OG; It began in 1974 as a way for Supervisor Harvey Milk to bring the local community together, and the small event grew alongside a likewise booming queer community. Now just look at her:

I spotted most of your typical accoutrement on Sunday, from drag shows hosted by Juanita and Mr. David Glamamore to Cheer SF doing flips, basket catches and poses for donations.

Personally, I use this day to remind my local queer cohort that I still exist; I stopped drinking five years ago and turned my attention toward other pursuits, so those who no longer spot my sequin booties at Midnight Sun generally assume I’ve fallen ill with twink death and moved to Vermont.

Alas, if you saw an obnoxiously loud rainbow tulle and sparkle ensemble twirl past you with a phone camera on Sunday — hi.

You know what else wants to be trendy? Mushrooms and their churches. Yes that’s right, you can get some legal mind-altering plants so long as you sign up to worship them, too, which is something I knew but I suppose didn’t expect to have its marketing shoved at me with reckless abandon. Some stickers, flyers, and hats later, I really wanted to assign that “I lost my shroom church virginity” essay for The Bold Italic. No takers yet but I’m still hopeful.

The day ended for us in the most idyllic Castro sitcom sort of way: my boyfriend and I were reminiscing over nonalcoholic wine at Swirl on Castro, when suddenly a friend descends from a house just across the sidewalk. She invites us in to a perfect patio birthday, complete with a DJ and fabulous people in various states of undress.

As the sun dipped behind Twin Peaks and the heat finally relented, the whole day became a little cooler in every sense. We left the final party sun-kissed, smiling, and ready to face the autumn days ahead, and it’s okay if you missed this very long, very hot day of festivities; No matter how the seasons shift in San Francisco, there will always be another chance to dress up and dance.

Saul Sugarman is editor in chief of The Bold Italic.

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