Meet George and Nina Giavris and their labor of love: the Silver Crest Donut Shop, an icon that’s been open for nearly 54 years straight at 340 Bayshore Boulevard in San Francisco, California.
Their stretch of Bayshore is like any grungy thoroughfare in any industrial zone—greasy body shop, gloomy carpet place, growing camp of homeless people alongside a Lowe’s—but then there it is: a strikingly red building, a flash of weathered neon, an improbable promise issued since 1970. We Never Close. From the Vietnam War through AIDS and OJ and 9/11 and Iraq, the same couple from Loukas was behind the same counter, pouring the same coffee.
You’ve already eaten, but Pam gauges you need eggs. She’s new here—started a mere three-plus decades ago. She puts in the order, and you sit. The wind blows, the doors creak open, a leaf skitters in. Hard to pinpoint exactly when the clock stopped, but judging by the fonts and the color scheme and the pinball and the fried ham and the jukebox selections and somehow the quality of the air you breathe, the planet’s orbit of the sun halted in the late ’70s or early ’80s. So thorough is the effect that occasional intrusions of modernity—the chime of a phone, a person under 40 entering—register simply as glitches in the code and thus fail to break the spell.
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