Outsiders think of the San Francisco Bay Area as the land of the libertine: sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll, and tech zillionaires.  Of course, generalizations have many exceptions, but the following seems more valid.

I am speaking here not about the many poor people who live here in the San Francisco Bay Area, but about people we think of as middle- or upper-income.

Yes, there’s a tiny percentage of conspicuous consumers, like the Silicon Valley pooh-bahs who live in a compound, own a phallic-symbol yacht, and wear a diamond-studded Rolex.  But those are dwarfed by what I call The San Francisco Ascetics, who want to appear proletarian — for example, wearing loose-fitting cotton clothes in Soviet Gray or Protest Black.

The S.F. Ascetic does allow a few conspicuous-consumptive purchases.  One used to be a Tesla until Elon Musk revealed himself to be not-liberal.  Today, the Ascetics have granted the Patagonia brand an exception.  My wonderful Uniqlo fleece cost me $30, whereas a Patagonia-brand fleece costs five or more times that.  Why does Patagonia get a dispensation, with many far-from-rich S.F. Ascetics willing to splurge on Patagonia stuff, from jackets ($159 to $329), to t-shirts ($45) to, yes, boxer shorts ($35)?  Patagonia’s owner transferred ownership of 98% of the company’s voting stock to a nonprofit that gives only to liberal causes.

The S.F. Ascetic forgoes the higher income and efficiency of the corporate sector for jobs at nonprofits or government.  And even if they’re financially gulping to stay afloat, they vote to pay more taxes — for example, the current Measure EE to fix the streets and sidewalks, although one wonders, with Bay Area taxes already so high, how the government couldn’t already have the money to fix something as basic as potholes.

The S.F. Ascetic shrugs at inflation’s additional bite from his already government-chewed paycheck, comforted that some of that bite is green tax: the newest crop of environmental mandates on producers and distributors.

Even if the S.F. Ascetic must languish in stressful traffic (in his E.V., or at least hybrid), he votes for politicians who, instead of building roads and lanes to accommodate the population increase to ease the blood pressure–raising traffic, decreases lanes, converting them into largely unused bike lanes or shrub clumps to force people into mass transit.  S.F. Ascetics dutifully use their cars less or give them up entirely and resort to bicycles despite their slowness and exposing riders to far greater risk of a life-changing collision with a car or truck.

The S.F. Ascetic is vegetarian, if not vegan, preferring locally grown organic, even though that takes yet another bite from his paycheck.  The S.F. Ascetic is mollified by the fact that raising beef requires much water — no burgers for the S.F. Ascetic.  Chicken?  Factory farms are anathema.

The S.F. Ascetic walks the earth with a flat or worried expression, stressed not just by the aforementioned, but by the head-shaking cost of rent, let alone of buying a home.  Then there’s the out-of-control crime.  Even in the middle-class area of Oakland where I live, many of us have had break-ins, smash-’n’-grabs, or our catalytic converters stolen, often more than once.  Also, the S.F. Ascetic worries about the U.S.’s fate, at least until Harris wins.  Or he’s angry about race, gender, sexual orientation, capitalism, or especially Donald Trump.  I have two friends, otherwise pacific, who said that if they could, they’d kill Trump.

The S.F. Ascetic is less likely to enjoy parenthood’s satisfactions.  Many are proudly “child-free,” and those with children are hyper-protective, rarely allowing their kids to play unsupervised or unscheduled.

The S.F. Ascetic prefers minimalist spare-time activities: rock-climbing, backpacking, hiking, protesting, and weed, which may not only decrease motivation and memory, but increase the risk of traffic accidents, cancer, heart disease, anxiety, depression, even psychosis.

Some people admire the S.F. Ascetic even when he is hypocritical — for example, being individualistic rather than collectivist.  I don’t know of one Bay Area person, ascetic or otherwise, who has a homeless person or illegal alien living in his home, let alone rent-free.

In some ways, I am like an S.F. Ascetic.  But between you and me, I do wonder about them when they become full-fledged.

Image via Pexels.