Before opening Linda’s Ocean Nails, Chris worked with her mother across the street at another nail salon for 10 years and part-time at Wells Fargo. After majoring in accounting at San Francisco State University, Chris decided to open a nail salon instead of becoming an accountant so that her mother could work for her and get the treatment she deserved. “I decided to come back here and run the place myself because I saw my mom struggling with her business because of the language barrier and her not-so-good English,” Chris recalls. That was in 1998. Her sisters, Bella and Cindy, joined later after earning their cosmetology licenses.
When we met, her parents were in Vietnam on vacation, visiting friends and family they’d never seen before. Though Chris has made enormous sacrifices to keep the salon running during the pandemic and her sisters’ multiple maternity leaves (at one point she was the shop’s only manicurist), she and her husband have raised two children, one of whom graduated from Lowell High School and UC Davis, and bought a house in the neighboring Lakeview neighborhood.
Hung and Rivera sit inside Pho Ha Tien, a Vietnamese restaurant in Ingleside. (Gina Castro/KQED)
After our first lunch break, we crossed the water again to Pho Ha Tien, a Vietnamese restaurant right next door to Chris’s shop, to meet owner Steve Cheng. I was already pretty full, but there’s always room for pho. The chicken pho broth here was perfectly clear and generously seasoned. But the highlight was the signature five-spice chicken thigh, served off the bone with rice. It’s an easy dinner Chris orders for his family when his mother is out of the country.
Chen is also from the city, having graduated from Reading Elementary School in the Tenderloin, Marina Junior High School, and Lincoln High School one year before Chris. Like Chris, Chen has taken over the family business and “semi-retired” his parents, who are available whenever they want to help out or just hang out. “I tell my parents to stay home, but they’re like, ‘What am I supposed to do at home?'” Chen laughs. Chen has three children, two of whom are in their 20s. When asked if he wants them to take over the business, Chen shook his head and said, “To be honest, I don’t want them to be involved in the restaurant business at all.”
“It’s tough,” agrees Chris. During the pandemic, Chris’ landlord barely budges the rent for her nail salon, and she says she has bills to pay. It took nine months for her to reopen; two for Chen’s restaurant. He’s owed back pay, and his landlord also added an annual rent increase. Both businesses have weathered their toughest years yet, but it’s still not clear whether things are getting better or worse. “This is the reality, you just have to weather it,” Chen says.
From left, five-spice chicken, chicken pho and charcoal-grilled shrimp vermicelli bowl are some of the home-style Vietnamese dishes at Pho Ha Tien. (Gina Castro/KQED)
San Francisco allowed businesses to get out of their long-term leases during the pandemic, but it didn’t provide incentives for businesses like Linda’s Ocean Nails and Pho Ha Tien to stay. When the CVS across the street closed, Chen noticed a drop in foot traffic, and then when the Target down the block followed suit, foot traffic dropped even more. “It’s like dominoes falling. You look at these little businesses and you think, what opportunities do we have when these big franchises close? Now, every block you go to, there are at least three to five that have closed. You can count from here,” Chen says, gesturing toward the window.
Previously, all three stores stayed open late, and Chris would often unwind after work by ordering food and browsing the other nearby businesses. Across the street, a bar once featured live music, but now, for safety reasons, the last customers are welcomed at 6:30 p.m. Chris believes Little Sweet’s late hours and frequent burglaries may have contributed to its closure. “We need mom-and-pop businesses around here, especially on Ocean Avenue,” Chris says. But the neighborhood’s recent challenges require special consideration from the city beyond pandemic precautions that many immigrant-owned businesses under-utilized in the first place.
“I can always afford pho,” Rivera said. (Gina Castro/KQED)
But the block also has some silver linings: A brother-run cafe converted into a pizza place after reopening, and a bustling house across the street now advertises a night market, among other things that have managed to pivot.
“A night market would be great, it would bring people to Ocean Avenue and let people know we’re there,” Chris says. But it’s the little things that help, too, like word of mouth from her customers and the lights the city recently installed along the street for the holidays. “When the lights are up, it feels so bright, safe and good. After being there for years, these changes make a big difference.” She hopes Ingleside will be a neighborhood where residents can socialize and get to know each other.
“Like a sunset, I want to sit outside, have a coffee and enjoy the weather. Well, maybe I won’t enjoy the weather,” she says with a laugh, knowing she has to be realistic.
I rarely find myself around Ocean Avenue in the evening, but this day in Ingleside got me thinking about the possibilities in this part of town I love. I don’t live or work here, but I cross the bridge every three weeks and make it a destination, rain or shine. Whether I’m here for a chrome-plated reptile claw or a delicious, steaming bowl of pho, I can rest easy knowing Chris is working his magic.
Hung poses for a portrait at her family-owned nail salon in Ingleside. (Gina Castro/KQED)
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