We’re in San Diego’s historic gayborhood, as the locals call it, on a stretch of University Avenue that is home to at least six gay bars (boys bars, as Girton calls them). We sit at a high-top table on the perimeter of the dance floor, chatting about how she opened this bar 12 years ago the doors are open to the patio and I can feel the velvet sun, ubiquitous over Hillcrest, warming my legs.
She’s sporting loud paisley prints in all shades of blue-a party of one at 3 p.m.
Moe Girton’s white-blonde faux-hawk floods cotton-candy pink under Gossip Grill’s disco balls and neon lights.
