Actually, a lot of people tend to wear black here simply to be different. That's because everything at Neo is white. The tables, the walls, the plates, the chairs, the waitstaff's clothes, the menu -- even the facade of the building is shrouded in a billowy white curtain. The white does not have an entirely heavenly feel, however -- it's not bright or blinding, but instead approaches a cream, an eggshell, an off-white. Meanwhile, the food is quite colorful -- like the very orange squash soup. The pork chop is a giant piece of meat, thick and juicy enough to resemble a filet mignon from across the room. In fact, most of the fare is American; there are even mashed potatoes tucked under the sea bass. And the desserts are just like Grandma used to make: devil's food cake, lemon pudding, ginger bread with ice cream -- though presented avant-garde fashion (very big plate, very small serving). Grandma would not approve. But the hipsters venturing into the Mission District's latest outpost of gentrification certainly do.