If Holly Golightly had practiced her insouciant brand of hedonism just a few years longer -- waiting out the goody-two-shoes good times of the late 1950s and early 1960s and helping herald in America's groovy, post-JFK counterculture -- she wouldn't have had any more breakfasts at Tiffany's. She would have enjoyed brunches at Shangri-La, a trippy time capsule of a diner nestled among the vintage stores of Cherokee Street's quaint Antique Row. The place screams acid trip, from the Pucci-inspired hanging beads to the Yellow Submarine poster at the counter. Shangri-La is only open four days a week, serving breakfast Thursday through Saturday and an all-you-can-eat buffet brunch on Sunday that brings out south city's artsy-fartsies in droves. Shangri-La is a vegetarian (not vegan) restaurant, so the food can be hippy-dippy: scrambled tofu, multigrain toast, fake bacon. But there's also a gluttonous crme brélée French toast, fruit pie and sprightly fresh-squeezed strawberry-lime-orange juice. As the Archies would have sung (probably in a place much like this one): aw, sugar sugar!