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This is so much less about my outfit than it is San Francisco’s unfailing yet surprising and constant beauty. All these were taken over the range of a few hours at most, and the various backdrops are within mere minutes of each other. It is easy to forget how remarkable this city is; true passion and loyalty requires constant devotion, the ability to let certain angles fade and slide back into focus. It reminds me of set changes in an opera or musical. Or of love.

Wonder will come and go like the tide when you live here, is what I am getting at, and this day was full of it.

Ocean Beach was cold but clear as a bell, and it sure didn’t stop dozens of kite surfers from getting into the Pacific’s icy waters. M insisted on skipping rocks into the waves and we ran around like banshees in the spray and blowing sand. Those branches I’m clutching on? That’s in Golden Gate Park, in front of Rainbow Falls. Man made or not, it’s a tranquil little place to stop on John F. Kennedy Drive. Finally, there’s the delightful Tulip Garden (though these photos are suspiciously devoid of tulips), which lies in the shadow of the historic Dutch Windmill (and used to pump tens of thousands of gallons of water into the park!).

And there you are. For the record, I’m wearing Lamica boots with H&M jeans, a random flimsy tee with a little zippered pocket, an old striped scarf and my Blanc Noir wool coat. The cheeky hat is M’s, and she got it from a little gay boy boutique on Castro Street. The boys working there bickered lovingly in a very entertaining manner. Goorin Bros. hand warmers and Spy sunglasses.

But I know y’all are going to fuss over the scenery, so do!

XO,

FFAF

C’mon, folks, we’re taking a stroll. This outfit really isn’t anything special, but it’s been awhile since the sun has shone on a wintry Sunday here in San Francisco, so we’re going to wander through the Mission into the Castro for M’s haircut (it’s been about six weeks and she was starting to get all ornery about it), and you can enjoy the sights, sounds and tastes with us along the way.

We found this pink house around the corner from M’s barber shop on Market. It has a fantastic little mail slot for the post, above.

Unionmade is an incredible, incredible men’s store on Sanchez. I’ve been wanting to wander in for some time now, and I’m so glad we finally did. The boys at the counter were good-natured and adorable about M & I threatening to move in, joking that it was open concept and cheaper than our current flat. Everything they carry is gorgeous, from the heaviest, highest quality wool sweaters, handmade and signed for in Denmark, to tees so soft and wafer-thin they catch your breath, and lots and lots of leather goods and manly, officious nautical instruments and things to admire. See M peeking through their store window down there?

To the right of the store, the Victorian that M would like us to move into. Below left, the J heading out of Dolores Park, where hipsters were out in full effect, crawling out of their tobacco- and PBR-stained ratholes to undulate feverishly in the light of day, neon sunglasses at the ready. Sigh. Fortunately, the line at Bi-Rite Creamery wasn’t too bad (and I got to pop into Joy O Designs next door and drool at all the jewelry and clutches) and M & I both got single scoops with two flavors each: vanilla malt with peanut brittle and chocolate bits, roasted banana, honey lavender and mint chip. Everything was good except the honey lavender, which tasted like “eating a stick of laundry detergent” according to M, but Humphry’s still beats out Bi-Rite and Mitchell’s, we’ve decided. IT IS WHAT IT IS, KIDS. Deal with it. I will say that my ice cream cone lasted me from 18th & Dolores all the way to Paxton Gate, which is fairly impressive.

Clockwise from top left:

• The Smile, You’re In SF! hidden camera art in an abandoned gas station, with a homeless guy napping in a pile of trash next to it.
• Open House sign for a ridiculously overpriced flat in our neighborhood. See below for up close awesomeness.
• This lady was standing at the corner of 22nd & Valencia holding a sign that said “You Are Perfect” for no apparent reason.
• The Marsh doing some sort of weird taping – “What Is A Wife?” and “Faces, Feelings & Lies”.
• Try French Kiss! Don’t mind if I do! Thanks, bossy street graffiti!
• Bi-Rite’s flavor sign and ice cream tubs. Mm.

We walked over three miles! It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon, after sleeping in and dilly-dallying over coffee and Grey’s Anatomy for the Wii all morning. Tonight, M made her delicious secret recipe burgers and I made my fantastic homemade french fries, and we baked a batch of chocolate thumbprint cookies with a vanilla bean & chocolate ganache. They’re still setting, so the verdict is out still on their deliciousness!

Hope y’all had a fantastic weekend and HAPPY FEBRUARY! It’s the month of love, y’all. In eleven days we’ll mark the 5th year of our very first meeting, and February 2006 was the month we became real “girlfriends”, too, if you can believe it. Even if you haven’t got a loverbird, I believe firmly in loving on yourself, so you’d better! XOXO.

PS. If you like my shirt and / or want to see others like it, check out Lola Starr’s online boutique. I bought mine after attending one of her super amazing, outdoor, nighttime, themed roller skating parties on Coney Island in 2008.

PPS. Wanna live here?

HA! HA! HA!

Please to meet the wonderfully brilliant and gorgeous Kate. She came to stay with us for a few days and we had some excellent SF adventures together. The photos above are from a nice little walkabout we had through the Mission, in search of carnitas by the pound, chili/salt/lemon-drenched mango slices and Humphrey’s Secret Breakfast ice cream. It was overcast and cold, but we bundled up and dragged our hungover asses through the Mission and were met with much success (and an angry drunk, but that is neither here nor there). We stopped to take a few photos by some of the many, many amazing murals that can be found in our ‘hood.

Below, you’ll find Kate & I all sassed up and ready to go dancing. The tomboy snapped these before an epic night of Osha Thai (Kate ordered this massive fried rice dish served in half a pineapple! We all drank lychee cocktails!), a George Michael singalong at the Lexington and shaking what our mama gave us at Cockblock. It was all very wonderful and we had enough fun for the entire mafia. And then some.

CONFESSION: On our 5th consecutive day of blissful holiday PTO, M took me to see A Single Man (remember when I mentioned it here back in November?). Despite the dreariness of the day, we bravely set out on BART to catch it playing down by the water at the Embarcadero theater. I really, really enjoyed it. It was delicious. There’s an old L-Word actress cameo, model cameos, a Mad Men cameo, and one other that I cannot quite recall. It was a touch slow in places, but it’s so visually saturated that it really doesn’t matter, and it made me cry. On our way home we took these silly photos, and then it began to rain, so we hustled inside, made a big spaghetti dinner, opened a bottle of tasty red from Spain, and then FINALLY got around to the Johnnie Walker Black Label blending session we’ve been postponing forever. Dreamy.

Y’all can have special insider pics of the super elaborate scotch whisky blending set-up, because I love you like that:

CONFESSION: In spite of the fact that this dress is super fun, I’m getting the distinct feeling that old 2009 isn’t going to go without a fight. You know what, 2009? EAT A BAG OF DICKS AND GOOD RIDDANCE TO BAD TRASH! I’m not scared of you. You, my friend, are on your last wonky leg. (No offense to bona fide wonky-legged pups – they are precious and deserve nothing but endless love.)

Perhaps that’s a bit unfair. 2009 wasn’t exactly bad, I mean, it wasn’t full of absolute misery and suffering, not at all. It was simply a year of bipolar highs and lows, and I am only saying, “We had a good run, 2009, you taught me a lot and I don’t regret the stellar changes and growth you saw me through. But you were a little unfair, a little hysterical, you threw one too many hissyfits and, in the end, you just weren’t there for me. You were kind of a cocktease, also. Your upside just isn’t good enough, considering all of the risk.” Harsh? Perhaps.

C’est la vie! 2010 is a fresh start. Go on. Touch me.

CONFESSION A: So, last we heard, the tomboy was getting on a fancy yacht and leaving the femme behind…can you see her up there, walking away? So sad. Sad and alone. (Don’t listen for one second to that nonsense M commented about my slapping her…that was for something else and she knows it!)

CONFESSION B: As ever, all my silly pouting was for naught. Yesterday afternoon, I saw M off on her yacht  and she had a good time – the food was great, she said, and not only did they serve champagne but she had her fair share of rum & cokes, too. As they made their way toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I trekked my ass (in heels and fancy hair, of course) from Pier 3 to Pier 39 in like 10 minutes flat, marched into the first fancy restaurant I saw and very sweetly asked for a seat over the water on the second story outside. I figured it was worth a (long) shot. To my utter surprise, I was gestured in right away and seated just in time for the show to start. It was such a gorgeous, cloudless day to be on the water. I ordered a very delicious rose petal gimlet with a float of champagne to make a DIY French 75 and some tasty lunch and got my camera ready to take some pics.

Those angels wrought glorious havoc over the bay and SF skyline and Golden Gate, and I had so much fun watching it. Excepting M’s view, I couldn’t have had a better one myself. They really are something else to watch. They flew so close that one colleague of M’s almost dropped her drink in shock on the upper deck, as it tore past them. We texted each other back and forth like dorks, in total awe and, you know, because we missed each other. Like dorks.

And then it ended! Much too soon, but when I saw M’s yacht heading back toward Pier 3, I closed out my bill, stopped downstairs for some hot baby donuts and cotton candy for the petite, and met M back by the Ferry Building, where we chattered about fighter jets and our meals and cocktails and took a bunch of FFAF photos. It was a perfectly imperfect Friday!

Oh, and I took the trolley back, but only because I didn’t want the baby donuts to get cold! Clang-clang-clang!

I am so upset that I cannot get my nifty slideshow to work. I will keep at it and post as is for now. XO!

From Movies

When: Tues., February 10th, 2009.

What: H&M dress and orange knit arm warmers. Black tights from Old Navy, satin blouse from Libertine for Target, satin bow headband from Claire’s (shut up). Black peacoat by Blanc Noir and boots by Lamica.

Scent: Serge Lutens Un Lys, oh. Since most flowers are obviously girls, let’s imagine a dear lily stumbling upon a fetching lilac, falling madly in love and living happily ever after. ON MY WRIST. Until a vicious, cruel and incurable case of LBD sets in (read = the dry down) and all that’s left is the sickly sweet memory of what once was. Still, the love here is so, so pure and stunning. Lily and Lilac share the kind of love that makes everyone around them want to be in love, too. After a few hours this turns into creamy vanilla and just the whisper of floral left…too sweet and flat. If this fragrance were a grainy old foreign film, it would be absolutely perfect.

Confession: AYL! I have decided that I must first clean my room before I even think about taking photos of my closet. Both are an absolute wreck, but I’m working on it! Also? Y’all, tomorrow is the anniversary of the day (night, really) M and I first met four years ago! DREAMY. Let’s just all take a minute and thank Dolly that she and I met one night so long ago, because neither of us believes in the Oxford comma, God or neglecting booze! Soulmates!

Happy anniversary, angelface! I love you so!