You’d better watch out.
You’d better not cry.
You’d better not pout – I’m telling you why!

Santa Claus is coming to town. It’s Christmas Eve, everyone! The FFAF household is all bustling with excitement (and buzzing from a steady stream of mimosas). The presents are all piled high, the fire is ready for lighting (once it cools down – it’s glorious and warm out today!), the homemade shortbread and pumpkin cheesecake are baking and everything is delightful. M’s mama is here and we’re all enjoying her stay, the petite is reveling in sundry birthday pleasures (grandma french braided her hair, she’s wearing her new Anderson Silva t-shirt, and watching a Twilight Saga marathon) before we head out later this evening for a celebratory dinner at an Indian restaurant.

Thirteen, the petite has declared, is the year she’ll develop a refined taste for Indian food.

Hair-whipping. I hear it’s a thing.

Kidding, kidding. So, when we last left off, M was discussing work holiday parties and you saw her ensemble. Here is mine! I was going to go with a festive green frock, but it felt a little too whimsical and not quite serious enough for a professional event. This felt more in line, and when M found her tartan plaid tie, that was that! It was settled immediately. Conservative cut, bold color, glittering gold accessories. Done and done!

Dress: Donna Ricco
Shoes: Linea Paolo
Clutch: Handmade
Necklace: Banana Republic
Cocktail Ring: H&M
Barrette: Buffalo Exchange

These shoes are high as a kite, but comfortable as all get-out. Honest. I was worried, but they were a dream all night long! I am also rocking the OPI “Burlesque” nail polish in “Bring On The Bling”, which is still my current favorite. It was a great evening. The galleries were fascinating. Dinner was pleasant. The obligatory work bit was amusing to employees and SOs alike. The desserts were mountains of mouth-watering petit fours. The museum itself, as I said before, is just beautiful.

I still love that we hightailed it out of there as the dancing began and made a beeline for The Lexington. For proper drinks. Of course.

Merry Christmas, kittens! XO!

The last hurrah for my bright white linen tunic! I love the pintucks and the rolled-up sleeves. This was a few weekends ago, when M & I decided to go hunting for treasures at the Alemany Flea, and boy did we find treasures! Mine are too numerous to count, though my new brown lace-up booties are at the top of the list, and M’s is featured below.

Here are some hints:

It’s politically incorrect.
It’s made of leather.
It’s vintage.

Any guesses?

This makes no sense, I realize, but there was a half-broken chair just lying in a alley and so I had to finish breaking it. I just had to.

Even Scab the Cat agrees, you see?

Are you still guessing?

You know what else doesn’t make sense? THIS MURAL. What the hell?!?! It’s a near-naked lady riding a snaggle-tooth pig-hippo thing. Maybe she’s even nude. WHO CAN SAY. This lady. Also, her foundation doesn’t match her body. It’s too dark. SWATCH THAT ISH IN NATURAL LIGHT, FOR GOOD GRIEFS! Sigh.

IT’S A HOLSTER! A very handsome holster in supple leather made right in Texas, thanks. And do you know what M did the night she got it? She put it on over her manties (like Whitney, but different), and slept in it. I would awaken lightly in the night and M & I would rotate our spoons in the other direction, and I’d get a lovely whiff of tomboy skin + leather, and do you know what that combination does, ladies?

Yes. Yes, you do.

It makes femmes desperately, inconsolably horny.

Well, not inconsolably. But it’ll take awhile. The consoling and such.

Hi. Console me. Accessory city, good grief! Let’s break this down, femme-style:

Camel-y suede ruched boots: Buffalo Exchange
Leggings: Nordstrom Rack
Tunic: Banana Republic
Belt, Bag, Earrings: Vintage
Mini-purse: Modcloth
Watch: Guess face w/ vintage wristband

M wears a Fyasko shirt with BDG jeans and Etnies sneakers. Aldo sunglasses. Vintage .357 revolver gun holster.

The pics above are from an excellent little block party we stumbled upon after the flea-marketing. Amazing quesadillas fresh from the grill, paired perfectly with homemade sangria, a cheeky poet at an old typewriter writing custom poetry, a nice band, friendly folks, cute dogs and a fierce bean bag competition. Which I won, natch.

O C E A N!

H I G H W A Y 1!

H A L F M O O N B A Y!

M fawning over seaside Pampas Grass like she’s never seen it before in all her life. Watching surfers take to the waves at Moss Beach.

Lunch and window-shopping in Half Moon Bay. Gawking at the 1,535 lb. pumpkin that won the Safeway World Championship Pumpkin Weigh-Off this year. Antiques at our favorite spot. Finding gold-flecked vintage ski pants and an equestrian scarf for pennies. Picking up fancy unpasteurized Manchego cheese and Spanish Marcona almonds to nibble on with a fresh loaf of artisan French bread.

Hayrides, haunted houses and petting zoos at the pumpkin patches. Frolicking about at Montara Beach, where the waves offshore got so big and so tall that they’d briefly block out the horizon, and where it was so clean that not even the seagulls bothered with it. A giggly sunset at Rockaway Beach.

There is nothing like being towed around a pumpkin patch by your flannel-clad, big-ass-boot wearing, grinning tomboy, is there, femmes? It’s one of those rare joys in life. M picked out 10 little tiny baby pumpkins, and each of us picked out one big one for carving at Halloween. The weather was perfect. A pinch too warm, in fact, but M remedied her woolly issues by taking a shard of glass off the floor of the antique shop yard and cutting off the sleeves of her shirt.

Do I need to say it?

I guess so.

H O T.

The teenage boys who were studying maths in between scaring the daylights out of total strangers asked us if we wanted it “really scary” or just “a little scary”, and of course I trilled “EXTRA S U P E R SCARY!” and we all walked through the wooden doors into total darkness, clinging to M.

We counted to fifteen as directed, and blew out poor M’s eardrums as we screamed our way through 1,000 square feet or so of perfectly hokey, old-fashioned haunted house horror.

In the petting zoo of RADNESS there were piglets, bunnies, lambs, goats, ducks, chickens, and of course, tiny human beings. One of the bunnies bit me three times. The llamas were off limits and the ponies too miniature for me to ride (though believe you me, I tried). I’ve never held a piglet before.

EVERYONE SHOULD HOLD A PIGLET.

It’s amazing. Check out my awesome piglet-bunny-chicken video, filmed by M, by clicking here!

FEMME: Levi’s skinny jeans, Full Tilt plaid shirt, vintage Gucci scarf, boots from Buffalo Exchange, vintage Dooney & Bourke All-Weather Leather bag.

TOMBOY: RSQ London jeans, Mossimo t-shirt, vintage Pendleton flannel shirt, Harley Davidson boots, leather cuff.

Said big-ass pumpkin, behind my head:

Meet one of Brooklyn’s finest femmes, kittens! Here’s the delightful Bevin Branlandingham of FemmeCast and Queer Fat Femme. She and I ran a little workshop at the Femme2010: No Restrictions conference last Friday morning. We met for the first time in June at her incredible Re/Dress & Size Queen event in Oakland, after becoming fast internet friends through our mutual love of fashion, all things femme, and involvement on our respective committees with the Femme Collective earlier this year.

Also, her tomboy friends have the cutest puppies, don’t you think?

Of course, her outfit rules. This is one LBD that refuses to be outdone, and the little tart hair clip was quite the cherry on top of her ensemble. Here’s her really impressive bio, since it says it way better than I could:

Bevin Branlandingham is the Host and Producer of FemmeCast: The Queer Fat Femme Podcast Guide to Life. She is a flamboyant femmecee, writer, drag king, burlesque and comedy performer. She is Co-Head Madam of the Femme Family, the New York Chapter of the Femme Mafia, on the steering committee for the Fat and Queer conference and the media committee for the Femme Conference. In 2008 Bevin received a Commendation from the Mayor of Jersey City for her work with the LGBT community. Her writing has been published in numerous periodicals and she has performed throughout North America. Her mission is to make the world a safe place for people to love themselves, regardless of their marginalizations. Her website (including blog, calendar of events and workshops) is found at QueerFatFemme.Com.

She also blogs at Butch-Femme.com and The Femme’s Guide to Absolutely Everything and performs throughout North America.

This has to be one of my most favorite collages ever. Adorable puppy? Check. Pretty, multi-talented femmes? Check. Dildo? Check. Fancy hair ornaments? Check. DONE AND DONE.

I need Bevin to chime in on her outfit particulars, but here are mine:

Dress: Calvin Klein
Shoes: MaxStudio
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Earrings: Vintage
Necklace: Culp Baubles
Feathered Hair Clip: Buffalo Exchange

Waiting for Rufus Wainwright. After the closing remarks at the conference, M fetched me from the hotel and we set out for Napa. It couldn’t have been a more perfect evening. The temperature was perfect, the light falling softly at sundown was perfect, dinner was outstanding and Rufus Wainwright was absolutely wonderful, as always. At one point during the show, M whispered to me “How is he even a real person? His albums sound so good, but then you hear him live up there and he’s somehow much, much better than all that!” and I nodded with my tear-streaked face.

He made corny Napa jokes and told a few stories between songs, and he played La Complainte de la butte and Memphis Skyline (two of my favorites). Zebulon undid me completely. His sister brought the petite onstage and they all sang together (well, the petite cooed), and it was really lovely. I cannot wait until he’s back in November with the SF Symphony for Five Shakespeare Sonnets.

I am going to go every single day of the 3-day series, come hell or high water.

There is only one day left in this year’s femme conference and I can scarcely believe it.

I am exhausted, I am inspired, I am giddy with all of the magical, wondrous, truly life-changing things that can and have occurred when you get a bunch of femmes together to do thangs. It’s as humbling as it is empowering, and I almost feel outside of my own involvement and contributions in helping to make it happen by being a committee member and presenter, as well as an enthusiastic participant. It’s surreal! Of course, I can’t say that every single moment of every day thus far has spoken to me or been poignant for me, but nobody promised me it would, and the bottom line is that the benefits have easily outweighed any of that.

I shan’t say anymore! The fine folks at Autostraddle have asked me to do a little FemmeCon recap and I need to cull my resources and reflections for that guest post. I will say that I wore this pretty little outfit today, and it was a smash. The ladies practically needed fainting couches when I told them it was a find at Buffalo Exchange on Valencia, and the dress itself is from a little Australian designer called Runaway Pony.

For those who are curious, my TechFemme workshop yesterday morning went very smoothly. There was a very special attendee present: keynote speaker, author and bona fide femme Jesus (and freshly crowned Miss Femme America) Kate Bornstein.

Y’all should follow the official Femme2010: No Restrictions hashtag on Twitter, if you want to. It’s #femme2010 and it’s pretty damn inspiring on its own.

I think over the past 72 hours I’ve only seen my girls for maybe 5-6 of those, and that’s been surprisingly hard on me! As a result, I decided to sit out tonight’s amazing Glitterati and Hella Gay events, since I went to Femmes On Fire and Friday Night Lights last night and there’s an incredible femme short film festival bright and early tomorrow morning that I cannot bear to miss. Chances are high I’ll regret this, but cuddling on the handsome one and telling the petite all about the conference has been really, really perfect.

Dress: Runaway Pony
Belt, Clutch: Vintage
Earrings: El Mexico
Boots: Rock n’ Rose
Watch: Guess

Here are just a few of the incredible individuals I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at the conference over the past few days. Really wonderful folks, all of them. I’m a lucky femme!

I’m so sick of hearing about San Francisco’s wintry summers. I’m so sick of feeling them. I trek downtown each day, then float a few dozen stories up into the sky where I watch the dull gray tendrils lap lackadaisically against the other skyscrapers in the fleeting pauses of my work, watch it all come lumbering over the gentle slopes of Nob and Russian Hills and swirl and settle quietly in the tides of the bay. In the dead center of July.

The tomboy gets into her little car, ambles down the freeway into Silicon Valley, and bemoans having left the house in a blazer because it’s 20 degrees warmer there, and the sun is shining, and you can’t see a lick of fog anywhere, not even if you squint as hard as you can and picture me pouting mightily from where I sit.

Today, I had to wear this shirt with a cardigan and a brocade coat with a vintage fur collar. It was very dreadful.

I remember when I told loved ones I was planning to vacation in New Orleans in the dead center of July eight or more years ago. They thought I was out of my fucking mind. They were very wrong. I loved the heat, I was delighted that my ice cream melted faster than I could eat it at 10AM, giddy about the thunderstorms that swept briefly in to curse you and left just as quickly (and the river frothing), I couldn’t wait until it cooled down in the wee hours of the morning (and even then only by a few scarcely detectable degrees), when it was safe to sit outside with your beignets and Au Laits at Cafe Du Monde before stumbling back to the hotel.

That’s a goddamn summer. Don’t even get me started on summers in Barcelona.

Tomboy: Seven jeans, Vox shoes, Volcom shirt, Banana Republic blazer, H&M tie. Bulleit bourbon, of course.
Femme: Skirt from the Painted Bird, suspenders from Buffalo Exchange (and made in Germany, of all places), boots by Bandolino, Truly Madly Deeply v-neck. Leggings from The Rack.

I had to wear this dress again as soon as possible, even if it was cold and I had to layer like my life depended on it. (There was a black cardigan under this denim jacket, too.) Our special edition Pride 2010 Cockblock handkerchiefs came in the mail! M was so excited. I got one, too, and they each came with goodies from Good Vibes, too. Hotsauce.

Dress by Fire LA, boots from Buffalo Exchange, thrifted belt, Cockblock handkerchief, Old Navy denim jacket, leggings from The Rack, earrings from the Global Exchange store.

Today I scored an amazing vest of House of Hengst. Prepare yourselves!

Damn this SF second coming of winter. It’s revolting! All I have to keep me warm is a tomboy, two pups and the Hot 100 list of real queer girls at Autostraddle. I suppose it’ll all have to do. All that and some thick leggings. Leggings.

Anyway, I wore this outfit to the post-fight party we attended on Saturday night. It’s a great little thrifted dress also written up here, topped by my snazzy little blazer and a sedate side ponytail. It was a hit! I got compliments from strangers in line at Mitchell’s Ice Cream (fetching a delicious Mexican chocolate ice cream cake for the guest of honor) and party-goers alike. I really, really wish I’d gotten a photograph of the Noam Chomsky tote bag this one girl had, it was kind of AMAZEBALLS.

I didn’t actually fall asleep in this stairwell. It was an early night. Want details, dear readers? OKEEDOKEE:

Dress, thrifted
Blazer, Paper Doll Clothing L.A.
Leggings, Nordstrom Rack
Shoes, Modcloth
Bag, Betsey Johnson
Belt, NO IDEA (maybe Buffalo Exchange)
Black Onyx Pendant, vintage

THE EYELASHES ARE ALL FRESH FIREBIRD + SUPERNOVA ACTION, YO.

Sometimes I really stick my head where it should not go.
Like into tiny puppy houses.

Did I mention that M might bring me some creamsicle kittens tomorrow? It’s true. She might.