fitforafemme.com

I braved the drizzle to nail this FFAF post today, you guys! Drizzle and a steep, steep grade, not to mention this lingering head cold. Cloud cover mutes the otherwise dreamy view of the bay in the background, but maybe you can make it out just a little bit. When I took out my gloves to put them on this afternoon, I noticed a faint emerald green print on the inside. Upon closer inspection, the left glove shows the no. 7, and Lionel Le Grand beneath it. Inside of the right, Made In France Expressly for I. Magnin & Co.! I don’t know how I missed that before. I found them at an old Lutheran thrift shop in the East Bay, of all places. Years ago.

Anyway, this magical, high-waisted, uber-tight, red hot miniskirt. Unfortunately, it’s all sold out at modcloth.com, but I love it. They had another of its kind – the Da Vinci skirt – in a pretty purple shade, but that’s all gone, too! Next time I wear it, I’ll try more color, but I couldn’t help but femme fatale it up a bit for the first go-r0und.

CONFESSION: Check-out at Hotel Vertigo. Super dreamy lobby. You can read more about it here, if you’d like. We are up and at ‘em on approximately 4-5 hrs. of sleep and absolutely pining for donuts and coffee. We weren’t sure how nightmarish the Love Parade malarkey would be, so we just dashed out of there right before noon and headed to our favorite Noe Valley donut shop. They have Peerless coffee there! A plus. Let’s see if you can guess what I’m thinking as I gaze fondly down upon that polished, gorgeous hunk of wood.

CONFESSION: It was so Fall on this day! Monday, to be exact. I used to loathe the grey + ivory combination, but I am for it this season, especially if you swap the predictable dash of mustard with a nice, predictable and lush rose instead. Ideally, in some sort of ridiculously lavish, ruffled suede. Mm. I guess I’m sort of a moron for not throwing on my pink posie Tulle coat on over this. Next time!

CONFESSION: We discovered that M hates shooting at night and Halloween today. I know, right? OK, so night shooting is HARD and a pain in the ass, but hating Halloween? I think I should remind her about candy corn and slutty costumes bonding with loved ones in a creepy way. In any case, I can’t let her hate Halloween until we’ve dressed up as Moroccan Tranny Patsy and Edina first. It’s our dream! I had fun on the night shoot; we explored the creepy alley across the street and I pretended to be scary and chased kittens around.

NOTE: I gave y’all a three-for-one because even though they were different pairs of jeans, they were still jeans. Never fear (esp. not you, H), I had heels on in both of the above and a brand spankin’ new pair of hella fierce Betsey Johnson tights that are dying to debut themselves.

QUERY: An extremely lovely and devoted reader recently wondered if I might do a Q & A here at FFAF, and you know what I thought? I thought I would, if you’d like. Feel free to send burning questions to fitforafemme@gmail.com and I’ll answer enthusiastically and in bulk to the best of my ability!

Confession: Too many to list. I will start by explaining this outfit. M, H and I all decided that in the battle of all-girl zombie roller derby (too early, high cover charges, no dancing) vs. Cockblock (a party full of moody lesbians and too many foul-smelling straight boys, “New Lesbo” music) vs. Cockfight (a party full of pleasant, chatty homos wearing nice cologne and the promise of 80smashupelectroJOCKSTRAPjams), there was a clear winner.

The dress code called for locker room attire. We did our best. I refused to wear sneakers out dancing. I have boundaries, you know. But I did wear a whistle (which was used mightily throughout the night on racist, sexist, non-PC and other derogatory comments) and a wristband.

Other items of note:

• On the way into the city, we listened to Fleetwood Mac on cassette. CASSETTE! M was PUMPED.
• I left a voicemail for a stranger named “Evan” re: fine whiskeys at the request of a very excited Indian gay
• Everyone we met has worked on one cycle or another of ANTM
• The only person we met that we didn’t like was Kenny G, because he kept dissing “rude immigrant and/or ‘illegals’ lesbians” and the only reason he didn’t get a spiked heel through his balls is b/c his date begged me not to destroy his only chance at sex that night
• Gays we met and loved sided with us against Kenny G, making hilarious saxaphone noises in his direction
• Which forced Kenny G to leave the premises immediately
• We all got awesome t-shirts during the midnight giveaway
• All the gays kept treating me like some very fragile and cute little doll
• One gay had on a real bowtie and pink socks, and another had little elephant socks
• Vegan gays were told to “just give up” on convincing us of their cause; I hissed to H “Don’t tell them I wear fur, god damn it!” because they were v. sweet and nice
• This one’s for Rojo: The DJ played 2 seconds of Ready For The Floor by Hot Chip, and I got so excited, but then he stopped it. H blames this and other things on the iPhone generation aka “The Downfall of Civilization.” (I will remedy this by playing it tomorrow night at LBF Mondays at the Glas Kat!)

When: Wednesday, Jan. 28th, 2009.

What: Black cotton yoga pants, racerback cotton tank by Chicks On Speed, both by H&M. Vintage black lace bra. Trainers by New Balance.

Confession: I told y’all bitches I would post my stupid gym outfit one day! I mean, it’s not stupid, it’s just fine I suppose, but it’s my gym outfit, for fuck’s sake! I even scrounged up a weight thingee for y’all. I was waiting for M to get home, very patiently like a very good and patient kitten, so I figured it was just as good a time as any to show you.

Would you like to see our awesome workout chart? Yes, you do. I can tell. M made one for each of us.

Peep the insanity:

My wife is fucken dreamy. It’s true.