fitforafemme.com

It began innocently enough. We took a cab ride to a Peruvian restaurant in San Francisco’s Fillmore District to attend a dear friend’s bachelorette party. Our table was littered with carafes of delicious sangria, lots of glittery beads, cheeky bachelorette temporary tattoos, masquerade party masks and tiaras. (I got M to wear one Max-from-Where-the-Wild-Things-Are style, but she said she’d kill me dead if the photos ever saw the light of day, so keep dreaming.) Did you know that they made little hot pink party sashes that light up for brides-to-be? I did not.

Dinner was delicious and the blushing bride had no clue where the rest of the night was headed!

The wine bar we went to afterward greeted us with cheers, mostly from hapless men who quickly realized we were all lesbians. Many flutes were filled and filled again with a nice cava we’ve never tried before, and the delightful hostess of the party got us started on a series of sweet, touching and hilarious bachelorette-themed games, and even handed out fancy prizes to the winners. M & I both won a round, not that we’re ultra-competitive or anything.

Drunkity! Fast-forward a few hours and we’re up to our ears in gay and knee-deep in booze, having taxied over to the Castro at the bachelorette’s request. We danced a lot and drank a lot and partied like it was 2005 all over again. It was excellent.

I wore:

Red dress by Donna Ricco
Max Studio pumps
Emilie M. bag
Lipstick bullet pendants by Culp Baubles
Vintage earrings and swing coat

M wore:

Booth & Bruce glasses
Kenneth Cole dress shirt
Express slacks
Zara shoes

Signing off only a little bit creepily,

M & SBJ

Welcome to my Party On! Pants Off! outfit. I really just cannot imagine a gayer outfit utterly devoid of rainbows than this, kids. You’ve got your sequins and your stars and your crazy ruffles and lots of leg and your body glitter and a completely nonsensical pattern / paint-splattered motif. In gold. There are lipstick bullets around my neck and an actual bullet-sized lipstick tucked neatly away in the warmth of my cleavage, and of course it’s in an obscene shade of red also used to color my lips and ARE YOU CRAZY don’t even think my nail polish deviates from the exact same poppy red.

The breakdown, because heaven knows this was no easy task (especially when it was time to pee):

Romper, Brooklyn Flea
Star-shaped tights, Betsey Johnson
Cut-out moto pumps, Modcloth
Lipstick bullet necklace, Culp Baubles
Lipstick, Besame Cosmetics

I’m fairly certain this number will never see the light of day, and I’m okay with that. The tights have runs in them a mile long and I’m okay with that, too. I flailed around so very enthusiastically with the tomboy to a Grease medley that night that I toppled over a very full whiskey sour of mine, fresh from the bar, and I’m okay with that (even if it still hurts, a little). A friend of ours gifted me with a Midori-issue tank top that says “ALL NATURAL MELONS” across it. I bartered a pair of neon green Wayfarers for an epic jar with a handle on it, which M now guards with her life.

When midnight came and it was officially M’s birthday, we dutifully did tequila shots at the bar and I crawled around rather helpfully all over the Supper Club beds and we danced to that really dirty reggaetón song we both love, Gasolina. It was a spectacular night, and not wearing pants was a pretty big part of it. I’m hoping Ms. Jackson and Party Ben and co. can be convinced to hold pants-free parties at least once a month, because the vibe is genuinely special.

And before you bossies call me a total tease for not posting waist-down photos of the infamous bandage dress from Flourish, here you go:

MORE PRIDENESS COMING SOON!

This rain is SUPER messing with my nudie girl and / or bright coral Spring steez, yo. SERIOUSLY. It angers me. There’s a silk Kensie dress just hanging all limp and sad in my closet, UNWORN and longing for sunshine. (Like this, but so much better.) Today it poured and poured like my tears during the Lost finale on Sunday night, but I decided the following:

SUCK IT, MAN, I’M WEARING A TINY COTTON DRESS.

Also? Suede boots. And then whenever I had to go outside, I threw a raincoat on and jabbed the sky with my nautical H&M umbrella. So there.

Thursday: Hot.
Friday: I don’t remember.
Saturday: Sunny, cold.
Sunday: Sunny, windy, cold.
Monday: Shitty, overcast.
Tuesday: Rain, BS, delayed flights.
Wednesday: Isla Mujeres, please?

In case you’re wondering why it’s been six long days since my last post (which came, I might add, in a bit of a blog post blitzkrieg as inexplicable as Jupiter’s missing belt), we’ve been entertaining a lovely houseguest since Friday night. We’ve been very fancy. Flitting from this open house to that apartment showing, signing leases and dancing at lesbian MEGAparties like Mango and Les Beaux, discovering delightful new bourbons and making new friends, visiting cemeteries and attending dance recitals and good heavens, there might be more but I’m exhausted just typing it out. Plus, my neck hurts and it’s the tomboy’s fault. (Insert telling lesbian smirk here.) Bygones.

THERE IS SOME SERIOUS HAIR TOSSING BELOW. I WARNED YOU!

Last, but not least, one of my most beloved PJ Harvey numbers, which feels good on today:

PS. The morning after hair, per the comments section:

Hey! Remember the pics from my marching band meets pin-up post the other day? You’ll recognize most of it in this here outfit, where I swapped the vest and shorts out for a natty little Brooks Brothers pencil skirt to accommodate a wardrobe change from day to night, and ended up with a completely different look and feel.

This is more Blair Waldorf, less camp, though you’ll notice I couldn’t resist updating the bow headband with a red rhinestone pin shaped like a perfect red pout! The gays at The Apartment helped me pick it out. They are so sweet and awesome there. M & I had promised to meet some friends for a glass or two of peachy white sangria at this party later that same evening, and the wind had picked up as dusk fell, so I needed something a bit more substantial than a tiny pair of shorts!

Keep your eyes peeled for a special post over at Femme Fairy Godmother – a wee birdie mentioned that there’s a surprise coming in the next day or two!

I wanted nothing more than to accessorize with an actual trumpet or something yesterday. I just felt this whole marching band nerd meets pin-up girl vibe and that I really needed an instrument, specifically a shiny one. Two exciting things happened yesterday (well, three):

1. I was rather spectacularly hungover and deliciously sleep-deprived.
2. I woke up to being on Autostraddle’s most esteemed list of queer blogs to read RIGHT NOW and FREAKED OUT:
   

   “So basically what you’ve got here is a gorgeous woman in adorable outfits, and it’s a blog called Fit for a Femme. More specifically, you’ve got a gorgeous femme, SBJ, showcasing these hot f*cking boots or this perfect dress. And just when you think it can’t get any cuter, BAM there’s a photoshoot like this one with M in which they’re at the beach and omg I think she stole M’s hat and would you look at that mothereffing wool coat?! Stop it both of you STOP BEING SO LOVELY.”

1. Who wouldn’t freak out?! It’s insanely sweet, and wonderful news! Plus, the other blogs are amazing – we’re in such fantastic company! As a result, M & I celebrated with lunch at Regalito, one of our favorite places ever, a bit of window shopping at Therapy and The Apartment, and a trip to Good Vibes, where we ended the 10-year ban and grabbed a handful of porn, landed ourselves on the waiting list for one of the new VixSkin numbers (I can’t remember which one, honestly, IT’S JUST SO HARD TO KEEP TRACK, GUYS) and snagged a bottle of Swiss Navy (NSFW) lube, which was recommended by the lovely Madison Young over at the Sugarbutch Chronicles (NSFW) last week. I loved the name and was prepared to buy some for that reason alone – C’mon, Swiss Navy? RADSAUCE – and it’s actually really fantastic. FFAF-endorsed, y’all. Getchusome.

All in all, a really spectacular Sunday and I just want to heartily welcome any newcomers and again express how completely thankful Fit For A Femme is for your support and love and page views.

Also? Just to be bossy, I’m going to insist that y’all head over to Facebook and LIKE us there, too. XO!

HELLO, KITTENS!

How the hell are you? It’s been a week! A whole week!

Before anything else: Thank you for voting for Fit For A Femme, even if we didn’t win a Lezzy Award this year, we stood up there with the big dogs and it was totally awesomesauce, and I lovelovelove y’all for voting day in and day out with all your might.

So, I got this mini whilst thrifting for, like, $2, NWT. It makes for a great casual, relaxed look, but where the hell does The Gap get off charging $50 for a tiny denim miniskirt? Not that it isn’t great. It is. It’s just that I wouldn’t dream of wearing this without leggings on underneath. It’s SCANDALOUSLY short. And tiny. And not worth that crazy sticker price, which makes finding it for next to nothing that much sweeter. I went BANANAS thrifting last week. It was a month-end clearance sale, and I got 15 super awesome pieces – from a beautiful azure blue sunhat with the most dramatic brim to an armful of calico sundresses for Spring to a soft chestnut brown shrunken velvet blazer (it screams equestrian) – for just under $35 and in less than 1.25 hours. SCORE. Shopping = femme sports.

What else? Oh, you know, not much. I completed my utterly life-changing self-defense training on Sunday, and new bruises are STILL popping up all over my body. Badges of honor, my instructor calls them. I had the privilege of fighting FIVE fights at my graduation ceremony (with M and the petite there to support and cheer me on), instead of the standard three. DO NOT MESS, Y’ALL.

I was just named a member of the Femme Collective, which is gearing up for Femme2010: No Restrictions this August. Femmes, mark your calendars (and reserve your spot on the infamous Skinny + M sofabed now if you’re an out-of-towner)! Speaking of M, she and I are headed across the Bay Bridge next week for a meeting with other legally wed California couples to discuss next steps as powerful advocates for marriage equality, which I’m really excited about. Writing checks and being visible and all that is well and good, but I never feel like I’m doing enough unless I’m doing.

I will be a busy girl. A busy, happy, girly girl!

Also, we just ordered her a pair of these dapper new shoes:

CONFESSION: Oh, oh, oh. Where to begin? We’ve moved, the dust settles slowly but surely, work is thrilling but overwhelming at times, the tomboy is happy, the petite is happy, the pups are happy. I am happy! The sunroom has turned into storage and an awesome little puppy pen but I have designs on it for more. The built-ins hold all of the books (we purged 2/3 of them, after all), so the big handsome black bookcase has become The Beast Redux. We also somehow found me a matching shabby chic dresser and vanity and I’ll post pics once the bedroom no longer looks like perhaps a small Canadian band just moved in or something. We also found the creepiest, most fantastic black birdcage lamp, a mug tree, old-fashioned hand mixer and the best, best, best part about ALL OF IT? Under $80. All of it, y’all, including the dresser and vanity, which are in pristine condition.

There has got to be some way for me to make a living doing this.

In the meantime, M & I are thoroughly enjoying her much shortened commute and talking walks to explore our fantastic neighborhood(s). Just yesterday I bought freshly made ravioli and mushroom marinara from Lucca’s, down the street. We’ve yet to decide which of the 84,000 Mexican markets we like best. We’ve had excellent tapas, pizza, Chinese. There are two places to let the dogs romp around in within walking distance. We’re totally getting fucking mopeds. The birds sing, butterflies literally fly all around me whenever I’m in the park and everywhere I look I’m inspired to grow flowers and things. There are a few other little girls who play out on our block. It’s brilliant, every last bit of it. Life is very good indeed in FFAF-land!