fitforafemme.com

Confession: OK, OK. I didn’t really smoke inside of the loft, settle down. That’s so against the law. The rules. You know. ALRIGHT, SO IT WAS ONE MEASLY DRAG, but it was totally by accident, I swear to God. I was channeling Monica Bellucci in Malena (or maybe Joan Holloway from Mad Men, does it really matter which?) and got a little carried away. The entire unsmoked cigarette is in the trash under my sink if you don’t believe me. Where was M? At her monthly poker game, winning us some monies, bless her heart (she always wins). If it’s of any consolation, I sat through 17 Again this afternoon at the movies (yes, with that Zac Efron douche), eating free popcorn and squeezing some joy from the sad 80s references spattered like roadkill throughout the movie. I also overcame great technological odds and mastered my newfangled new special DJ box thingee all by myself before lunchtime, so there!

PS. Yes, I know it’s very bad and naughty, but to be perfectly honest I can’t remember the last time I smoked a cigarette the whole way through, much less several in a day. It very seldomly happens anymore!

When: Saturday, October 18th, 2008.

Femme What: Halter dress by Poleci, patent pumps by Enzo Angiolini.

Femme Confession: Firstly, I apologize profusely for the lack of posts. I’ve been suffering from an especially vile hybrid of plane-internet flu disease post-Memphis. I’ve been miserable, but y’all will be relieved to hear that tonight I am back to half-watching UFC (Go Silva!) with the tomboy and drinking cava cocktails. Hurrah! The femme is back!

Now, for the reknowned Panda wedding. It was nothing less than amazing. Even DJ equipment malfunctions and freezing Memphis cold couldn’t prevent the awesomeness. (You think I’m joking? I was shivering so hard it knocked the champagne right out of my glass!) While the pandas slept (or tried to sleep), the ceremony was spectacular, the Asian-Cajun fusion buffet perfect, and the amazing bamboo wedding cake lovely. The BCPs seriously brought it on the dance floor, much to the delight of various aunts and one very enthusiastic grandmother. The evening ended with our group taking over the zoo tram mic and singing the animals to sleep with “We Are The World”, “Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog” and, as ever, “Rocky Top.” Thank heavens I found fancy DJ software to mix up my intracately chosen playlists, because I got to shimmy and shake with all my fancy friends, and of course, the tomboy.

Note: We all got the cops called on us at the Memphis Doubletree (it was nothing), thoroughly abused the glass elevators, visited BB King’s on Beale St. where M flirted with Kimberly Locke, ate some pretty good BBQ and oohed and aahed at all the well-behaved puppies on the horse-drawn carriages lined up downtown.

Tomboy What: Grey corduroy suit and black shirt from Express Men. Silver ascot from www.dress-better.com. Ok, maybe the ascot was a little bit much!

Tomboy Confession: We were in town for a panda wedding and here are some things I did not expect: Memphis to be colder than San Francisco, difficulty finding clove cigarettes, difficulty finding good bourbon, no choices for BBQ sides! Coleslaw is not a side. It is a side-of-a-side. The thing everyone pushes off their plate to make room for real food. Mashed potatoes are a side, stuffing is a side, or at least some steak fries?! Don’t even ask about breakfast.

Since the femme and I were all fancied-up we decided to go to a bar and try to get some proper bourbon (no liquor stores either, Memphis?!). We were served Knob Creek @ BB King’s (which is KENTUCKY BOURBON, wtf?!), but at least we got to see a good Memphis band do a really good cover of a U2 song, and afterward we went back to the hotel room to eat powdered donuts and drink Corona with the rest of the wedding party. I made my Corona green with some lime Sweet Tarts. I had no lime and improvised!

When: Monday, Sept. 29th, 2008.

What: Silk blouse by Chelsea Flower (I recently discovered them and love their pretty, floaty tops and dresses. Find your own here or here!). Purple velvet tiered skirt with embroidered flowers by BCBG Max Azria. Belt from modcloth.com and hot pink pumps by Chinese Laundry.

Confession: I had total gay arm in the photo with my pretty chestnut leather Hobo Int’l clutch. Anyway, here it is. The gay arm and the clutch! Pretty, right? The clutch, I mean. Not the unfortunate positioning of my hand. I blame all of this on Mad Men. I noticed it earlier this evening when I was buzzing myself into the building. “Petite,” I said, “is my hand always like this?” She glanced at it and started giggling maniacally, but eventually she said no. See? TOTES BIRDIE’S FAULT.

Speaking of, she is kind of bad ass, so YES PLEASE:

Here are partial photos of the Badgley Mischka dress I have decided to reject as a candidate to the grand old soirree coming up in a few weeks. I am DJing a dear friend’s wedding. Of course, I need a dress that is both flattering and very comfortable. This one was lovely, but the winner was lovelier! It just wasn’t meant to be.

Besides, I’ve already got the perfect shoes to go with the winner! (Alas, I am in dire need of the perfect strappy, elegant silver heels. Suggestions?)