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I am so excited about my Halloween costume.
I am so excited about my Halloween costume.
I am so excited about my Halloween costume.

I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME.

So excited that I don’t care if I was 100% right and my poor wookie pumpkin is already all shrivel-y and deflated like a dead, decaying wookie. (Plus, we’re going to a pumpkin-carving party tomorrow. Bygones.) I know it’s really mean of me to get all SKWEE about my epic costume and not tell y’all, but you’ll see soon enough.

Let’s change the subject, shall we? Here, look at my shiny hair. Let’s all just calm down a minute.

I threw this outfit on in a hurry this morning. I realized that I’ve packed all of my heels aready save two pairs of high-heeled boots – both brown. Femme fail! I love that it’s all serious grays and a plaid Brooks Bros. skirt, paired with some stompy boots. Here are the details:

Shirt: RVCA
Cardigan & Belt: H&M
Skirt: Brooks Brothers
Tights & Boots: Target
Pearls: Vintage

Right now at the FFAF household, here’s the news:

• The San Francisco Giants have indeed toasted Texas. Texas toast! So good, especially soaked with the big fat crocodile tears of the poor, poor Rangers. This town is going wacko. Also? We smoke weed here, apparently. Who knew?
• The registration packet for the petite’s new school is no thinner than 1.5″ thick (in triplicate) and includes a swatch of fabric so that parents can readily avoid the horrible mistake of purchasing uniforms in the WRONG SHADE OF KHAKI . I don’t know about you, but I’m sure relieved. (We owe her big time. Like Uggs big, and y’all know I fucking HATE Uggs.)
• The “big packing weekend” is upon us. It’s do-or-die time. We’re also selling a TON of furniture this weekend. Whee!
• We’re so sad about Mondo not winning Project Runway. What do you think? Gretchen’s such a bloody hag that it makes it hard to appreciate her clothes, which seem to me a meek, hipster-y acquiescence to the superiority that are Chloe’s Fall collections, but what do I know?

Fact: Don’t attempt to use sand dollars as skipping stones.
Fact: Don’t attempt to skip stones when a big wave is about to throw you off balance.
Fact: Don’t attempt to recreate the precarious water scene karate move thing from Karate Kid.
Fact: Don’t attempt the above especially when a big wave is about to throw you off balance whilst your wife grins behind a camera.

Actually? Scratch that. Attempt all of the above, you will have a tremendous and soaking wet day at the beach!

Fact: OMG, I used to have the biggest crush on him.

Tip: If you’re a tomboy type, leave your wallet in the car or in your bag. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! M still has sand in hers, I bet.

Fact: This dress is ancient now. Like five years old!
Fact: Twirling in a sand dune with 4.5″ wedge heels is hard.
Fact: Dizzily veering toward the edge to your sandy demise is not recommended.
Fact: If your loverbird tells you to lie down next to bees and dragonflies, you’d better listen.
Fact: It’s way easier to just sand there looking all bossy with your legs planted wide apart. Like so:

Dress: Nolita
Shoes: Dolce Vita
Ring: Vintage
Sunglasses: Kenneth Cole
Necklace: Isla Mujeres boutique
Background: Ocean Beach, San Francisco

Hello there, strangers. I’ve returned from paradise or, as it’s called, Isla Mujeres. Guess what else? I’m thirty years old today. How badly I’m wishing I was still on the birthday trip of a lifetime! It was incredible, y’all, we fell in love. My first time in Mexico and M’s first time to this part of Mexico did not disappoint – everyone was friendly and gracious, the island and seas surrounding it were tremendously pretty) and oh-so restorative for one’s mind and soul), our hotel was amazing – I could get used to being handed champagne in the lobby upon check-in, we discovered how peaceful and otherworldly snorkeling is (especially when it’s a private boat and tour of the coral reefs, without a soul bossing you into a life jacket or refusing to let you drink beer whilst hanging off starboard by one skinny, sunburned arm), we were tripping over adorable feral cats and pups and wild iguanas the entire time, I rode a scooter all over the island in a bikini with M holding onto me for dear life, we ate better than kings, even, and we were truly beside ourselves when we had to leave it all behind and come back home.

Last but not least? It’s, like, always happy hour there. I hope you enjoy the pics – I’ll try and slap together another FFAF post or two from the trip, but honestly, we lost ourselves there in the best way and I can’t promise anything but more of the below:

Our first morning! Fantastically warm, albeit a bit windy and overcast, but it cleared up by noon. Above, we’re hanging out on our balcony in between breakfast and the rest of the day’s journey via scooter to the southernmost tip of the island, where the national park, ruins, lighthouses, sculpture gardens and more await us.

Below is our arrival to the island and some, uh, evening shenanigans!

Last night, M & I went to a party at an aviation museum and the dress code was “business casual”. I realize that one might not consider sequins or an aviator cap meeting-appropriate, per se, but we felt the leeway was acceptable given the occasion (a party). It was awesome!

Life-sized models of the very first man-powered aircraft (successful or not) were laid out in all their rudimentary glory, all the way up to Boeing cockpits from the passenger jets of today. Of course, our favorites were the helicopters and airplanes from the 1940s and 1950s, and they had these amazing, fancily clad mannequins of yesteryear for a more genuine effect. Adorable.

We crashed every last flight simulator we got into – including an old hovercraft prototype – and it was just a lot of silly fun. Of course, M wore her vintage wings and leather aviator cap. (Poor thing fully expected to get a ride in a plane and I wanted to, too, alas.) Yes, in that photo above we are “flying”.

It was amazing to see miniatures of futuristic models, too, like the vertical landing and takeoff joint heavy lift rotorcraft:

In other news , holy macaroni and cheese, kittens, I got bangs! Soft, whispery, no-biggie bangs. I haven’t had truly serious bangs since early 2007, and they were VERY serious:

In short, too hard. Too much work, a bitch to keep up, grow out, etc. I loved them, but they totally traumatized me. I am not a girl who blow dries her hair. Curlers, sure. Curling irons I have down to a perfect science, but bangs this serious require rigorous styling and training almost constantly, which I am not for at this time. (Maybe later, though. I’m seriously considering a bob in the future. OK, jaw-length. Like in 2004, but modified for 2010.)

Let’s hope these are a bit easier to manage. I am rather fond of them!

ZOMG, THIS BELT THING! When I first saw it at modcloth.com, it kind of reminded me of a cross between a sweet, worn-in leather gun holster and the Zana Bayne leather harness Laia over at The Pop | Geometric Sleep wore so effortlessly awhile back. I will try wearing it as originally intended, but I love this idea – slinging it across one shoulder and packing the pouch with night-out essentials: ID, Besame’s darling and elegant lipstick bullets, blotting papers, cash. Period. I’m sure many femmes can agree: Sometimes not having to carry around a bag or purse or clutch or tote is freeing and happy, and not ALL dresses are made with – or are even practically made at all – pockets.

Plus, it’s inexpensive.

Plus, it’s real leather, which smells good and is super fun to wear in.

Plus, because I said so.

Also, I cannot wait to rock this scarf (also from modcloth.com) even as it warms up. It’s not quite sheer, but wafer-thin and moves nicely. I can see it dressing up a wifebeater, cutoff shorts and cowboy boots, I can see it giving a pop of color to a lightweight cotton tank dress, I can see it at Baker Beach with a 50s pinup swimsuit and some truly excellent shades. For now, it shall keep my neck warm, and prettily!

I’d talk about how abhorrent The Lovely Bones is, but I prefer to discuss pleasant things. Like the fact that we’ve all kicked off a three-day weekend. Like the fact that I came home to a cheeky tomboy with a gorgeous bouquet of blush roses just for me, and lasagna baking in the oven, and an array of tiny Haagen-Dazs cups of ice cream in the freezer, bottles of bubbly chilling in the fridge and fat, happy cinnamon rolls waiting to be baked in the morning for breakfast. Very pleasant things.

I’m going to curl up with my newest collection of locally penned shorts (Instant City, Issue No. 6, snagged at Gypsy Honeymoon in the Mission) in bed, with a brand new sparkling cocktail that is so, so good: splash of spiced pear vodka (ours is crafted by Hangar One, of course), splash of raspberry pink lemonade, topped with your sparkling beverage of choice. Not-too-sweet, perfectly crisp and refreshing!

CONFESSION: Impromptu FFAF photo shoots are the best. We were on our way to BART to catch Where The Wild Things Are downtown, when we passed this relatively empty laundromat. It was so much fun, right down to jumping into one of the carts, playing shooter games and the old-timey Soap Stop (below). I realize the key missing component is the fact that we were just passing through, not doing any actual laundry (which I abhor), but still. SUPERFUN.

I cried and cried and cried through not only the trailers (that Sandra Bullock one and the Baby(ies) documentary – have you seen or heard of it? – it’s about the first year of life for four babies being raised in four very different corners of the world; San Francisco, Mongolia, Nambia and Japan), but through a bunch of the scenes in the movie as well. It was so great. I loved it. Max was fantastic.

SCENT: I really want this Victoria’s Secret experiment to be over and done with. You know, just the other day I was recalling my past refusal to walk away from something until I was absolutely convinced I had exhausted every available option (and unavailable, for that matter) and how absurd, unnecessary and masochistic it was, and this experiment is giving me the nagging s(c)en(t)sation that old habits die hard. So, it’s much too late to undo today’s torture, but I cannot promise completion at this juncture, folks.

Without further ado, I give you Dream Angels Divine and Very Sexy Hot. The former is awful and harsh. If powder settled into crepe-y skin could be bottled and made into a WMD, Divine is it. Vile. VS Hot comes out with a few intriguing top notes – marigold, freesia, berry (note again the lack of specificity regarding type)- but never softens into something softer and more complex, it just stays sharp and not in a good way.