fitforafemme.com

When: Sat., December 13th, 2008.

What: Brown turtleneck by Nine West, royal blue cropped linen jacket by Persaman NYC, cider corduroy pants from Victoria’s Secret. Boots by Donald J. Pliner and trench coat by Do & Be. Hat from The Hat Guys in downtown Oakland.

Scent: Burberry London. Jesus Christ, who makes their perfume? They need a good slap. This went on harshly and dried down to something sweet and a notch of intensity away from being…offensive, almost. It’s just nothing special, and nothing good, even. it barely lasted 3-4 hrs.! I wonder if this is what laziness smells like? The notes: Clementine, Honeysuckle, English Garden Rose, Tiare Flower, Jasmine, Peony, Veil of Musks, Indian Sandalwood, Patchouli.

Also? I really hope to review something tomorrow that I actually enjoy.

Confession: We got our Christmas tree tonight! It’s about the same height as the petite and we love it. We get Delancey Street trees because it’s good and they are all sustainably farmed / organic, what have you. After dinner, we’ll get the lights on and I’ll make a fresh batch of shortbread and M will make some homemade Mexican hot chocolate and we’ll all decorate the tree while carols play merrily in the background! It’s never too late for some serious (Charlie Brown) Christmas spirit!

When: Thanksgiving Day, 2008.

Femme What: Sweater dress by Dolce, green belted trench by Do & Be, brown chevron tights from Old Navy. Skinny brown belt by Elie Tahari, olive green knit socks by some fancy Italians (I can’t remember the brand, sob) and Donald J. Pliner boots. For the trek to the actual river, I wore my awesome “hiking” boots from El Mexico. They are the only boots, aside from my Noconas, that haven’t got a 4″ min. heel!

Femme Scent: Serge Lutens Chêne, of course.

Femme Confession: I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday weekend. My top three thanks, for the record: My precious girls. My resilient health, while it lasts. The dearest, most clever, loyal and affectionate friends a girl could wish for.

Tomboy What: Awesome bear sweater from Express, shirt from Banana Republic (with vintage fleur-de-lys cuff links – a bit much, I KNOW), brown label jeans from Lounge, and brown boots from Harley-Davidson.

Tomboy Confession: I started the day with a completely different outfit: black slacks, a black blazer and the same green shirt (silver and black griffin cuff links from Ben Sherman instead of gold fleur-de-lys ones) and black boots. I only changed because my black boots are too faggy, they provide absolutely no traction! Since the trek down to the river is the absolute highlight of my dogs’ lives, I changed into something more “outdoorsy.”

Second Tomboy Confession: I ate about 100 grapes from the vines to and from the river!

When: Wednesday, Nov. 19th, 2008.

What: Pretty chrysanthemum print wrap dress by BCBG Max Azria, with black tights and dark brown socks layered under my Donald J. Pliner boots. Vintage onyx pendant, feathered headband from Target. I really think the new coat at modcloth.com would be cute over this, in a “more is more” kind of way:

Scent: Today was an Agent Provocateur day. Hopefully, we all know the brand. It’s the classic scent, described as “a modern classic combining saffron oil from India, Egyptian Jasmine and Vetivert from Haiti amongst other exotic elements.” It’s nice enough. When I first received it, I didn’t quite get enough sexy from it, but it’s definitely not sugary sweet. There is that. (Things that aren’t “supposed” to get sweet or powdery often become that way as a result of some cursed skin chemistry of mine.) It goes on a bit sharply, but perhaps the jasmine smooths it out and makes it the scent equivalent of a sexy, dirty look across a crowded room. Not hostile, but not very nice, either.

Confession: This says it all for today:

When: Saturday, November 1st, 2008.

What: Dry aged denim by James James, vintage t-shirt with geese by Levi’s, cropped corduroy moto jacket by Abercrombie & Fitch. Charcoal scarf from Old San Juan boutique, suede Cerulific bag from modcloth.com and bronze boots by Donald J. Pliner.

Confession: The sky has buried itself in clouds and finally, finally, it’s begun to rain in earnest. I am looking out at a monochrome gray, wet sky that is darkening rapidly and it’s very, very happy. M & I slept in this morning (I had the filthiest, longest sex dream ever) and had a mimosa brunch at the beloved Godspeed, which was good for my heart today. M was worried it was too soon, but really, it was just right.

PS. This is fun:

When: Friday, October 10th, 2008.

What: Tailored women’s shirt by Thomas Pink, skinny jeans from Zara, vintage scarf. Brown boots from Donald J. Pliner and brown suede tote bag from Banana Republic. Feather headband from Target and skull-and-pearls necklace from Betsey Johnson.

Confession: It took appx. five minutes to wrangle my ass into these jeans this morning. Maybe that should tell me something, but fuck it. Today felt like November, at last, and I needed these boots to feel it. These jeans go in these boots, period. The chill.

I listened to Louis XIV’s Air Traffic Control (go on, listen, it might surprise you) and The Cure’s Cut Here about 3 dozen times each and I made this:

Beauty soothes while love heals when the insanity of happenstance destroys. (LB)

Norton, I miss you. Earlier this week I said that life was cruel and lovely. I figured if anything was strong enough to carry so many memories and so much sadness and all the unanswered questions all at once, it would be my sturdy old Remington typewriter. (If I had a bike, I’d stick typewriter parts in there somewhere.) The femme has lost a friend. One week has passed.

How I made it through the day:

B: It changes everything forever but only in that you are a diamond and now one of your facets is deeply altered. It’s not an imperfection, but it’s such a change…Oh, life. I heart your crying, SBJ. It’s so brave.

SBJ: Do you? I suppose it is. It’s not as though it can be helped, though, I don’t think.

B: It is brave, and it’s important that you know that. There will come a day when there is another friend, and you will remember this pain and decide whether or not to be this brave again or to turn away from it, even incrementally. That is when you get to be even more brave and howl in pain until you once more stop, that facet deepened, your wisdom layered again. Even though you know how very, very bad it’s going to be, you must always scream and cry against the loss. It’s going to be one of the cornerstones of staying Skinny Bone Jones: your heart – none of it – can be allowed to turn to stone or wood. People have already tried, like your father, and you were stronger then – and you are stronger now. I have faith that you will go to your grave with a heart that rages and loves with purity, and not a heart with a cave at the back where cold things lie unattended.