Did somebody order a party in a box? Booze, snacks, citrus, mixers, ice…anyone?

This is going to be a carefree, to-the-point post, considering the fact that I am on a plane to Boston from San Francisco and ever so slightly buzzed from a few friendly  mimosas. I guess you could call this a companion post, as it picks up with the tomboy where the last post left off – same day, same round of festivities with friends, a lot more masculine. Welcome to M’s “Did somebody say ‘brunch’?” ensemble.

She takes a pair of khakis from Men’s Express and makes them all kinds of handsome, and as far away from the dull, lazy Silicon Valley stereotype as a person could get, I think, by pairing them with an Elie Tahari dress shirt (a soft, bluish grey) and cardigan bought new from Crossroads – she can’t remember whatever obscure brand it is, but she found it at their College Ave. location and wishes she’d snagged the grey version as well!

All brought together by a haphazard, undone bow tie (of course, it didn’t start that way, but you know us…plus, a lovely member of our group felt under-dressed, so being a gentlemen, she graciously undid it on the spot to help her feel more at ease). No idea where this bow tie came from, btw. We’ve racked our brains and not much can be done about it, as we are 36,792 feet in the air. Whomp.

The shoes are from Aldo and this was their last hurrah, actually, she’s currently eyeing a pair from Mr. B’s Gentlemen’s Boutique, in case any of you dear readers have words on their quality and whatnot – apparently there are three shops in Boston where we can find them (compared to just two in SF). You’ll recognize her Dior Homme glasses, although soon I imagine you’ll be seeing her new prescription pair of Ray-Ban Cockpit sunglasses.

That’s it! And just for fun, some mushy loverbird photos at Jack London Square, taking by Autostraddle’s fearless leader herself, the incredibly talented Riese!

We’ll keep you posted on our New England house-hunting trip, kiddos! Hopefully, there will be time to sneak in a few shoots.

XOXO,
FFAF

Hey, y’all! I wanted to trot out my new bag and a fabulously floppy hat for these crisp, sunny days we’ve been having lately, so I threw on a reliably pretty vintage dress in a neutral print, some tights and a pair of peep-toed shoes that took the look to a fun, sassy level. Also, we found a massive dead tree branch on our little walkabout! YAH!

You might find it amusing to know that I first tried to sit on that smaller branch I’m leaning on up there. It broke after about 2 seconds and I fell right on my ass in a big pile of dead leaves, while M had herself a good bellyaching laugh in the safety of the manicured green lawn you can’t see. You can see where it disappears below, leaving only a jagged stub behind. I managed to recover…

I’m trying to think of what’s new since I last posted!

• lovely visits from friends at home – one involved baking shortbread and another very in-depth lessons in eyeliner!
• football madness – since I was raised on the 49ers, the NFC Championship Game was a BFD – sadly, we lost
• finished reading Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex for book club (not for the faint-hearted)
• began reading The Faster I Walk, The Smaller I Get, written by a Norwegian author and given to me by M
• attended my sweet cousin’s delightful baby shower sans tomboy, only to find the soiree dotted with them after all!
• dove into a new bottle of perfume, Crystal Noir from Versace – but more on that later
• received copies of Luca Turin’s perfume guides as well as After Claude, which is deliciously mean (so I hear) – can’t wait!

So, I said I was going to get back into the business of discussing perfumes soon and here we are. This newest bottle of Versace Crystal Noir was a Christmas gift from the tomboy, more or less. (She originally bought me a bottle of Bright Crystal, which she’d already done before and somehow forgot. I’d been admiring it from afar and so handily swapped Bright for Noir and called it a day!)

First things first, I love the absurdly dark, heavy, gaudy bottle. It looks fantastic on my perfume tray, lurking moodily among slender Kenzo Amour or the austere Chanel No. 5  and Serge Lutens Chene, towering over a suddenly wan-looking bottle of Flowerbomb (which is of course shaped like a crystal grenade). Its contents are another story entirely.

Perfumes: The A-Z Guide, says that Donatella Versace provided creative direction for this scent, and proceeds to dismiss it as a “trashy white floral” (an improvement, believe it or not, upon Bright Crystal’s two-word assessment: “hideously screechy” – ouch!). The notes are gardenia and tuberose, as well as amber. Out of the bottle, I suppose the florals do exit the vehicle with a somewhat jarring crotch shot, teeter a bit, and then – at least with my skin – hit their stride on the drydown, which becomes a wonderfully creamy, soft dusty musk. A hint sweet. Folks are split on this – either it’s bug spray or bombshell mystique, but to me it’s like snuggling up to the tomboy in a fancy dress, murmuring dreamily while half-filled glasses of champagne sit neglected on the bedside table, sunrise teasing the sky lighter by the second. A cozy, familiar sort of ravishing. Lovely especially in cold weather.

Do tell me if you’ve got new loves in the fragrance world, I want to hear all about them!

Dress: Vintage
Tights: Hue
Shoes & Belt: Elie Tahari
Bag: Cynthia Rowley
Hat: Kathy Jeanne
Earrings: Silver Crane Sterling
Thorned Cuff: Made Her Think

I’m sitting here writing up this old blog post and M is playing Red Dead Redemption, which has raised my eyebrow in a disapproving manner on more than one occasion, I’ll have you know. She is determined to beat one more game before the end of year, given the fact that she’ll have had her PS3 for six months and will only have beaten one measly game (with MY help, thank you very much also WE MISS YOU LOST PLANET II). Too bad all the tomboys who’d play with her live in such far-flung places as SLC and Boston.

Did I not tell you that this scarf matches my dress in a borderline creepy way? In case you missed it from my other post, her mama knitted all three of us a beautiful scarf, just because. The petite’s was bright red, mine was chartreuse, and this is M’s! I have the feeling we’ll all be playing musical scarves this winter. They’re all fabulous. I lucked out because Grandma Medina also knitted me a lovely burnt orange scarf as well, also chenille. Hooray!

I never would have pegged M to pluck a GOLDENROD wool sweater off the rack at H&M, but she sure did, and it ended up being absolutely perfect with this vintage Salvatore Ferragamo tie, with the little lions and regal bugles. She paired them with an Elie Tahari dress shirt, Zara slacks and her trusty Asos brogues. (The belt is also from H&M.)

We hope y’all liked these Turkey Day photos as much as we do, and that your leftovers lasted longer than ours did (they were all gone by Sunday). I am swinging by my little brother’s office tomorrow to drop off his phone – silly fool left it in my car on the way home Thursday night – and one of our pumpkin cheesecakes, because we do NOT need to eat all three by ourselves. In other news, I was tickled pink to find the latest issue of Horse Illustrated (I didn’t even know such a thing existed) in my mailbox, an early Christmas gift from my folks! So sweet!

I also think I’ve settled on some nice DIY gifts for folks come Christmastime: Grandma Jones’s fresh-baked shortbread, and homemade bourbon caramel sauce and spiced pear-infused vodka. One year the petite and I also made our own wrapping paper, with some rad shaped sponges, beautiful paints, plain brown wrapping paper – and glitter, of course! I’d love to do that again, too. Do you guys ever do homemade or DIY presents? I wanna hear all about ‘em!

Here’s a few more of the two of us goofin’ around:

F A N C Y.

I had a lot of feelings about wearing this dress (100% raw vintage silk, can we talk?) to a filthy music festival in dusty old Golden Gate Park, let me tell you. Even M had feelings about it. But you know what? WHEN ELSE, DAMN IT? What myriad other days has this wanker San Francisco summer presented me with, days that scream “Go on, child, wear head-to-toe silk if you like, let this breeze ruffle the hem, it’s the summer of love, let your curls all fall down, I adore you”? That would be basically none. Carpe diem, kittens, and trust that I worked this in all my backstage glory.

Nevermind the girls sitting in the hut behind me, they were just taking refuge from the late morning breeze to roll some joints. “Wait, there’s people in there,” M whispered when I started to prance on over. “So what,” I sighed, and our friend was all, “They can leave if they don’t like it.” I was real sweet though, I warned them that I was just taking a few photos and made sure they didn’t mind. They had a lot of weed. I’m pretty sure I could have pissed on the side of it and they wouldn’t have noticed, anyway. KIDS THESE DAYS, and their substances.

Long story short, I felt that it was the third and final day of the festival, the sun was shining, and the dress and I would both survive. I was right! Did I tell you that Vanessa Hudgens (of HSM fame) was there on Saturday? We saw her during The Arctic Monkeys (I now own two of their albums, by the way), looking surly but cute, and wearing a spirit hood and a dress that definitely hadn’t survived the day. Fringe. Such a shame. We also saw a giddy, rugged-looking KAREV (Grey’s Anatomy, Justin Chambers, ringing any bells?) rushing out of the VIP area on Sunday night.

We started the day early with a round of coffees and fresh baked croissants courtesy of one kind Canadian, and got to the park in time to see Charles Bradley, who after sixty years of life is just now hitting his stride as an incredible soul singer. It was a wonderful, wonderful way to start off a glorious Sunday. We headed to Sutro to make sure we were nice and early for the tUnE-yArDs, who drew an insanely huge crowd for so early in the day, and didn’t disappoint fans (and certainly made new ones).

We meant to catch Latryx and Lyrics Born / Lateef, but somehow ended up taking a very long lunch (Korean tacos and pulled pork sandwiches from Maverick) with a detour back to VIP sanctuary, and didn’t end up back at Sutro until Julieta Venegas, who brought the lovely and talented Ana Tijoux onstage with her for a song or two. Determined to secure our excellent spot up close and stage left for Beirut, we ended up warding off a potential fence-climber during Little Dragon’s mostly yawn-worthy (yeah, I said it) set, and just relaxed and drank and told stories while I watched the clock for 6:50PM to roll around.

I don’t know how to describe the way I feel about Beirut’s music. It sounds the way love feels. To me. There are many ways to love, many kinds of love to love, there are myriad themes on love and there are love’s terrific and terrible highs and lows, and there they are, in every heartbreaking, beautiful note they play.

There was a moment, before they started but after Little Dragon ended, when the crowd surged something awful and nothing felt right, and I actually considered leaving. I’ve never seen Beirut live and if it wasn’t going to be perfect then I didn’t want it at all. Then something magical happened.

A backstage bracelet was slipped onto my wrist and I wandered away from our little group, was granted access to go behind the security guy policing the gate, and walked around the side of the stage and right smack into Beirut. They’d been forming some kind of pre-show circle, literally moments from taking the stage, and I turned a blind corner into the middle of them all huddled under the massive stage beams. For a split second they stood around me before some awkward shuffling around to let me through, and I stood there sort of dumbfounded but thankfully silent, and completely unable to believe my eyes. Sure, it’s a wee bit silly and kind of fangirl, but for a beat my little world stood serenely still.

Eventually I made my way backstage while they were playing, and I waved to M in the crowd (she saw me right away and I could see her grinning and waving back, pointing so our friends could see, too). How could the show be anything less than perfect after that?

I only stayed backstage for a few songs, because I couldn’t bear not having M right next to me for it, but I was able to snap some pics. Look at that sweet face singing his tender heart out! Lucky for us, they’ll be back in October, and I can’t wait to see them again.

Dress: Winter Kate
Leather: Elie Tahari
Bag: Freebird by The Sak
Necklace: Mariele Ivy
Silver Cuff: Made Her Think
Earrings: Asos
Shades: Ray-Bans
Boots: Nine West

Love,

FFAF

 Backstage awesomeness*! ZOMG!
*This is basically the only photo (and there are a few) from backstage where you can’t tell I’m all teary-eyed** and delirious.
**If you think that’s bad, you should see me at a Stars show. I am inconsolable.

Last night after tasty cocktails and fried chicken at Pican, we saw Bright Eyes perform at the beautiful old Fox Theater in downtown Oakland. It was our first time at the venue, though it’s been open for a year or more, at least. Maybe two, who can say? For all its opulence and lavish tucks and corners, the most striking thing for me was this immense wall of ancient switches and levers in the Den, the bar and lounge inside of the Fox, some lit up, most not. M was shocked that I didn’t fuss with them, but I was so completely in awe that I instantly backed away from it, distrustful of my ability to let them be.

Conor was beautiful, the set was incredible, I could have fallen asleep in my own tears and M’s arms with Road to Joy crashing all around me forever, I really could have. I don’t know how he manages to appear more fragile and delicate and marvelous with time, but bless his sweet, awful bleeding heart.

PS. The bangs are back. I couldn’t stand it and then there’s the Boston wedding and that dress which insists, insists, on one last go of it. Damn it. When something that good wants one last go of it, what are you going to do? You’re going to sigh in defeat, snatch the closest pair of scissors, shut your wide eyes and pray to Dolly. (And then the next day you will march your homo ass to the closest, most reputable salon and make them clean up the mess you’ve made of things.) That’s that, then, isn’t it?

I am really, really happy with all of the lovely comments from my last post! It was brilliant to hear who’s from where and what’s unique and rad about where you’re from. If you haven’t seen them, pop over and weigh in or just peruse. Since then we’ve had some ridiculous, short-lived rain and then it was back to the low 60s. We’re slowly but steadily creeping into Spring. It was chilly the night of the show, so I paired some heavy duty tights with this skirt and the vintage lace and sequin blouse, and topped the whole shebang off with my new leather jacket. Honestly, it wasn’t nearly enough to keep me warm enough on Oakland’s breezy streets – I should have had a chunky scarf on with a hat or some fingerless gloves or something.

Pleated Skirt: The Gap
Blouse: Vintage
Perforated Lambskin Leather Jacket: Elie Tahari
Leather Pouch: Modcloth
Necklace: Banana Republic
Ring: H&M
Suede + Gold Bracelet: Lori’s Shoes
Boots: Nine West
Watch: Citizen
Shades: Ray Bans

If maybe you feel like watching the video for Golden Brown by The Stranglers, you may do so here.

I. I’m afraid I’m at a loss for words, so I’ll just post some old ones I’ve written and that’ll be that. This is early 2008, maybe?

We caught that fat, pretty moon on the way home to Oakland, just as dusk was putting on her coat to call it a night herself. The windows of all the buildings ahead were that inky twilight blue I love; the vague, last breaths of sunset still smarting off the bay to our right, and all that goddamn fog lurking like a herd of buffalo at the Golden Gate. I wanted to hug it. M wanted to eat it. The petite just looked and looked.

II. Some things M said to me five or six years ago, long before we were all married and whatnot:

• Why, Ms Jones, there isn’t anywhere on earth we could go to where you hair wouldn’t look absolutely perfect! Let’s find a globe, spin it really fast, and point somewhere! If it’s somewhere unfortunate, we’ll ignore it, do-over!
• Today, when I picked up the dry cleaning, it looked like your dress was dancing amidst my fancy pants. I can only imagine all of the dry cleaning is dirty again.
• I just wanna watch you dance, and maybe brush your hair!
• I remember the time we slept in a twin bed because your luggage and accessories took up the entire second bed. You had the nerve to steal all of the sheet, even in a twin bed! Then I remembered that you give excellent foam party lap dances, so I let you keep it. In the morning, you ‘sh sh sh-ed’ me when I asked what time it was, even though we had already missed two flights out of Spain! We miraculously made it on the flight, and even got bumped up to first class. We were going to pretend to be newlyweds to score free champagne, but we didn’t have to!
• You’re so feisty. Just for that, I’m going to trial and error all over your pretty shoes.
• You are owed a lifetime of wishes by the nights’ stars. I am here to deliver them.

It still makes my heart skip, tumbling over all her little words.

She is charming, no?

III. On combining our books:

M & I combined our books a long time ago. For any other bibliophiles out there, you realize this is no small act of love. It’s more of a colossal commitment; there’s an unprecedented intimacy to the merging of all those sheets, my spines leaning against her spines, the resulting language perfect – haunting, honest harmonies created from these small, significant representations of who we are and what we like and dream of and also who we hope, one day, to be.

Skirt, Ann Taylor
Turtleneck, Ralph Lauren
Shoes, Elie Tahari
Necklace, Banana Republic
Forest Friends Rings, H&M
Nail Polish, Sally Hansen Complete Salon Manicure in Haute Chocolate

WELCOME TO 2011, KITTENS!

We have arrived, at last. My dearest darlings, on this most brand spanking new day all the year round, here’s to wonder and good fortune newfound. I hope you all had a grand old New Year’s Eve, full of deliciously naughty and wonderful things, with a sloppy wet kiss on top (for good measure). So many of you, so it seems, have had a spectacularly shit 2010, and I do hope things take a turn for the best this year.

Here are some of my favorite inspirations, because why not share what makes you happy?

Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Here’s to the roses and lilies in bloom.
You in my arms and I in your room.
A door that is locked, a key that is lost, a bird and a bottle, and a bed badly tossed, and a night that is 50 years long.

- SF’s very own Herb Caen

2009 wasn’t the easiest for us, we faced a lot of challenges and endured staggering loss. I’m not gloating when I say that 2010 was pretty tremendous. We needed it to be. We certainly earned it.

We had a steady stream of lovely houseguests, and walked countless miles on SF’s streets. I read Anna Karenina. I met the man behind Bulleit bourbon. I took an incredibly empowering self-defense course. We took fencing together on a whim, which was equally hot and challenging. M took me to paradise Isla Mujeres for my 30th birthday. Her company went public. FFAF was a top contender for a Lezzy Award in the Culture / Entertainment category, and saw collaborations with Tulle, Modcloth, and Autostraddle. I became a member of the Femme Collective and helped to organize, then attended and presented at the Femme Conference. I started a terrific new job. The petite left home for the first time on a service learning trip to Nicaragua. We road tripped to Portland. We stayed at a 4-star resort in Carlsbad. We spent a long, rainy, perfect weekend in a tiny cabin in the wine country, along the Russian River. We went to a “no pants” party, I went to two Stars and Rufus Wainwright shows each, I got bangs, I grew them out, I got them again. I, master scorner of music festivals, went to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass and the Treasure Island Music Festival. We discovered that we’re too old for SF Pride (but not for the Dyke March). I fell in love with the World Cup, managed to find a nugget of pleasure in baseball (but only just), Miette, the Creme Brulee Guy and El Porteno’s empanadas. We moved. Again. And we’re so, so happy.

We’ve vowed to hit the new punching bag (20,000 for M; 10,000 for me), explore more small batch whiskeys, not get groped by TSA, and to throw ourselves into a secret project for 2011. I want to invest more in my studio for FFAF, read a book per week on average, visit the shooting range a few times per year, and ride horses as often as I can afford to.

What are you looking forward to in 2011?

Fur: Vintage
Blouse: Kensie
Vest: Jenny Han
Skirt: Old Navy
Tights: The Gap
Shoes: Elie Tahari
Bag: Freebird by The Sak

Here are some cheeky pics from our New Year’s kiss last night!

XOXO,

FFAF

Did you know that Saturday’s incredible heatwave broke a San Francisco record? The hottest recorded temperature was 84 degrees in 1947, and we saw a whopping 85 degrees on June 12th, 2010. In all that glorious sunshine, M & I walked just over three incredibly sweaty hilly miles to take Conor to Holly Park. We found some supplies at a wonderful little deli called Avedano’s Holly Park Market in Bernal Heights – they were very accommodating in slicing us some fresh prosciutto, they had fabulous bags of sea salt crostini and small but super high quality assortments of cheeses, chocolates and other confections. The result? A romantic Saturday picnic in the park with our pup.

Did you know that Friday, June 11th was Fit For A Femme’s 2nd birthday? I can’t believe we missed it. I had it marked on my calendar and everything! I’ll have to dream up some other way to celebrate, even if slightly belated. Let us discuss this ensemble for now. The necklace was a Christmas gift from my mother – it’s vintage and belonged to my dear grandmother – she thought I’d cherish it and put it to good use.

Shorts, Martin + Osa
Tank, Elie Tahari
Hat, Capelli
Shoes, Madden Girl
Necklace + Watch, Vintage
Sunglasses, Kenneth Cole

Can you see Twin Peaks there in the distance? It was a beautifully clear day, and I hope everyone had a delightful weekend.

Sometimes we take time from our busy, fast-paced city life to ease into the slow lane, where the neighbors are quiet and polite (or best of all, nonexistent), the food takes its sweet time coming to the table, and everything is lovely. Yes, even if it’s storming out. Most recently, it took us to the Russian River Valley in the wine country. Specifically, to Guerneville. More specifically, to Korbel Champagne Cellars for a tour of the grounds and gardens, and a champagne tasting.  Don’t we look snug? That’s because the rain stopped long enough for us to enjoy the visit.

Look at all that stuff! We did not realize how old Korbel was, nor about the trio of brothers from Bohemia, with their Bohemian brides, and all the scandal and intrigue and Wasp-y newsletters, etc. It’s a pretty interesting history, and while Korbel isn’t edging out cava or champagne from France anytime soon, their organic Brut and Blanc de Noir reserve aren’t half bad! They certainly came in handy back at our rustic cabin, pairing nicely with the fancy cheese plates from Boon’s.

Sometimes we eat. Sometimes we eat A LOT:

I’m getting ahead of myself! The gardens! They were really very pretty, with some varieties of roses over 200 years old or something incredulous like that. Take a little stroll with us, won’t you? Try not to pick up random things on the ground and eat them, like the tomboy does. It worries me.

Sometimes we cuddle and sometimes the tomboy just looks too bloody adorable and NOM-worthy for her own good, don’t you think? I’m surprised I don’t need a new stick every week just to beat all the ladies (and the odd gay) off, honestly. I guess the choke hold down there helps. I guess this is a good place to tell you where she got the scratchy wool coat at, it was the military surplus store in San Jose, which has rock bottom prices. The jeans are Sevens and the shoes are the same Marc Ecko ones you’ve seen before.

Y’all? We expected sunshine and LOTS of it this weekend (this being Mother’s Day weekend, which is where all these photos are from), but we had a single day of light and then the storm came. My Oleg Cassini weekender bag and I were beside ourselves, considering the fact that I’d packed 84,000 sundresses and little else. Good thing I was able to assemble this backup outfit for inclement weather.

PANTS: Silence + Noise (I think officially these are “jeggings”, which might make my page views plummet wildly. I apologize.)
COTTON LEOPARD PRINT TANK IN NUDE: Elie Tahari
CARDIGAN: Kersh Essentials (Costco, basically.)
SHOES: Madden Girl
BAG: Emilie M.
NECKLACE: Betsey Johnson

This concludes your getaway weekend with Skinny + M! We hope y’all have fantastical Memorial Day weekend plans. Tonight is our Friday, so we have a lovely four-day weekend planned in which there will be Ethiopian food, a great deal of bloodshed and hopefully heart at UFC 114, the world premiere of Beautiful Child, a musical set to the staggeringly gorgeous music of Rufus Wainwright (there will be OUTFITS), homemade strawberry sangria, and who knows what else?! Perhaps there will even be some sun.

CONFESSION: In spite of the fact that this dress is super fun, I’m getting the distinct feeling that old 2009 isn’t going to go without a fight. You know what, 2009? EAT A BAG OF DICKS AND GOOD RIDDANCE TO BAD TRASH! I’m not scared of you. You, my friend, are on your last wonky leg. (No offense to bona fide wonky-legged pups – they are precious and deserve nothing but endless love.)

Perhaps that’s a bit unfair. 2009 wasn’t exactly bad, I mean, it wasn’t full of absolute misery and suffering, not at all. It was simply a year of bipolar highs and lows, and I am only saying, “We had a good run, 2009, you taught me a lot and I don’t regret the stellar changes and growth you saw me through. But you were a little unfair, a little hysterical, you threw one too many hissyfits and, in the end, you just weren’t there for me. You were kind of a cocktease, also. Your upside just isn’t good enough, considering all of the risk.” Harsh? Perhaps.

C’est la vie! 2010 is a fresh start. Go on. Touch me.