Gather round, kittens, I’ve got a lovely fairytale to tell you on this night which feels like a night might if it were a paintbrush dipped into a brand new bucket of paint the color of Autumn. Ready?

Once upon a time, it was a real hot day in San Francisco. So hot, in fact, than an ordinary working girl had no choice but to wear a pair of perfect khaki Bermuda shorts in black, with a lightweight, loose-fitting top to work. With a pair of smart heels, of course. TRUE STORY. After successfully resisting the urge to skip away from her desk and to the beach on such a glorious day, the evening goal for this girl and her beloved was clear as a bell:

PROCURE DELICIOUS BOOZE FIXINS’ FOR A PIMM’S CUP.

It didn’t happen. Well, the fixins’ were got, but everyone was plumb out of Pimm’s No. 1. Terrible! We made do with some gin improvisation, and that was that. The end.

Shorts: Old Navy
Top: Petticoat
Pumps: Max Studio
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Earrings: Hoof & Horn Leather

More exposed skin.
More blissfully hot days.
More loverbird adventures in SF.

ON LOCATION: Safeway (top), Dolores Park (left), Baker Beach (right)

Tomorrow is our Friday, as we’re gearing up for a relaxing three-day weekend in a coastal resort city one quick little plane ride away. Chasing the sun, as it were, since it’s supposed to be in the low 70s and I can’t bloody wait for the warmth and pampering and R&R. Here’s to one last burst of sunny FFAF posts before we slip into Fall’s pumpkin-and-spice embrace.

We’ll need it before the following week arrives. Why is that?
Well, because next week is super jam-packed with the following hotness:

In no particular order of importance (except #1, of course):

1. We will celebrate our 2nd wedding anniversary!
2. Gossip Girl Season 4 begins.
3. Weekly fencing lessons continue. Our first was tonight and it was B O S S.
4. Super famous Tumblr Lesbians in SF debuts an all-new photo show at The Lex.
5. Ivan Coyote will swagger into the Mission for one blessed night.

Hot-cha-cha!!!

More and more and more sunshine. These were taken in a friend’s backyard. I’m standing in an empty fish pond and drinking a mocha from Martha & Bros., trying not to think about all the cocktails I foolishly consumed the night before, at both Mango and Cockblock, nor how I was still fighting a nasty summer cold.

M & I were waiting for them (“bcw” and Dr. Dyke, if you must know) to look after their kittens before we headed down to Jack London Square for the 2nd annual Eat Real Festival, an amazing weekend full of the greater SF Bay Area’s best street food carts, local beer and wine, entertainment and the most current, informative happenings in the world of slow food and sustainable eats.

This is FFAF’s 2nd year at the festival!

Wearing:

Levi’s Denim
Old Navy linen cami with pintucks
RVCA shirt w/ roll-up sleeves
Boots from Portland’s Rock n’ Rose
Bag by Emilie M.
Handmade necklace
Kenneth Cole sunglasses

It was a gorgeous day. We ate so much, we drank a lot, we all stripped down because it got so bloody hot, and we sat in the shade to watch the most incredible butcher contest I’ve ever seen before in my life (okay, so it was the only one I’ve ever seen). Another great year with the best friends at a superbly done event. GO OAKLAND!

Here are some fun pics from the day:

THE GOOD STUFF (brace yourselves, it’s PORK-O:

Hi, there. Have I mentioned that I joined a book club and we’re gearing up to read Anna Karenina? It’s true. I’m so excited. Nevermind that I’m concurrently working my way through a half dozen or so books right now, a book club is just what I need. Assignments, discipline, discourse! The timing also excites me. We might be in the throes of an Indian summer now, but this 838-page edition, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, will last us well into Autumn.

There’s also this rather modern version, you know, they’re calling it Android Karenina.

I’m told my translation is by far the superior one, by someone who would know.

I’m just a little bit fretful that my copy is brand new. Time constraints prevented me from purchasing a more storied, gently loved tome. The result is that it’s got zero street cred and no personality, as far as the lovely tactile nuances of books go. Sadface. I’ve already appealed to the book club not to laugh at it’s horrible shiny newness when they see it.

Compared to one other girl’s edition from the 1960s, mine is like an obnoxious Marina girl standing next to a chic Parisienne who dates moody beat poets and nonchalantly poses topless and smoking for artistic black and white photos, and so on.

What else is knew? We’ve had a series of incredible cocktails at home this week, created on-the-fly by yours truly and as I type this, the handsome one toils away in the kitchen while dinner cooks, peeling a cucumber to whip a batch of something boozy and delightful, I’m sure. Tuesday night we enjoyed French 75s with Boodles London Dry gin and a nice Charles de Fère Réserve Blanc de Blancs Brut. Last night I slapped together some Ketel One vodka with lavender-infused simple syrup, Domaine de Canton, fresh lemon juice & a sugar rim, and it was delicious.

M has emerged with the cocktails: Muddled cucumber with gin, Combier and Domaine de Canton, fresh lemon juice. It tastes like eating dirt and drinking lemonade at the same time (in a good way).

My round won the night’s experiments, however. Gin with French Berry sparkling lemonade, fresh lemon juice and lavender-infused simple syrup.

Let’s talk about this book! It’s called, obviously, The Secret of Scent, and it’s a fascinating read on the science of smell, very heavy on  olfactory theory. It is chock full of the most amazing diagrams of molecules and compounds and, I mean, I may or may not have googled whether or not there are tattoos for, say, tuberose or Astrotone out there. Luca Turin, the author, is a world-renowned biophysicist and a true giant in the world of fragrance. I had no idea that there was so much we still don’t know about smell.

Anyway, this outfit!

Tunic: Staccato
Leggings: Calvin Klein
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Boots: Lamica
Cuff: Dollywood
Lips: Revlon’s Just Bitten Lip Stain in Frenzy

These are all M’s favorite looks and pieces from Zara’s F/W Collection for Men. What do you think? She’s very into (as always) bulky, shawl-collared sweaters with bold patterns, sweaters that look like dead animals, and military detail. I like it all, but the oversize infinity scarf really threw me for a loop!

This almost looks like summer! Almost. We took these at the end of the heat wave last week, when I was just beginning to feel a bit under the weather.  This dress has a criss-cross back, the tricky kind like you used to wrestle into all wrong when you were a little girl and all the swimsuits came with those cross-cross backs, you know? Confession: I still sometimes get it wrong, but I think that’s because I’m terribly impatient.

Confession No. 2: Sometimes when I’m not my usual frisky self or don’t have music to loosen me up for these FFAF shots, I look to my catalogs and magazines like Lula for posing inspiration. It feels silly but it’s better than boring y’all and myself to death! Anyway, here’s M, threatening to beat me with my own catalog. Tsk!

I am not sure what she’s grinning at so adorably up there in the sky somewhere, but it made for great photos!

When I snagged this necklace at one of those little Isla Mujeres boutiques back in April, it was because I envisioned it just like this. Set against a solid, severe backdrop or against a nice, bold, black and white print. I particularly like how the funky tattoo-influenced print clashes with the dark coral strands. The only thing I’d change about this is my nails, which are naked. They should be Jeffrey Campbell “No She Didn’t!” red, of course.

M wants to know if you like her kicks. I think you’d better! She even bought herself a hoodie in the exact same shade of green to match.

Pants: Calvin Klein
Shirt: H&M
Shoes: Etnies M. Taylor Skate Shoes

Dress: Fairground
Cardigan: Calvin Klein
Shoes: Franco Sarto
Clutch: Alice + Olivia for Payless
Sunglasses: Le Tigre

I need very badly to be a bunny in this amazing sweater:

Dear friends and lovers,

Your frilly femme has fallen ill. It’s true. It could have been all the excitement (and AC and recycled air people) of FemmeCon, or something going around at work, or the crazy heat wave zapping my immune system, or all three. Summer colds really are the worst, aren’t they? Except our summer lasted 3.5 days and is long gone as of Wednesday.

Rest assured that I am getting my daily dose of bitters, because they just don’t make medicine like they used to. Let’s move on. Being sick is so dull.

Have you looked at Autostraddle lately? Because it looks like this:

…which is super fucking R A D S A U C E. Like, I feel like I’ve really made it as a girl-on-girl culture person, in all my guest-posting glory, and I’m not just saying that because I love those girls to death (which I do). It’s a real honor. There’s also a really inspiring and lovely conversation happening in the comments section there.

I think it’s so funny and bizarre that earlier this year we were competing for a Lezzy Award, and now we’re total BBFFs*.

*BBFFs = Blogger Best Friends Forever, durr.

Silk Dress: Rachelle
Vest & Leggings: Calvin Klein
Knotted Flats: Payless

Speaking of, it’s one thing to buy a $10 pair of basic black flats from Payless (like I’ve obviously done here), but “real” shoes? Hot ones? HOLD THE PHONE, COWGIRL. I don’t know, I got an email the other day and I’m a little bit blown away by some of the action they’ve got in their guest designer lines right now, what do you think?

Meet one of Brooklyn’s finest femmes, kittens! Here’s the delightful Bevin Branlandingham of FemmeCast and Queer Fat Femme. She and I ran a little workshop at the Femme2010: No Restrictions conference last Friday morning. We met for the first time in June at her incredible Re/Dress & Size Queen event in Oakland, after becoming fast internet friends through our mutual love of fashion, all things femme, and involvement on our respective committees with the Femme Collective earlier this year.

Also, her tomboy friends have the cutest puppies, don’t you think?

Of course, her outfit rules. This is one LBD that refuses to be outdone, and the little tart hair clip was quite the cherry on top of her ensemble. Here’s her really impressive bio, since it says it way better than I could:

Bevin Branlandingham is the Host and Producer of FemmeCast: The Queer Fat Femme Podcast Guide to Life. She is a flamboyant femmecee, writer, drag king, burlesque and comedy performer. She is Co-Head Madam of the Femme Family, the New York Chapter of the Femme Mafia, on the steering committee for the Fat and Queer conference and the media committee for the Femme Conference. In 2008 Bevin received a Commendation from the Mayor of Jersey City for her work with the LGBT community. Her writing has been published in numerous periodicals and she has performed throughout North America. Her mission is to make the world a safe place for people to love themselves, regardless of their marginalizations. Her website (including blog, calendar of events and workshops) is found at QueerFatFemme.Com.

She also blogs at Butch-Femme.com and The Femme’s Guide to Absolutely Everything and performs throughout North America.

This has to be one of my most favorite collages ever. Adorable puppy? Check. Pretty, multi-talented femmes? Check. Dildo? Check. Fancy hair ornaments? Check. DONE AND DONE.

I need Bevin to chime in on her outfit particulars, but here are mine:

Dress: Calvin Klein
Shoes: MaxStudio
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Earrings: Vintage
Necklace: Culp Baubles
Feathered Hair Clip: Buffalo Exchange

Waiting for Rufus Wainwright. After the closing remarks at the conference, M fetched me from the hotel and we set out for Napa. It couldn’t have been a more perfect evening. The temperature was perfect, the light falling softly at sundown was perfect, dinner was outstanding and Rufus Wainwright was absolutely wonderful, as always. At one point during the show, M whispered to me “How is he even a real person? His albums sound so good, but then you hear him live up there and he’s somehow much, much better than all that!” and I nodded with my tear-streaked face.

He made corny Napa jokes and told a few stories between songs, and he played La Complainte de la butte and Memphis Skyline (two of my favorites). Zebulon undid me completely. His sister brought the petite onstage and they all sang together (well, the petite cooed), and it was really lovely. I cannot wait until he’s back in November with the SF Symphony for Five Shakespeare Sonnets.

I am going to go every single day of the 3-day series, come hell or high water.

There is only one day left in this year’s femme conference and I can scarcely believe it.

I am exhausted, I am inspired, I am giddy with all of the magical, wondrous, truly life-changing things that can and have occurred when you get a bunch of femmes together to do thangs. It’s as humbling as it is empowering, and I almost feel outside of my own involvement and contributions in helping to make it happen by being a committee member and presenter, as well as an enthusiastic participant. It’s surreal! Of course, I can’t say that every single moment of every day thus far has spoken to me or been poignant for me, but nobody promised me it would, and the bottom line is that the benefits have easily outweighed any of that.

I shan’t say anymore! The fine folks at Autostraddle have asked me to do a little FemmeCon recap and I need to cull my resources and reflections for that guest post. I will say that I wore this pretty little outfit today, and it was a smash. The ladies practically needed fainting couches when I told them it was a find at Buffalo Exchange on Valencia, and the dress itself is from a little Australian designer called Runaway Pony.

For those who are curious, my TechFemme workshop yesterday morning went very smoothly. There was a very special attendee present: keynote speaker, author and bona fide femme Jesus (and freshly crowned Miss Femme America) Kate Bornstein.

Y’all should follow the official Femme2010: No Restrictions hashtag on Twitter, if you want to. It’s #femme2010 and it’s pretty damn inspiring on its own.

I think over the past 72 hours I’ve only seen my girls for maybe 5-6 of those, and that’s been surprisingly hard on me! As a result, I decided to sit out tonight’s amazing Glitterati and Hella Gay events, since I went to Femmes On Fire and Friday Night Lights last night and there’s an incredible femme short film festival bright and early tomorrow morning that I cannot bear to miss. Chances are high I’ll regret this, but cuddling on the handsome one and telling the petite all about the conference has been really, really perfect.

Dress: Runaway Pony
Belt, Clutch: Vintage
Earrings: El Mexico
Boots: Rock n’ Rose
Watch: Guess

Here are just a few of the incredible individuals I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at the conference over the past few days. Really wonderful folks, all of them. I’m a lucky femme!

The other day we got into my car and realized I’d taken in all of my decent CDs and we didn’t have the iPod on hand, either. I glanced fretfully down at a book of CDs on the floor of the passenger side, filled mostly with Ani DiFranco, Bjork, Cowboy Junkies, The Cranberries, Massive Attack, Mazzy Star, Sarah Mclachlan, Tori Amos, etc.

It was basically the Big Lesbian CD Book of Shame & Processing, and/or Cry Sex circa forever ago, and I warned M about this in advance. There was a reason it was being kicked around on the filthy floor of my car. (I haven’t washed my car in, like, 2.5 years or something obscene like that. I digress.)

She picked it up anyway, trying not to gag at the first 3/4 worth of CDs. Toward the back were some random musical soundtracks and whatnot and she excitedly yanked one out of its plastic sleeve. “What’s that?” I asked, and she shoved it into the CD player. “I dunno, you wrote ‘fancy French femmes’ on it in Sharpie” which sounds just like something I’d do – not really helpful and only vaguely informative.

It started playing and I thought I heard The Doors, so I wrinkled my nose up and skipped forward a few tracks, at which point it began to sound like hot drunk French girls stumbling their way through covers of classic American rock ‘n roll at 3AM karaoke! It was so weird. I had no recollection of ever hearing any of it.

M looked just as confused/delighted. “What, were you dating someone French when you burned this CD?” she joked, and then we both looked at each other and giggled, because chances are I probably had been. Happily, we kept on driving, windows down and crazy French ladies crooning up.

She’s lucky she wasn’t getting an earful of Comme à la radio!

This outfit was thrown together for the new queer ladies night at Lime, about which I have nothing very nice to say, so I’ll just stop now!

Dress: Ruby Rox (I had to throw it away last night; it was pilling! So sad, it was comfy.)
Scarf: While it has got ponies and old-timey things on it, it’s not vintage, I don’t think. I’ll have to dig it up and look.
Terra Cotta Corset-Belt-Suspender Thing: Etsy
Belt w/ Pouch: Modcloth
Boots: Lamica
Leather: Zara

This is the blissed out face of a femme who is not only enjoying a perfectly innocent make-believe joyride on this totally bizarre pony statue in an even more bizarre reclaimed-wood-and-nature needle minipark in a big city haystack thing, but also headed to The Front Porch, a Southern restaurant in SF’s Mission District. I’ve been wanting to check it out for months and months and damn months.

Pluses: The co-owner (maybe ex co-owner? Apparently, she’s opened Hibiscus in Oakland) is a smokin’ hot dyke. Fried green tomatoes. Old-timey decor, included car seats with seat belts for booths.

Cons: Like, none. OK, the beignets could have been better, but it was a very lovely dinner date.

I didn’t even care that it was cold. Cold enough for toggled enclosures on my chunky vest. Sorry, I’m really distracted because I’m trying to write this while The Real L Word season finale is on, and it’s, like, really hard because they’re all so mindbogglingly vapid. Most of them. Natalie just said that going to Dinah when your relationship isn’t rock solid is tricky or something, to which I replied, “Like doing the AIDS ride when you’ve just had ass surgery and the doctor is NOT advising it but also not expressly forbidding it, either, so…just inadvisable? Like that?”

I really wish that we had whatever on/off button for falling in love that she and Rose have, because then maybe people would projectile vomit around M & I a little bit less. Just a smidge. Just a touch, darling.

PS. I am wearing my pony belt buckle. YAY!

Leggings: Romeo & Juliet Couture
Ruffled blouse: INC Women
Vest: Bloom (ZOMG Mikey is talking about making fun of people with bad haircuts POT KETTLE holy fucking balls)
Belt w/ pony buckle: M’s
Belt w/ pouch thing: Modcloth
Boots: Rock n’ Rose
Bullet cuff: Portland street vendor

You must say hello to Blanket. Blanket is a neighborhood kitty who really loves me, despite giving me this total bitchface for taking a picture of him lying so preciously in this box full of dead stuff. His name is Blanket because his fur is soft like whoa.

When I was little, I read like a fiend. The librarian let me check my own stacks out. I’d emerge from the doors of my sleepy little library with a pile of books in my arms that teeter-tottered above my line of sight. When I was little and my family would nestle into a cabin high up in Trinity Alps each summer, I’d see one of those logging trucks with unbelievably massive bundles of cut trees on the road, and I’d burst into tears. Such a wee hippie! I don’t think I ever made the connection, nor did the hypocrisy occur to me then. I reckon this is a fine example of the blissful ignorance of youth.

Years later and I’ve still a deep, abiding fondness for books, and for cabins tucked into wilderness.

Places like Powell’s become a little wonderland.

I think during our very brief stay in Portland we ended up at Powell’s three times! I invested in a super bright book light, which is spectacularly nerdy but, like, I needed one for the road. The staff recommendations were really fun and the little rainbow flags were quite helpful in identifying The Gay. This location is called the City of Books, and as the website says, it’s the “largest used and new bookstore in the world…occupying an entire city block, the City stocks more than a million new and used books. Nine color coded rooms house over 3,500 different sections, offering something for every interest, including an incredible selection of out-of-print and hard-to-find titles.” I came dangerously close to dropping hundreds of dollars on big, weighty, beautiful books, but the limited space in our car and luggage anchored me to my better judgment.

(But seriously, when is it ever a BAD thing to buy another book? N E V E R.)

M very sweetly paused to snap these in the fashion section.

Riding Pants: The Gap
Tank: Nordstrom Rack
Denim: Old Navy
Vintage Scarf, Boots: Rock n’ Rose (Portland, OR)
Bag: Betsey Johnson