fitforafemme.com

I HAD TO EDIT MY PRETTY VINTAGE STRIPED ONE-PIECE OUT OF THIS B/C SOME PERVERT FUCKER KEPT LOOKING AT IT. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. DIAF, ASSHOLE.

When (Day): Thursday, July 31st, 2008.

What: Black striped one-piece, vintage. Dark green and bronze peep-toe pumps from Carlos by Carlos Santana. Dress from Mango, thrifted pink corduroy bow belt, California Girl flip-flops in khaki. Red DIY headband from Charles Chocolates.

Confession: M said that this swimsuit made me look like one of those old-fashioned lollipops. Naturally, I wasn’t going to argue. (Gay! And yes, I put heels on for the first photos. So?)

When (Night): Thursday, July 31st, 2008.

What: Red cocktail dress by Fire. Black men’s vest, vintage. Linea Paolo flats in red and black patent leather. Black onyx pendant, vintage. Studded leather bracelet from the Dollywood leather shop, mixed silver chain bracelet from Juniper Tree.

Confession: I honestly don’t believe that I have ever, prior to this night, gone “out” wearing flats. The truth is, up until about two years ago I still refused to get on the goddamn flat train (cue that one Cure song, you know the one), but then I met a pair of black Dolce Vita ballet flats made of buttery black leather, and I permitted myself to slowly acquire a pair every six months or so. M hated them right off the bat. The puppy hates them. He eats them if I’m not careful to put them away – I can leave my heels out for days and he won’t touch them! Now, I think I’ve got at least four pairs to skip around in.

When: Saturday, July 26th, 2008.

Femme What: Black cocktail dress by Fire, black lace and pearl necklace from Spoiled! on Broadway, pink snake skin sandals by Max Studio, creamy vintage cut-out belt and wooden bangle bracelet.

Also, I apologize that my shoes are in none of these photos, but they are exactly like the ones pictured below, but in a frothy pink snakeskin instead.

Femme Confession: How many mimosas can one kitten drink during brunch? 84,000. That’s how many. I also bossed the bartender into adding champagne to one of their signature guava cocktails, to make a sort of guava French 75, and it was fucking spectacular. In full view of our company at the table, M grabbed my tits multiple times, citing the non-fact that I was “flirting with her” and I apologize publicly for that, but do at least thank your lucky stars you weren’t subjected to her hand up my dress at Mango (a tea dance with salsa and hip-hop music for lesbots at El Rio in SF). Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Tomboy What: Brown linen pants from Banana Republic, Ralph Lauren Chaps shirt, plaid brown Aldo shoes. And a brown Guess watch the femme gave me. Mimosas courtesy of Lime.

Tomboy Confession: Hello, brunch! Anyplace that is willing to give you bottomless mimosas for $6 deserves a medal of honor, or at least a remedial arithmetic lesson. Seriously, Lime, you are bad at math, but we love you for that! I ordered huevos rancheros, but I got this really interesting set of white testes with runny yolk inside on a bed of black beans, with guacamole and salsa slathered on top. They meant THAT kind of huevos. OK! Lesson learned! Although the ambiance “music” made me slightly nauseous (at least 3 different Britney Spears songs played within a mere hour-long period, which is too much for any person with unwaxed body hair to bear), the eye-lock with the endless champagne-seas kept me focused on what was really important: jogging the liver in preparation for outdoor drinking and dancing.