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Howdy, sweet readers! How has everybody’s week been? Aside from being crowned Miss Autostraddle Hot 100 (okay, there are 100 of us, but still), which is amazing and wonderful, mine’s been wack! Wanna know why?

• Sick tomboy
• It’s raining or fog-spitting today
• Tuesday tennis canceled due to sickness
• Finding out the hard way you should NEVER work out at lunch
• Finding out the hard way there is A LOT of nudity in gym locker rooms (I’m a prude)
• Finding out the hard way that an hour-long “power conditioning” class is NOT the best way to ease into things, in fact, that’s probably the best way to pass out/puke/want to die

I really kind of wanted to go to a fancy lesbian party last night (Flourish, natch), but the tomboy was sick (and studying), the friend who might have gone with me played the I hella live in Oakland card (hi BCW, sorry BCW, love you BCW), and let’s face it: If the thought of climbing up and down the flight of stairs in my house makes every inch of my hopelessly sore body want to whimper and curl up oh wait that would really hurt right now nevermind sleep on the couch instead of in bed, the last thing my ass needed was a slick dance floor. I’d probably have ended up in a wheelchair.

In short, lessons learned: Never work out when you can’t go home to shower immediately afterward, meet with personal trainer BEFORE jumping into the deep end. My appointment with her (she scares me) is on Tuesday, and in the meantime the Stairmaster and I are BFFs.

It rained for a hot second yesterday, but we’ve been graced with some sunshine this week, finally. I think we, as San Franciscans, forget every single year what a dirty, underhanded tease Spring can be. Moody, erratic, and has you completely eating out of her fickle little palm for any little scrap she feels like throwing you. We’re all sad, panting dogs waiting at the door for Spring.

JUST WAIT UNTIL SUMMER, YOU.

So here’s a new dress. It’s from Delia’s, and it’s got polka dots! It’s a great, gauzy cotton that’s off-white, actually, and I’m tempted to let the hem down two inches or so, making it fall a bit more demurely at the knee. What do you think? I also think it needs to be paired with a great pair of bright yellow or green heels, but believe it or not, I’ve been looking like mad and not quite finding anything that doesn’t cost an obscene amount of money, for example these:

Drop your girl a line if you’ve seen anything dreamy along those lines for $100-$200, would you? Danke. I might try the dress with my nudie girl flats, or some sandals, or maybe even my nude snakeskin pumps with some bright, kicky socks.

Check out M’s super foxy new Dior Homme glasses! They’re very handsome, and go fabulously with her Don Draper hair. I have to get a shot of her other new pair from Warby Parker; they’re a bit more retro nerd chic, but just as sexy. We couldn’t be happier with the level of quality and service from Warby Parker, by the way, if you’re in the market for prescription glasses, the whole shebang is $95, and shipping is lightning fast. (We ordered hers late on a Tuesday and they arrived exactly one week later.)

Dress: Delia’s
Shoes: Arturo Chiang
Headband: Ichiban Kan
Skinny Minty Belt: Asos
Wallet: Matt & Nat
Sunglasses: Elle
Earrings: Gift from me mum!

PS. New Seychelles kicks as per the comment silliness below:

What a weekend! It began quietly at home on Friday night. The girls and I piled on the couch with the puppies at our feet, delivery Indian food strewn across the coffee table, Secretariat on the widescreen. On Saturday, I cursed my Navigator all the way through the Sunset to the Castro to fetch the one and only Bevin Branlandingham of Queer Fat Femme for a lovely brunch tea.

Hm, scratch that. The weekend started early, I suppose, since we hit the town on Thursday night to check out the long lost Flourish party at Public Works in the Mission. The bar was well-stocked with many fine options and competent bartenders, and the space is really something else. Whoever put together the slideshow to benefit GLBT Historical Society did an amazing job and the photo booth fundraiser was lots of fun. We ran into many lovelies (and a few poorly behaved others) – Bevin and Miss Dylan Ryan and LISF – but catching up proved difficult over the loud music and trying to keep out the way of The Real L Word film crew! An exciting night, and the true beginning of a weekend that couldn’t come too soon!

Back to tea! It was a drizzly, gray sort of day, and I thought this dress was perfect for the weather and Tal-y-Tara, the equestrian & tea shoppe I’ve written about here a few times before. Bevin and I were headed there for civilized conversation and to film an episode of her delightful new web series called Lesbian Tea Basket. She thought I was kidding when I told her it was part polo shop, and after I chivalrously let her out in front while I found parking nearby, I found her wandering inside in absolute awe, touching all the fine pony things and blinking her big, lush eyelashes in disbelief. We sat and ordered and talked and marveled over the little fixins for tea sandwiches, the famous scones and shortbread and cookies and, of course, sipped tea. I won’t say much more but I can assure you that you’ll know when the special FFAF episode goes up!

I returned Bevin just slightly past her curfew (she was headed into the Santa Cruz mountains for the epic, overnight Hard French Winter Ball half of queer SF was at on Saturday night), and headed home. I needed to get out of this outfit (vintage dress and coat, Max Studio pumps, Alice + Olivia for Payless clutch) and into something suitable for Strikeforce, an MMA (mixed martial arts) event happening in the South Bay. M’s colleagues scored some tickets earlier in the week and it was my first time at an official fight night. I went from the pictured outfit to cowboy boots, ratty black tights, a short leather skirt, and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt under a dark wash denim jacket. I accessorized with piles and piles of mixed metal necklaces, my foxtail swinging from my purse, and red, red lips (inspired by Miss BB).

IT WAS EXCELLENT.

Amazing. I can’t wait to go again, and M said that she wants to go to a big UFC fight for her birthday this year. They shot huge, 10-ft. tall flames and fireworks from the sides of the stage whenever the fighters were announced, and the crowd was well-behaved for being at a bloodsport event. The fights weren’t bloody, but they were good. I drank beer and ate nachos and stole M’s Cracker Jacks. In a total 180, we woke up this morning and made our way to a very sweet baby shower for some friends of ours in Oakland. We all made pages for a custom baby book, played a fun game that had nothing to do with babies, ate French toast and quiche and cake, and marveled over all the hard work they’ve done on their home renovation in the past year. The rest of the day was spent in a dreamy, post-storm haze of (local) book shopping, hanging out a cafe, finding some tights to keep my gams warm, getting M a haircut, and unwinding over a low-key Italian dinner.

In fact, I have to wrap this up because M is waiting for me on the floor in front of our fireplace, with blankets and our books and pups. I hope y’all had wonderful weekends full of your favorite things, too!

XOXO,

FFAF

PS. A friend and dear reader noted that it was terribly coy of me to talk about all these books and not say what they were, and she’s right!

Here you go:

Clockwise from top right:

Revolutionary Road, Yates
The Sirens of Titan, Vonnegut
The Wild Things, Eggers
Super Sad True Love Story, Shteyngart

I promised Undercover Punk that I’d post the recipe for my spiced pear and ginger concoction from Thanksgiving, so here goes. You want the truth? The truth is I had no idea what the fuck I was going to serve at Thanksgiving Dinner, which in theory is a rotten, horrible way to go about things, but I also know that I’m at my best when it’s off the cuff, so I simply purchased a spattering of supplies and let inspiration guide me.

SKINNY’S SPICED PEAR & GINGER PUNCH

1/2 bottle of white wine (not-too-sweet Riesling or Pinot Grigio ought to do it)
12 oz. or so of pear nectar
a couple of ounces of Domaine de Canton French Ginger Liqueur w/ VSOP Cognac
a couple of ounces of Hendrick’s gin
few dashes pumpkin spice (typically nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, ginger)
fresh-squeezed lemon juice (1-2 large lemons)
muddled basil

(to be con’t)

Directions: Get a big ass pitcher. Fill that bitch with hella ice. Pour the wine and pear nectar over the ice. Put the basil and lemon juice into a shaker. Muddle. Add ice, Domaine de Canton, Hendrick’s. Shake. Pour into pitcher. Either shake the spice into the pitcher and mix, or sprinkle atop each drink and serve (or a wee bit of both for added fanciness). Booyah. You’re welcome. Of course, as I did, you’ll have to tinker with it to get it just right, but I’m not Martha bloody Stewart, so godspeed and good luck!

(Disclaimer: I’ve had appx. .75 bottles of bubbly myself tonight, so if I awaken to find I’ve left something out, I’ll be sure to note it.)

This outfit! Purple-y. Soothing. It happened.

Shoes: ebay
Skirt: Old Navy
Blouse, Tote Bag: Banana Republic

I’m still figuring out the damn FFAF studio in the garage, the lighting is clearly more…intensive than I anticipated, but I was too impatient to wait to post this and I hope future attempts are ever so slightly more polished. In the meantime this was fun and new and experimental, so I hope you like it!

More announcements! Do you know why? Because in SF, all the lesbians are doing all of the things all of the time. Do make an effort and be present and fabulous for some of them! Word on the street is that Flourish is coming back sooner than y’all can shake a stick at, and I for one can’t wait to go back to getting gussied up for a fancy dyke party.

See you there, maybe?!

Love,
FFAF

Welcome to my Party On! Pants Off! outfit. I really just cannot imagine a gayer outfit utterly devoid of rainbows than this, kids. You’ve got your sequins and your stars and your crazy ruffles and lots of leg and your body glitter and a completely nonsensical pattern / paint-splattered motif. In gold. There are lipstick bullets around my neck and an actual bullet-sized lipstick tucked neatly away in the warmth of my cleavage, and of course it’s in an obscene shade of red also used to color my lips and ARE YOU CRAZY don’t even think my nail polish deviates from the exact same poppy red.

The breakdown, because heaven knows this was no easy task (especially when it was time to pee):

Romper, Brooklyn Flea
Star-shaped tights, Betsey Johnson
Cut-out moto pumps, Modcloth
Lipstick bullet necklace, Culp Baubles
Lipstick, Besame Cosmetics

I’m fairly certain this number will never see the light of day, and I’m okay with that. The tights have runs in them a mile long and I’m okay with that, too. I flailed around so very enthusiastically with the tomboy to a Grease medley that night that I toppled over a very full whiskey sour of mine, fresh from the bar, and I’m okay with that (even if it still hurts, a little). A friend of ours gifted me with a Midori-issue tank top that says “ALL NATURAL MELONS” across it. I bartered a pair of neon green Wayfarers for an epic jar with a handle on it, which M now guards with her life.

When midnight came and it was officially M’s birthday, we dutifully did tequila shots at the bar and I crawled around rather helpfully all over the Supper Club beds and we danced to that really dirty reggaetón song we both love, Gasolina. It was a spectacular night, and not wearing pants was a pretty big part of it. I’m hoping Ms. Jackson and Party Ben and co. can be convinced to hold pants-free parties at least once a month, because the vibe is genuinely special.

And before you bossies call me a total tease for not posting waist-down photos of the infamous bandage dress from Flourish, here you go:

MORE PRIDENESS COMING SOON!

There’s so much drama in this fancy vintage coat. This whole outfit is rather obviously inspired by Mad Men, because I’ve been obsessing over these related blog posts for the last two weeks. In fact, the hardest thing to decide when accessorizing it was choosing between a Joan-like updo and brooch or tying the scarf that’s on my bag around my neck like Betty Draper. I can’t remember where I got the coat, but it’s a very heavy, supple fabric and yet it’s light enough to wear on a nice day.

The single button at the navel means that a gale of wind flings the coat back wildly, in a very melodramatic way, which I do love.

Even though I’m sometimes tempted to let this dress go, it’s one of M’s favorites and I can’t quite bear to do it. I had a meeting to go to, so I wore sheer black pantyhose with this, which I don’t normally do. I can’t remember where this necklace came from, but I think I like it better paired with white and denim, over black.

Dress / Belt, H&M
Bag, Emilie M.
Shoes, Linea Paolo
Coat / Scarf / Brooch / Watch, vintage

This is what’s on our weekend agenda (happy hour starts…now):

• Seeing one of my favorite bands, Stars (listen to the new album here if you want to)
• Dancing the night away at Flourish, an ultra-chic lesbian dance party
• An after-hours private spa party with fancy nibbles and champagne for some of my closest gal pals at a local Lush

SF Pride has arrived and just keeps coming like a freight train. WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS?!

We arrived by scooter – M drove! – to the southern tip of the island, where you’ll find El Garrafón – a national park, panoramic watchtower, sculpture gardens – as well as a small Mayan temple to Ixchel, the goddess of fertility and Cliff of the Dawn, which is the southeasternmost point of Mexico. If you’re there to watch the sun rise, you can say you were the very first person in Mexico to be kissed by the sun that day! The views, quite clearly, were stunning.

This was our first day, as evidenced by my relatively pasty gams. The wind did insane things to my hair. The sun did hurtful things to my poor arms, but every minute was worth it. The sculptures and statues were really incredible. I love these sandals.

STUD ALERT! STUD ALERT! STUD ALERT! Witness the tomboy, nestled so lovingly in the bosom of her motherland. (Ah, Mexico, land of lawlessness and splendor. You’re so damn pretty. Your babies are pretty. I’m so glad I married into you, Mexico.) M kept up with me in terms of wiliness that day, hopping down into restricted areas, leaning rebelliously against rickety railings perched on sea cliffs, climbing into the little crevices and caves, and peering into mysterious wells of water or curious nooks and crannies.

When I stood here gazing upon the sea, I had no idea that I – four days later – would be ziplining from an identical structure in a bikini, over the crystal blue waters in the hot, hot sun! (Twice!) When we paused in our adventures for some lunch, we ordered these margaritas, which were way bigger than our actual heads. I climbed into this super weird, sandy, vertical crater in the side of Cliff of the Dawn, and pretended I was on a moon. A hot, beachy moon.

I don’t believe the above needs a caption at all, but SCOOTERS! Rest assured that when we get one, our helmets will be much sexier than this. This next one is just for fun:

Greetings from San Francisco! It’s Friday! The weather’s lovely! What have you got planned? M’s arranged an afternoon soiree for birthday cocktails tomorrow, but we’ve got to be up extra early for a petite school competition, so no Flourish for us tonight, sadly. It looks likely that we’ll be laying low on Sunday (especially since kick-started the weekend early last night at Glam).

Femme2010: No Restrictions Update!

I’m super happy to report that the programming committee for August’s femme conference in Oakland has received so many amazing submissions, and we’re poring through them all diligently. It’s really exciting and if you haven’t done so yet, absolutely mark your calendars (or just take the plunge and REGISTER NOW for the early bird price of just $50) for what is sure to be one of the most amazing FemmeCons yet! While you’re at it, look them up on Facebook, too.

Last but not least, of course:

Howdy, kittens! This day was strange. It began shrouded in fog and sadly, a local tragedy. When we woke up this morning, we could hear the non-stop fog horns on all the cargo ships out in the bay, coming and going from the Port of Oakland, under the Golden Gate Bridge. We’re pretty far from the water, so it was kind of spooky and magical. M got the alert about the power being down as she dropped me off at the office (wearing a sweater!), and headed back home to wait it out while I worked.

Fast-forward four or so hours. 30 minutes south a town and company on the cusp of their IPO and surely the family of the crash victims began to pick up the pieces. The lethal fog had lifted completely, leaving the sweet, warm sun to shine down on the city. It lapped it up. M picked me up. We lapped it up! She and I decided a day this spectacular didn’t deserve squandering, and so we packed up and headed out into the world for a reading date. Our first thought was Atlas Cafe – they have such a great little back patio. Then, I remembered Pilsner Inn’s lovely little courtyard and we decided reading over beers at 3PM was far superior to reading over iced mochas. Alas, Pilsner Inn had workers toiling away back there, with loud machines and sawdust (and carting in, I think, a Creature from the Black Lagoon arcade game!), so we bid the bartender adieu and made our way down the street.

After snapping a few pics of intriguing local scenery (cherry blossoms, painted deer (above, being air-shot by M), scooters with giant wooden boxes affixed to the rear), I remembered Cafe Flore in the Castro! It was perfect. We quickly took up a carafe of margaritas and a small table. Nouvelle Vague played quietly in the back of my mind. The sky shone blue, blue, blue and it was heavenly.

Two more days until Flourish’s one-year anniversary party! It’s going to be fabulous. We can’t wait.

PS. I know. I pegged my jeans. I couldn’t help it. I felt a gripping need to show some ankle.