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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:

More San Francisco alley murals. More flat boots (the dog went and re-busted up my ankle fixin’ to fight some other dog on Monday night, just when I thought I was all healed up). MORE COVERT LESBIAN SMIRKING, courtesy of dear old Judge Walker’s incredible decision in the now very well known Proposition H8 trial. I thoroughly enjoy history being made in an irresistible hotbed of sexy, compelling, riveting logic, rationale, and sanity. It moves me.

I had the honor and privilege of being at the (not-nearly-as-open-to-the-public-as-I-thought) press conference that was held in the Banking Hall of the historic Bently Reserve in San Francisco yesterday, immediately following the announcement of the decision. The plaintiffs were there and spoke with eloquent emotion about how deeply grateful they were to the court, the legal team, their families and friends and colleagues, and of course, to one another for enduring the hell and glory of this battle for marriage equality. It wasn’t until Ted Olson took the podium, however, that I really began to get emotional. That man has a splendid command of words and speech, backed by a tremendous amount of authenticity.

It was out of this world to be in the presence of all of them, a wonderfully brave group of people who will live on forever as heroes to our community! If you haven’t already read or heard or watched what they all had to say at the press conference, you can catch some of it here.

Let us discuss this dress. I really love it. I bought it without even trying it on. The silk is beautifully lined but unforgiving, the kind that clips your natural stride by a quarter or perhaps even a third. I kind of like it, but saying so will probably make M call me a big old masochist. (I’m not, honest.) It looks a bit strange without the belt, but who cares? I have a belt! I’ve worn it dancing (with very sheer black hosiery instead of the thick leggings you see here), I’ve worn it to dinner, it’s one of my favorite finds of the year so far.

Dress: Castle Starr
Belt: H&M
Boots: Lamica
Tiny Hungarian Purse: Vintage
Necklace: Spoiled!

Sunday before last, we went to an epic brunch featuring an outstanding drag show at the Sir Francis Drake in San Francisco. This past Sunday, we went to an SF Giants vs. LA Dodgers ballgame, an exciting one, apparently, on account of the fact that the Giants were poised to sweep the Dodgers in the series. (I don’t speak baseball; forgive me any errors.)

On Saturday, however, M indulged my new lust for suspenders and bought me a pair of skinny ones from H&M, and I was dying to wear them. You know how it goes. (I am currently typing so speedily that M suspects I have Nasdaq trading windows open. I do not. Hello, the market’s closed. Except in Japan, but I’m so sure.)

So, yeah, this is what I wore to AT&T/PacBell Park. (Free drink for the first person to correctly name it, I really just can’t keep up.) One girl walking past literally squealed, pointed and exclaimed, “OOH, SUSPENDERS!” all gleefully. I felt more like a stable boy than anything else, but it was a really, really fun outfit to wear. Believe it or not, not a lick of what I’ve got on belongs to the tomboy. Not even the hat. That belongs to the petite, and it’s from Goorin Bros.

A girly girl in tomboy drag makes what?! I don’t know, but it was S U P E R.

Let’s break it down from head to toe!

Hat: Goorin Bros.
Suspenders: H&M
Shirt: RVCA
Trousers: RVCA
Boots: Lamica
Bag: Betsey Johnson
Sunglasses: Kenneth Cole

Last but not least, some pics from the day just for fun. The tomboy in her LA Dodgers garb, the consumption of cotton candy (do you know they come in flavors? I like blue the best, M prefers pink, how’s that for GENDERFUCKERY, yo), me feigning delight and excitement in a souvenir shop, boozing and the big, gloriously blue sky we were blessed with on game day…

I’m so sick of hearing about San Francisco’s wintry summers. I’m so sick of feeling them. I trek downtown each day, then float a few dozen stories up into the sky where I watch the dull gray tendrils lap lackadaisically against the other skyscrapers in the fleeting pauses of my work, watch it all come lumbering over the gentle slopes of Nob and Russian Hills and swirl and settle quietly in the tides of the bay. In the dead center of July.

The tomboy gets into her little car, ambles down the freeway into Silicon Valley, and bemoans having left the house in a blazer because it’s 20 degrees warmer there, and the sun is shining, and you can’t see a lick of fog anywhere, not even if you squint as hard as you can and picture me pouting mightily from where I sit.

Today, I had to wear this shirt with a cardigan and a brocade coat with a vintage fur collar. It was very dreadful.

I remember when I told loved ones I was planning to vacation in New Orleans in the dead center of July eight or more years ago. They thought I was out of my fucking mind. They were very wrong. I loved the heat, I was delighted that my ice cream melted faster than I could eat it at 10AM, giddy about the thunderstorms that swept briefly in to curse you and left just as quickly (and the river frothing), I couldn’t wait until it cooled down in the wee hours of the morning (and even then only by a few scarcely detectable degrees), when it was safe to sit outside with your beignets and Au Laits at Cafe Du Monde before stumbling back to the hotel.

That’s a goddamn summer. Don’t even get me started on summers in Barcelona.

Tomboy: Seven jeans, Vox shoes, Volcom shirt, Banana Republic blazer, H&M tie. Bulleit bourbon, of course.
Femme: Skirt from the Painted Bird, suspenders from Buffalo Exchange (and made in Germany, of all places), boots by Bandolino, Truly Madly Deeply v-neck. Leggings from The Rack.

I had to wear this dress again as soon as possible, even if it was cold and I had to layer like my life depended on it. (There was a black cardigan under this denim jacket, too.) Our special edition Pride 2010 Cockblock handkerchiefs came in the mail! M was so excited. I got one, too, and they each came with goodies from Good Vibes, too. Hotsauce.

Dress by Fire LA, boots from Buffalo Exchange, thrifted belt, Cockblock handkerchief, Old Navy denim jacket, leggings from The Rack, earrings from the Global Exchange store.

Today I scored an amazing vest of House of Hengst. Prepare yourselves!