Hot damn, y’all, it’s Friday! A pretty one, too, at least here in San Francisco, which means I ought to be sipping sangria at Cafe Flore, not sitting here in my workout clothes after combining a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders Boot Camp workout with one of Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred sessions. (In case you’re wondering why in God’s name I’d do such an awful thing, it’s because I totally punked out on an awesome Bikram Yoga deal yesterday – 20 sessions for $20! I could faint! I hate wearing sports bras! Someone might accidentally sweat on me! It might smell really, really bad! I’d have to buy a yoga mat, and I have no idea where one does that! See?! SO HARD. If you have strong feelings about it, however, feel free to try and convince me – I might scoop up the next deal I see instead of losing my nerve like a chickenshit so-and-so!)

By the way, did you know Kim Kardashian has OnDemand Fitness videos? She’s kind of sad and apologizes a lot, and wears a ton of make-up AND a corset during workouts. Maybe it’s meant to be more like soft core porn than anything…uh…effective.

Choosing is hard!

In easier, breezier news, we’re headed to the charming wine country town of Healdsburg for some much-needed family time and a change of scenery this weekend. I haven’t seen my folks there in ages and I miss them terribly. It’s supposed to rain, but I’m holding out hope that the weather will continue to be kind to us!

PS. Not sure which loser setting my camera was on that it took such PALE pictures of me, with such insanely comic book blue-black hair, but I’ll try to avoid it in the future. For all our sakes.

Wednesday already! I have no idea how that happened, but I like it. I am at home drinking a champagne cocktail and devouring clearance Easter candy (Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs, that’s how I roll) with the tomboy, who is catching up on her Ultimate Fighter show. Today I bought a soft white sundress with tiny yellow flowers all over it, and M got all excited and said I’d “look like a chick” when I wear it. Ha.

Despite the candy, M has pretty resolutely declared that we should no longer celebrate Easter, which is funny because we didn’t celebrate it, not really, to begin with. I’m not going to argue since it only served to interfere with my month-long birthday shenanigans. This outfit, by the way, was my little mellow Monday-is-my-birthday get-up. I wanted to wear a party dress, but toned down for a casual, sunny day – I spent the morning sleeping in, lingering over a delicious breakfast at home, then heading to Noe Valley for an extremely relaxing massage and Italian lunch. Also, I’m a total liar and that necklace is from an Isla Mujeres boutique, definitely not H&M. I am so in love with these earrings, too – the juxtaposition of the plain metals in a pretty shape that moves so gracefully just floors me. Who else here always buys a treasured bauble or two when visiting faraway lands?

Speaking of the world, it’s been backsliding too fast and too horribly for my taste, so I’ve been floating in this superficial space of watching weird shit like this:

Or of that one kid on some Asian version of American Idol singing Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You. Or of that other kid sobbing on and on about Justin Bieber. Beaver fever! I am still hoping someone throws an I’m Not Justin Bieber lesbian party here in San Francisco. With a photo booth. Ultragay!

Oh! Last but not least, on my trip I read this book…

Has anyone else read it? What did you think of it?

I disliked the sort of wan anti-feminist or at least whispery misogynist bits, they seemed to be written with bizarre purpose but read superfluously, to the story, anyway. The insistence that there’s some kind of literary mutual exclusivity was off-putting as well. Don’t tell me I’m only allowed to enjoy certain authors and not others, or that my liking one book means I can’t possibly like one radically different from it. Absurd!

Aside from that, I liked the story well enough and it was a fun read about a high school senior at an elite boys’ boarding school in the early 60s, where literati reigned the way Queen Bee & Co. do in present day Gossip Girl, with only slightly less petty malice and a whole lot of enviable pretty to drool over. The attention to detail fashion-wise amongst the students was kind of delicious in the way My Nerd Boyfriend is delicious. I zipped right through at least half of it in under three hours on the way over on the plane, and M scolded me to slow down or I’d have nothing else to read while we were in Mexico!

She was right. And wouldn’t you know, paperbacks at the Cancun airport were 180 pesos – appx. twice the US amount printed on the books themselves.

I settled on a $7 copy of Nylon, since none of the book titles were that tempting. More incentive to learn Spanish ASAP!

CONFESSION: Today was a day for the bank. I attended a private tasting of Dalmore’s 12, 15, Gran Reserva and King Alexander III single malt scotch whiskys, plus a very special bonus tasting, at the methodically handsome Laszlo in the Mission. The dear Scottish man who led the tasting said that I reminded him of a lovely, elegant Lowlands single malt scotch whisky, when he wasn’t spitting onto the floor at any mention of the French. (You can eventually read more about all that here, at my “other” blog. I don’t want to spoil it.) They were kind enough to let me pop upstairs before and after the tasting to take some super awesome FFAF photos, hurrah. Just a moment ago the UPS guy arrived with a very important package, and I was so excited that M said I made a big old ruckus of “kitten noises,” whatever those are. It contained a new dress (not-so-LBD) and super badass new shoes. I can’t wait to show y’all! M is well enough to drink a bottle of cava with me (finally!) and lasagna is baking in the oven with some fluffy garlic bread in hot pursuit. DREAMY.

SCENT: Tom Ford’s Black Orchid. I must confess something. I broke up with Tom awhile ago, but after reading about his directorial debut starring Colin Firth (and Julianne Moore) in A Single Man, I’ve realized something very, very important: My love for Colin is greater than my hate for Tom. Does that make sense? Of course it does. (He’s Mark-bloody-Darcy, after all.) I digress. Black Orchid is a hot, heady, stunning mess. The jury is out on whether or not that’s a good or bad thing. The opening is almost like scorched black licorice drizzled over jasmine and sundry florals, like in Absinthe or Drambuie. It does kind of smolder, all bared teeth, glossed lips and super dangerous bedroom eyes. This smells like the kind of woman you should stay away from – you know better, of course – but you can’t help yourself. I’m going to have to come back to this, because it’s too complex!

Here are some notes, FYI: Black Truffle, Ylang, Bergamot, Black Currant. Then the black orchid, dark florals, rich fruit, Lotus Wood. At last, there’s Patchouli, Incense, Vetiver and Vanilla Tears, Balsam and Sandalwood.

Watch this and tell me you don’t find it completely gorgeous. Seriously.

And since it was one of the most beautiful stills:

CONFESSION: I love this dress so. It’s easy and comfortable, but pretty. It looks better without the white tights (points to anyone who gets the lyrical reference), and I’ll post it that way someday but it is COLD here, so tights you are. (Get it? Tights you are! Right you are! Ha!) My little kitty friend came to take pictures with me, she’s very affectionate; she’ll jump up and paw at me like a puppy might. It’s adorable. I love her!

SCENT: Let’s not dilly-dally, I’ve got a different Victoria’s Secret perfume on either arm just waiting to be scrubbed off, ach so:

God, just look at that packaging. Cue involuntary sneer! OK, OK. Super Model out of the vial makes me think of soft vanilla and citrus, orange, actually, like a creamsicle. (M’s favorite!) It’s terrible. She likes it, which concerns me, but she is sick after all. On the drydown, it becomes something like stale, matted cotton candy.

Dream Angels Heavenly (America’s No. 1 fragrance, according to the VS website) shows some promise right away – quince, cardamom, white peony – but fades into boring, stuffy mediocrity. I will definitely have to hold this up against Dream Angels Desire to compare the two.

Y’all? I only have one more of these crap vials to test and report, and the epic experiment is final. To celebrate this, I have a very special fragrance post in the works. All I can say is that it involves intimate peeks into the cologne closets of two roguish tomboys, and you will want to go to there. Just in time for the holidays, too! I can’t wait, and I bet neither can you. Until then, kittens!

XOXO,

SBJ

PS. This chair had a cold puddle. I sat in it. Bugger.

When: Monday, Sept. 29th, 2008.

What: Silk blouse by Chelsea Flower (I recently discovered them and love their pretty, floaty tops and dresses. Find your own here or here!). Purple velvet tiered skirt with embroidered flowers by BCBG Max Azria. Belt from modcloth.com and hot pink pumps by Chinese Laundry.

Confession: I had total gay arm in the photo with my pretty chestnut leather Hobo Int’l clutch. Anyway, here it is. The gay arm and the clutch! Pretty, right? The clutch, I mean. Not the unfortunate positioning of my hand. I blame all of this on Mad Men. I noticed it earlier this evening when I was buzzing myself into the building. “Petite,” I said, “is my hand always like this?” She glanced at it and started giggling maniacally, but eventually she said no. See? TOTES BIRDIE’S FAULT.

Speaking of, she is kind of bad ass, so YES PLEASE:

Here are partial photos of the Badgley Mischka dress I have decided to reject as a candidate to the grand old soirree coming up in a few weeks. I am DJing a dear friend’s wedding. Of course, I need a dress that is both flattering and very comfortable. This one was lovely, but the winner was lovelier! It just wasn’t meant to be.

Besides, I’ve already got the perfect shoes to go with the winner! (Alas, I am in dire need of the perfect strappy, elegant silver heels. Suggestions?)