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!

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

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…

Greetings, queers! I’ve missed ya. An entire week has passed and you couldn’t pay me to tell you how on earth that happened so fast, because I do not know. There were many weekend outings but not a photo snapped, and I hope to rectify that with this weekend’s outings. Some dear friends of ours are in town, which guarantees shenanigans of the exquisitely made cocktail nature, and we’re going to the SF Giants vs. LA Dodgers baseball game on Sunday! I’m so excited. I can’t wait. I haven’t been to a ballgame in awhile.

HOLD THE TRAIN. There’s another very practical reason why there are hardly any posts from this week. I totally injured myself on Sunday night! For the first time in my life, I twisted or sprained or somethinged my poor right ankle coming down a flight of stairs. I feel that my heel (don’t worry, the shoe is FINE) got caught in a bit of unraveled carpet or something, because I went flying and it could have been a helluva lot worse than a scraped, bruised, sore, tender wrecked ankle. M was so scared! I phoned my fancy doctor friend early Monday and she advised me on how to care for it, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be ready for heels again tomorrow.

While being doted on very lovingly was sweet while it lasted, I really and truly despise being slowed down.

So there you have it. I really hope that I can post some photos of yours truly with famous drag queens, because they were incredible. Here’s a teaser: There was a very believable Reba, and she came with a tiny puppy!

This is so much less about my outfit than it is San Francisco’s unfailing yet surprising and constant beauty. All these were taken over the range of a few hours at most, and the various backdrops are within mere minutes of each other. It is easy to forget how remarkable this city is; true passion and loyalty requires constant devotion, the ability to let certain angles fade and slide back into focus. It reminds me of set changes in an opera or musical. Or of love.

Wonder will come and go like the tide when you live here, is what I am getting at, and this day was full of it.

Ocean Beach was cold but clear as a bell, and it sure didn’t stop dozens of kite surfers from getting into the Pacific’s icy waters. M insisted on skipping rocks into the waves and we ran around like banshees in the spray and blowing sand. Those branches I’m clutching on? That’s in Golden Gate Park, in front of Rainbow Falls. Man made or not, it’s a tranquil little place to stop on John F. Kennedy Drive. Finally, there’s the delightful Tulip Garden (though these photos are suspiciously devoid of tulips), which lies in the shadow of the historic Dutch Windmill (and used to pump tens of thousands of gallons of water into the park!).

And there you are. For the record, I’m wearing Lamica boots with H&M jeans, a random flimsy tee with a little zippered pocket, an old striped scarf and my Blanc Noir wool coat. The cheeky hat is M’s, and she got it from a little gay boy boutique on Castro Street. The boys working there bickered lovingly in a very entertaining manner. Goorin Bros. hand warmers and Spy sunglasses.

But I know y’all are going to fuss over the scenery, so do!

XO,

FFAF

HELLO, KITTENS!

How the hell are you? It’s been a week! A whole week!

Before anything else: Thank you for voting for Fit For A Femme, even if we didn’t win a Lezzy Award this year, we stood up there with the big dogs and it was totally awesomesauce, and I lovelovelove y’all for voting day in and day out with all your might.

So, I got this mini whilst thrifting for, like, $2, NWT. It makes for a great casual, relaxed look, but where the hell does The Gap get off charging $50 for a tiny denim miniskirt? Not that it isn’t great. It is. It’s just that I wouldn’t dream of wearing this without leggings on underneath. It’s SCANDALOUSLY short. And tiny. And not worth that crazy sticker price, which makes finding it for next to nothing that much sweeter. I went BANANAS thrifting last week. It was a month-end clearance sale, and I got 15 super awesome pieces – from a beautiful azure blue sunhat with the most dramatic brim to an armful of calico sundresses for Spring to a soft chestnut brown shrunken velvet blazer (it screams equestrian) – for just under $35 and in less than 1.25 hours. SCORE. Shopping = femme sports.

What else? Oh, you know, not much. I completed my utterly life-changing self-defense training on Sunday, and new bruises are STILL popping up all over my body. Badges of honor, my instructor calls them. I had the privilege of fighting FIVE fights at my graduation ceremony (with M and the petite there to support and cheer me on), instead of the standard three. DO NOT MESS, Y’ALL.

I was just named a member of the Femme Collective, which is gearing up for Femme2010: No Restrictions this August. Femmes, mark your calendars (and reserve your spot on the infamous Skinny + M sofabed now if you’re an out-of-towner)! Speaking of M, she and I are headed across the Bay Bridge next week for a meeting with other legally wed California couples to discuss next steps as powerful advocates for marriage equality, which I’m really excited about. Writing checks and being visible and all that is well and good, but I never feel like I’m doing enough unless I’m doing.

I will be a busy girl. A busy, happy, girly girl!

Also, we just ordered her a pair of these dapper new shoes:

I braved the drizzle to nail this FFAF post today, you guys! Drizzle and a steep, steep grade, not to mention this lingering head cold. Cloud cover mutes the otherwise dreamy view of the bay in the background, but maybe you can make it out just a little bit. When I took out my gloves to put them on this afternoon, I noticed a faint emerald green print on the inside. Upon closer inspection, the left glove shows the no. 7, and Lionel Le Grand beneath it. Inside of the right, Made In France Expressly for I. Magnin & Co.! I don’t know how I missed that before. I found them at an old Lutheran thrift shop in the East Bay, of all places. Years ago.

Anyway, this magical, high-waisted, uber-tight, red hot miniskirt. Unfortunately, it’s all sold out at modcloth.com, but I love it. They had another of its kind – the Da Vinci skirt – in a pretty purple shade, but that’s all gone, too! Next time I wear it, I’ll try more color, but I couldn’t help but femme fatale it up a bit for the first go-r0und.

C’mon, folks, we’re taking a stroll. This outfit really isn’t anything special, but it’s been awhile since the sun has shone on a wintry Sunday here in San Francisco, so we’re going to wander through the Mission into the Castro for M’s haircut (it’s been about six weeks and she was starting to get all ornery about it), and you can enjoy the sights, sounds and tastes with us along the way.

We found this pink house around the corner from M’s barber shop on Market. It has a fantastic little mail slot for the post, above.

Unionmade is an incredible, incredible men’s store on Sanchez. I’ve been wanting to wander in for some time now, and I’m so glad we finally did. The boys at the counter were good-natured and adorable about M & I threatening to move in, joking that it was open concept and cheaper than our current flat. Everything they carry is gorgeous, from the heaviest, highest quality wool sweaters, handmade and signed for in Denmark, to tees so soft and wafer-thin they catch your breath, and lots and lots of leather goods and manly, officious nautical instruments and things to admire. See M peeking through their store window down there?

To the right of the store, the Victorian that M would like us to move into. Below left, the J heading out of Dolores Park, where hipsters were out in full effect, crawling out of their tobacco- and PBR-stained ratholes to undulate feverishly in the light of day, neon sunglasses at the ready. Sigh. Fortunately, the line at Bi-Rite Creamery wasn’t too bad (and I got to pop into Joy O Designs next door and drool at all the jewelry and clutches) and M & I both got single scoops with two flavors each: vanilla malt with peanut brittle and chocolate bits, roasted banana, honey lavender and mint chip. Everything was good except the honey lavender, which tasted like “eating a stick of laundry detergent” according to M, but Humphry’s still beats out Bi-Rite and Mitchell’s, we’ve decided. IT IS WHAT IT IS, KIDS. Deal with it. I will say that my ice cream cone lasted me from 18th & Dolores all the way to Paxton Gate, which is fairly impressive.

Clockwise from top left:

• The Smile, You’re In SF! hidden camera art in an abandoned gas station, with a homeless guy napping in a pile of trash next to it.
• Open House sign for a ridiculously overpriced flat in our neighborhood. See below for up close awesomeness.
• This lady was standing at the corner of 22nd & Valencia holding a sign that said “You Are Perfect” for no apparent reason.
• The Marsh doing some sort of weird taping – “What Is A Wife?” and “Faces, Feelings & Lies”.
• Try French Kiss! Don’t mind if I do! Thanks, bossy street graffiti!
• Bi-Rite’s flavor sign and ice cream tubs. Mm.

We walked over three miles! It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon, after sleeping in and dilly-dallying over coffee and Grey’s Anatomy for the Wii all morning. Tonight, M made her delicious secret recipe burgers and I made my fantastic homemade french fries, and we baked a batch of chocolate thumbprint cookies with a vanilla bean & chocolate ganache. They’re still setting, so the verdict is out still on their deliciousness!

Hope y’all had a fantastic weekend and HAPPY FEBRUARY! It’s the month of love, y’all. In eleven days we’ll mark the 5th year of our very first meeting, and February 2006 was the month we became real “girlfriends”, too, if you can believe it. Even if you haven’t got a loverbird, I believe firmly in loving on yourself, so you’d better! XOXO.

PS. If you like my shirt and / or want to see others like it, check out Lola Starr’s online boutique. I bought mine after attending one of her super amazing, outdoor, nighttime, themed roller skating parties on Coney Island in 2008.

PPS. Wanna live here?

HA! HA! HA!