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Sunbathing on a delightful Saturday, we watched little boys chasing around birds like wee tyrants while the little girls did the smart thing and frolicked in the fountains nearby. We could have dozed here forever.

Femme: H&M dress, Franco Sarto patent leather wingtip pumps, Alice + Olivia for Payless clutch, Elle sunglasses.

Tomboy: Seven for All Mankind jeans, Ben Sherman belt, Penguin tie, Macbeth shoes.

Petite: I LOVE her flats. I bought them for her and wish we could share ‘em. They’re a brand called Me Too. She’s wearing them with Zara jeans she inherited from me. She’s also inherited some old pairs of Blue Cult, H&M and Miss Me denim from me – lucky petite!

Look at all of that vivid, glorious blue! I’m beat after spending a happy morning and afternoon helping a dear friend get settled in her new Oakland flat. It’s gorgeous. Flooded with warm sunlight through windows on nearly every wall of every room (which her two adorable cats love), tray ceilings with crown molding, hardwood floors with pretty inlays and those charming old touches all over, and French doors separating the huge master bedroom from the even larger living room. Just lovely. I AM SO JEALOUS, but incredibly happy for them (her beau arrives in two short weeks, she’s a carpenter and can play a mean banjo).

I was also mere blocks from our old loft today, and I felt pangs, y’all. Pangs of yesterday. Pangs of concrete-sandwiched-between-multiple-layers-of-drywall “party walls.” Pangs of walk-in closets and his ‘n her sinks and well-lit showers and a DISHWASHER and stacked washer/dryer sets, le sigh. Of course, living in San Francisco has its perks and advantages over Oakland, but bang for your buck where square footage and amenities are concerned ain’t one of them.

Laundry by Shelli Segal pants, Chicks On Speed for H&M racerback tank, thrifted vest, vintage shoes and Gucci scarf.

Another day, another outfit. This was my “laundry day” outfit. Far more interesting is that Karen Elson was pretty incredible last night at Cafe Du Nord. Her voice is much prettier onstage than it is on her solo album, which already sounds lovely, but still. Live her voice is haunting, taut, taunting. She chatters on between songs and apologizes profusely for her incessant need to “explain everything,” and then she half-giggles, half-chuckles in an awkward, nerdy way I really loved.

It goes without saying that she looked stunning, but real. I didn’t expect real, approachable. She was wearing a very long peach dress that fit her poorly in some places, but it kind of only made it that much more fetching, and there she was, oscillating between an ethereal, singing (and guitar-playing) angel and a bashful geek! The crowd favorite seemed to be The Truth Is in the Dirt, but I found myself singing along to The Birds They Circle the most today.

I’d write more, my friends, but it’s my turn to make cocktails and I cannot think up ways to use this unopened bottle of Lillet Blanc, can you? Let me know in the comments.

PS. Yes, Jen, my jeggings had faux pockets. In some circles jeggings aren’t considered the real deal unless they have the faux pockets. I’m just torn between shame and comfort on the subject.

PPS. Here’s where you’ll find us this weekend. This time, baby, I’ll be Bieber-proof! (I know, you hate me, you can’t get it out of your head. Oop! Kylie! Sorry about that.)

Bonjour! It’s been awhile! We were very busy touring the tomboy’s niece around San Francisco over the weekend, and with exciting new goings-on, to be announced shortly.

Japantown in the rain!
Shopping at Bloomingdale’s downtown!
Introducing the young one to Thai food and soju cocktails for the very first time!
A gorgeous, light-filled break in the rain at one of the city’s prettiest, best kept secret vistas!
Hanging out with glamorous lesbians (and some much less glamorous) at a new girl party in SF’s Mission District!
Cocktails with chocolate pot de creme and an insanely good sheep’s milk cheese plate with fig cakes and walnut bread in Hayes Valley!

And that was only Friday! Phew!

Saturday was filled with shenanigans in the Castro and the obligatory drive up to Twin Peaks (since the skies had cleared but left a mean chill in the air), then onto Ocean Beach through Golden Gate Park’s incredible tulip gardens next to the old windmill, and a tour of the Presidio topped with an incredible Central-South American tapas dinner where the Mission meets Market Street.

Sunday brought a mellower pace, with walkabouts through North Beach on a gloriously sunny day for a late lunch, and through the Mission for the murals and, of course, Secret Breakfast ice cream.

Nouvelle Vague’s cover of Dancing With Myself came on while M snapped all these pictures, so I’ll play it here for you in case you haven’t seen it yet (for it is highly watchable and will make you feel like dancing or smoking or both!):

I love my city!