fitforafemme.com

The above just blew your mind, I know, so here’s a clockwise from top left explanation:

• M reading the menu at Sparky’s. I was so adamant about pancakes, but we ended up splitting a massive chicken parm.
• M pouting over agonizing eye wear choices at the chic and friendly Eye Dare office.
• M demonstrated her best DeNiro squint and a delicious graham cracker.
• Boots the kitten comes when we call her over. So does Scab. And Pimp Gandalf, but not Blanket.
• Pretty damn good chicken parm for a 24-hour diner. Plus, cute gay waiter boys and singing patrons.
• The creepy doll that greets you at Sparky’s.
• Some street art/porn to keep the Valencia sidewalk extension project construction workers* motivated.
• The mystery palm that showed up overnight in our little garden. Weird!

This is the day we walked over 3 miles! I really, really love our meandering walks through the Mission and surrounding ‘hoods like Bernal, Noe and Castro. We pop in and out of cute shops and boutiques, we giggle, we eat, we drink, we cross a few items off of our To Do list, we people watch, we peruse real estate, we mussy-sikk, we’re RIDICULOUS. It’s just completely spontaneous, unplanned bliss, and neither of us cares much that we said we’d be here or there or “should” be somewhere else. It’s what the best weekends are made of!

What are your best weekends made of in your neighborhood? (Otherwise, let’s face it, we’d all say something absurd like BORA BORA!)

*I am sure this is not the official name of the project.
**My ankles don’t even BELONG to me, they’re so shockingly white. No, seriously. Look at them. What the hell?!

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:

Palettes! THESE ARE A LOT OF COLORS. But it works.

I’ve had this really fabulous Kenneth Cold necklace forever and as far as I can tell, it’s made a single, sad little appearance on this blog.

I still remember buying it!

M & I were at this amazing, super industrial outlet store near our old place – in its heyday, I’d leave with an armful of shoes, and its slow decline saddened me – and I saw it in the glass case. The brown leather is unbelievably supple and buttery, and the little pearls randomly strewn through out this textured silver, well, I died. Of course, I took it home, never once suspecting it’d end up around my waist one day.

I love it this way and probably ought to have more faith in its construction, but I was a little afraid all my rigorous running around and climbing up and down rickety old stepladders might break it. It turns out fate would take care of that for me, when I spilled a shitload of cooking oil all over the front of the dress whilst preparing for dinner with poor scientist. will blog for food, requiring a head-to-toe wardrobe change.

It happens to the best of us, right? Or maybe just me. Hm.

Hey, are you voting daily? You know, to help FFAF win a richly deserved 2009 Lezzy Award? WELL, GEEZ, GET VOTING ALREADY!

It is Friday! Pardon my weeklong absence, dear readers. I’ve missed you!

We are upon a three-day holiday weekend, which is wonderful because I’ve scarcely had time enough to recover from the last.

Last night M & I celebrated five years, to the day, of the exact night that we met, with French 75s and premature Valentine’s Day candies.

Yesterday morning I woke up (late, of course, bangs sticking straight up, shuffling sleepily from the bedroom to the french press and my – well, M’s – laptop) to a world without Lee Alexander McQueen, a true genius, a would-be visionary, a brilliant legend. Ever the late bloomer, I explained to a dear friend that it wasn’t until it dawned on me that I was a lesbian, at long last in my very early twenties, when I truly became interested in fashion. Not in any deliberate, studied way, at least not that I can remember. So it’s really just the last decade or so that I have lived with this heightened sense of it all, the awe and skepticism and obscurity and blatantness.

It is more than enough time to recognize that the man was really and truly something else. It’s not fair to lose that mind and all the incredible, staggering, in-your-face beauty it produced. Loving what he made often required you to bend and twist your mind in ways other designers haven’t and won’t, and I’ll miss it all dearly.

You were beautiful and terrible, McQueen.

Y’all love hard on Sunday, you hear?!?!

Because I said so.

PS. Silly me. The ring is also Laundry by Shelli Segal and the gloves are vintage.

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!

This week has flown by and dragged on at the same time, hasn’t it? In any case, it’s just about Friday and I can get down with that. Today, I saw a man just hanging out with his chicken (like, an actual living chicken) on Van Ness Avenue, leaning against a street sign wanting money or something and catching some of the fleeting sunshine we had today after days and days of rain or drizzle or haze or fog or slick, slick wet.

It was especially strange because I am in the middle of a short story collection called Instant City (it’s Issue No. 6 and I picked it up from one of my favorite vintage / antique shops, Gypsy Honeymoon – the black dress in the back would fit me perfectly, I can tell just by looking at it and it is a DREAM made of wondrous elegance and vaporous black chiffon. The lady who owns or runs it or both has little birdies in there chirping happily and she is a very sweet sort of flower child – Stevie Nicks type), by and about San Francisco writers, and most of the vignettes feature these sort of random, only-in-San-Francisco scenes and stolen moments. So much so that before I told this story I had to really think about whether or not I read it or truly saw them, but I promise you that I saw them with my own eyes.

On that note, I would like to know if it’s wrong of me to have zero desire to eat at that Tommy’s Sandwich Joint (Joynt?).

BACK TO THE CLOTHES. I love these shoes. I love these socks. They serve no practical purpose, in fact, they’re kind of scratchy and that irritates me, but they’re so damn sassy. Here’s the modcloth.com Crewel scarf again, this time paired with a kicky little suede + fringe Lonesome Dove pendant in a forest green, and this amazing black satchel that I am newly in love with. My new bangs and I got into a bit of a tussle this morning, clearly, and they went all Peggy from Mad Men on me (damn cowlick), but I am mostly pleased!

So, who’s got big plans this weekend? We have none, nada, which is spectacular as we’re going to need lots of R&R before our next round of fabulous house guests arrive next weekend. It will be epic.