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The last hurrah for my bright white linen tunic! I love the pintucks and the rolled-up sleeves. This was a few weekends ago, when M & I decided to go hunting for treasures at the Alemany Flea, and boy did we find treasures! Mine are too numerous to count, though my new brown lace-up booties are at the top of the list, and M’s is featured below.

Here are some hints:

It’s politically incorrect.
It’s made of leather.
It’s vintage.

Any guesses?

This makes no sense, I realize, but there was a half-broken chair just lying in a alley and so I had to finish breaking it. I just had to.

Even Scab the Cat agrees, you see?

Are you still guessing?

You know what else doesn’t make sense? THIS MURAL. What the hell?!?! It’s a near-naked lady riding a snaggle-tooth pig-hippo thing. Maybe she’s even nude. WHO CAN SAY. This lady. Also, her foundation doesn’t match her body. It’s too dark. SWATCH THAT ISH IN NATURAL LIGHT, FOR GOOD GRIEFS! Sigh.

IT’S A HOLSTER! A very handsome holster in supple leather made right in Texas, thanks. And do you know what M did the night she got it? She put it on over her manties (like Whitney, but different), and slept in it. I would awaken lightly in the night and M & I would rotate our spoons in the other direction, and I’d get a lovely whiff of tomboy skin + leather, and do you know what that combination does, ladies?

Yes. Yes, you do.

It makes femmes desperately, inconsolably horny.

Well, not inconsolably. But it’ll take awhile. The consoling and such.

Hi. Console me. Accessory city, good grief! Let’s break this down, femme-style:

Camel-y suede ruched boots: Buffalo Exchange
Leggings: Nordstrom Rack
Tunic: Banana Republic
Belt, Bag, Earrings: Vintage
Mini-purse: Modcloth
Watch: Guess face w/ vintage wristband

M wears a Fyasko shirt with BDG jeans and Etnies sneakers. Aldo sunglasses. Vintage .357 revolver gun holster.

The pics above are from an excellent little block party we stumbled upon after the flea-marketing. Amazing quesadillas fresh from the grill, paired perfectly with homemade sangria, a cheeky poet at an old typewriter writing custom poetry, a nice band, friendly folks, cute dogs and a fierce bean bag competition. Which I won, natch.

When I was little, I read like a fiend. The librarian let me check my own stacks out. I’d emerge from the doors of my sleepy little library with a pile of books in my arms that teeter-tottered above my line of sight. When I was little and my family would nestle into a cabin high up in Trinity Alps each summer, I’d see one of those logging trucks with unbelievably massive bundles of cut trees on the road, and I’d burst into tears. Such a wee hippie! I don’t think I ever made the connection, nor did the hypocrisy occur to me then. I reckon this is a fine example of the blissful ignorance of youth.

Years later and I’ve still a deep, abiding fondness for books, and for cabins tucked into wilderness.

Places like Powell’s become a little wonderland.

I think during our very brief stay in Portland we ended up at Powell’s three times! I invested in a super bright book light, which is spectacularly nerdy but, like, I needed one for the road. The staff recommendations were really fun and the little rainbow flags were quite helpful in identifying The Gay. This location is called the City of Books, and as the website says, it’s the “largest used and new bookstore in the world…occupying an entire city block, the City stocks more than a million new and used books. Nine color coded rooms house over 3,500 different sections, offering something for every interest, including an incredible selection of out-of-print and hard-to-find titles.” I came dangerously close to dropping hundreds of dollars on big, weighty, beautiful books, but the limited space in our car and luggage anchored me to my better judgment.

(But seriously, when is it ever a BAD thing to buy another book? N E V E R.)

M very sweetly paused to snap these in the fashion section.

Riding Pants: The Gap
Tank: Nordstrom Rack
Denim: Old Navy
Vintage Scarf, Boots: Rock n’ Rose (Portland, OR)
Bag: Betsey Johnson

Damn this SF second coming of winter. It’s revolting! All I have to keep me warm is a tomboy, two pups and the Hot 100 list of real queer girls at Autostraddle. I suppose it’ll all have to do. All that and some thick leggings. Leggings.

Anyway, I wore this outfit to the post-fight party we attended on Saturday night. It’s a great little thrifted dress also written up here, topped by my snazzy little blazer and a sedate side ponytail. It was a hit! I got compliments from strangers in line at Mitchell’s Ice Cream (fetching a delicious Mexican chocolate ice cream cake for the guest of honor) and party-goers alike. I really, really wish I’d gotten a photograph of the Noam Chomsky tote bag this one girl had, it was kind of AMAZEBALLS.

I didn’t actually fall asleep in this stairwell. It was an early night. Want details, dear readers? OKEEDOKEE:

Dress, thrifted
Blazer, Paper Doll Clothing L.A.
Leggings, Nordstrom Rack
Shoes, Modcloth
Bag, Betsey Johnson
Belt, NO IDEA (maybe Buffalo Exchange)
Black Onyx Pendant, vintage

THE EYELASHES ARE ALL FRESH FIREBIRD + SUPERNOVA ACTION, YO.

Sometimes I really stick my head where it should not go.
Like into tiny puppy houses.

Did I mention that M might bring me some creamsicle kittens tomorrow? It’s true. She might.

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:

CONFESSION: I suspect that this could be the very first time I’ve added actual COLOR to this dress. How foolish! Now I can’t wait to pair it with a yellow belt or a bright red coat. I had a stroke of genius and took this cameo ring – which is much too big for my skinny little fingers and which belongs to M (it’s too big for her, too – little know fact: our fingers are the same size, give or take half a size…that sounds pervy, I guess, for a lesbian blog, but I meant it in terms of pretty little baubles) – and just looped the scarf ends through twice to secure it snugly. Now when I’m thrifting or antique shopping and find a ring I’ve fallen in love with but am too tiny for, I’ll buy it anyway, because I really love this look.

Two nice things from today:

1. After a work meeting and some errands, I popped into Noe Valley and treated myself to a nice Italian lunch. I woke up in a bit of a funk this morning, and it went away almost instantly over a giant plate of creamy fettucine alfredo, garlic bread, a single glass of champagne and a good book.
2. Success regarding workout clothing at Nordstrom Rack today: A cozy new Reebok track suit thingee in a nice, rich shade of charcoal that didn’t break my bank (nothing sparkly or vulgar scrawled across the ass! nothing so absurdly tight that panty lines would show even if I went without panties at all! nothing in a shitty, fug print!) and three baby t-shirts and a tank top for appx. $6 each! HAWT. I will admit, however, to buying dark grey eyeliner. For all my strength, a gleaming ribbon of weakness.

Before I say good night, thanks to all the folks who offered words of wisdom regarding workout clothes here or elsewhere! Y’all are rad. XO!

CONFESSION: Yeah, so, I borrowed the petite’s thing. It’s freezing, and since wearing these soft flannel thingees that are all the rage (or were 9 mos. ago …9 mos. ago since the 90s, anyway) is the girly equivalent of wearing a Snuggie, I FEEL THAT IT IS PERFECTLY ALRIGHT. Besides, if the worst I can look is like some sad chaperone at an Avril Lavigne concert or a (cough, choke) Mission hipster, then so be it. It’s cold. Comfort first! When you start seeing Crocs and fleece, then come and beat my face in. Until then, I console myself with the fact I wore dresses for over a week straight in the delicious sunshine, while it lasted. Either our pretty visitor from NYC took the sun back with her or something heinous dragged the fog back in on Monday, but there it is. Sigh.

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