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Greetings from San Francisco Bay! While it is borderline insane / reckless / madwomanish to want to be out on the bay right now with all of this terrifying wind, I kind of want to be anyway. I mean, how exciting would it be!? All jostled and wild and free in the night! Not on a ferry, though, on something sexier and more, uh, seaworthy. I could be wrong, but ferries seem to be meant for quick, repeated jaunts back and forth short distances on mostly calm waters.

In that top top top photo, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge braced against the Pacific Ocean, on a very gloomy afternoon. Just above, behind me, you can see San Francisco. The hilly bit is Pacific Heights, I think. This is the commuter ferry, it hops from Pier 39 to Tiburon and Sausalito for a mere $21, round-trip. ($9 if you have a Clipper, such a steal. I also recommend a bag of hot baby donuts to keep you warm and happy, all smothered in cinnamon and sugar. So good.)

A very long time ago on a beautifully sunny, cool day, M & I took this very ferry to Tiburon, a teeny tiny Marin peninsula that sticks out into the bay. We wined and dined on freshly made beds on a huge, gorgeous wooden balcony overlooking the water with a most spectacular view of the city, while a DJ played Thievery Corporation-esque music in the background. On the ferry ride back, as the sun was setting and the big, heavy Fall moon rose like a sparkling jewel in the bosom of the sky over the Oakland Hills, we noticed a very sweet old couple nuzzling and holding hands on the ferry. It was so terribly romantic and tender, I thought, and M later confessed that she noticed them, too, and had secretly hoped that we’d live long enough to be like that one day together.

The obvious takeaway here is this: Ferry Dates, FTW!

The boats in Sausalito, where we went to this particular day, were kind of scattered at the far end of the island, and we stuck to the main drag for lunch and to wander around. There were so many tiny, fast little crabs hiding in these rocks I stood on. M & I tried real hard to catch one, but I chickened out and M just wasn’t quick enough!

So, outfit stuff:

Corduroys & Striped Sweater: Gap
Plaid Shirt: Full Tilt
Boots: Adrienne Vittadini
Coat: H&M
Fur Collar: Vintage
Leather Gloves: Cole Haan
Earrings: Banana Republic

And hey, like you need the reminder, but…

In this extra-exclusive FFAF post, a few dapper tomboys reveal their secrets to smelling good. Read on for two rather different takes on the world of men’s cologne and how to wear it well.

Our first portion is from G of the awesome Can I Help You, Sir? (Seriously, if you’re not reading this, you should be! It’s the adventures of G, with hot lists of swoon-worthy femmes and discussion on all things butch. RAD.)

G says: My preference is for clean, fresh or in some cases, woodsy scents with an underlying masculine feel. I tend to stay away from the spicy colognes, as they’re too heavy. I don’t want my scent to be noticed as soon as I walk in the room; I’d rather it be noticed because someone had to lean in closely to talk to me.

My top 3:

• Armani Code for Men: I think it’s the combination of the lemon and the wood that really does it for me with this scent. One of the things I like best about it is that it’s definitely masculine without being overwhelming, which is an elusive quality with all the macho colognes out there.

• Burberry Classic for Men: I really love what Burberry does with their fragrances, especially this one. It just smells great on my skin. It’s been around for a while, but it’s still one of the first ones I grab as I’m getting ready. The top notes of bergamot, cedar and amber really do it for me. I also own Burberry London, Brit and Beat, and I love them all.

• Banana Republic Slate: I love the fresh scent of this cologne, which relies basically on a blend of ginger and citrus notes. Those two together give it the a quality that is tough for me to find, which is clean AND inviting. It also just feels like a simple, easy-to-wear cologne, which I really like.

My choices also vary a bit depending on the season. These ones are all good fall/winter selections. I have different standbys in the summer that are a little lighter with more prominent citrus undertones (Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue is a favorite).

Next up is our very own M, who needs no introduction.

M says: OK! This is about colognes!

First, much like G, I treat most colognes like seasons. Summer scents are not okay in the winter, unless there’s some sort of obscene heat wave that drives all the sea lions from Pier 39 all the way to Oregon. There are a few that are transcendental, though, and can be enjoyed year round, not unlike peach cobbler (Team Pie! Niiiiiiiiiice. – SBJ).

• I like spicy  (but earthy) colognes in the fall and winter. Serge Lutens Borneo 1834 and John Varvatos Vintage are good examples. The Varvatos in particular smells like you just made an emergency landing with your prop plane in a mossy forest, survived, and so did your flask. It is quiet-handsome-action-hero-ruggedness! Tobacco, dirt, woods, gasoline, smoke!

• I am loathe to admit this, because Tom Ford is a giant dickbag, and most of his colognes reek like urinal cakes, but I really liked his Black Orchid cologne for Men. Fuck you, Tom Ford (but also: good job)! I plan to steal some from a department store so Mr Ford doesn’t profit. This makes me feel better. Anyway, why I liked it- even though he is like an attention-whorey-Vegas-casino, the cologne is more like an Olympic fencer: surprisingly subtle.

• Summer and Spring call for lighter, cleaner/fresher scents, to go with lighter clothing. Although I am all out, Creed Silver Mountain Water is my favorite. It is light and clean and not FRUITY! I don’t want to smell like food. Only food should smell like food! In fact, I have a household ban on any non-food product that smells like food (candles, soaps, cleaning products, etc). Okay, okay, I made one exception for a fig candle.

Tomboy Out!

I hope y’all enjoyed this! I sure as hell did. Now you have a whole roll call of fancy men’s cologne to get your tomboys or boy toys! (Or to try yourselves – I know I have some tough guys lurking out there!) In other news, M just smoothed a palmful of Lacoste all over the puppies. Sigh. As a bonus gift from me to you, take a peek at some covert butch stuff below – we femmes aren’t the only hoarders! – SBJ

CONFESSION A: So, last we heard, the tomboy was getting on a fancy yacht and leaving the femme behind…can you see her up there, walking away? So sad. Sad and alone. (Don’t listen for one second to that nonsense M commented about my slapping her…that was for something else and she knows it!)

CONFESSION B: As ever, all my silly pouting was for naught. Yesterday afternoon, I saw M off on her yacht  and she had a good time – the food was great, she said, and not only did they serve champagne but she had her fair share of rum & cokes, too. As they made their way toward the Golden Gate Bridge, I trekked my ass (in heels and fancy hair, of course) from Pier 3 to Pier 39 in like 10 minutes flat, marched into the first fancy restaurant I saw and very sweetly asked for a seat over the water on the second story outside. I figured it was worth a (long) shot. To my utter surprise, I was gestured in right away and seated just in time for the show to start. It was such a gorgeous, cloudless day to be on the water. I ordered a very delicious rose petal gimlet with a float of champagne to make a DIY French 75 and some tasty lunch and got my camera ready to take some pics.

Those angels wrought glorious havoc over the bay and SF skyline and Golden Gate, and I had so much fun watching it. Excepting M’s view, I couldn’t have had a better one myself. They really are something else to watch. They flew so close that one colleague of M’s almost dropped her drink in shock on the upper deck, as it tore past them. We texted each other back and forth like dorks, in total awe and, you know, because we missed each other. Like dorks.

And then it ended! Much too soon, but when I saw M’s yacht heading back toward Pier 3, I closed out my bill, stopped downstairs for some hot baby donuts and cotton candy for the petite, and met M back by the Ferry Building, where we chattered about fighter jets and our meals and cocktails and took a bunch of FFAF photos. It was a perfectly imperfect Friday!

Oh, and I took the trolley back, but only because I didn’t want the baby donuts to get cold! Clang-clang-clang!

I am so upset that I cannot get my nifty slideshow to work. I will keep at it and post as is for now. XO!

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