fitforafemme.com

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.

Confession: Y’all? These are fancy new pictures from my fancy new camera! Except they aren’t that fancy yet, because I am only on page 30-something in the manual, which is very…well, let’s just say that I think I’m supposed to create a custom menu for every possible mode combination and that is HARD.

I’m still figuring out what the hell is what! Even with the automatic, point-and-shoot settings, I hope you can tell the difference! I’ll get better real soon, I swan. One last thing? Good LORD it’s gonna take some getting used to that this camera is so sharp it picks up: stray dog hairs, dust, imperfections on my fussy ass skin (I have a threading appt. tomorrow, shut up!), etc. See how crispy the non-reflection stuff is compared to the reflection? MAYBE M SHOULD CLEAN HER SIDE OF THE MIRROR, GUYS.

The second order of business for today (and I know it’s lovely all across the whole country today, but this post is for nibbles over the weekend, hence the title) is to say YEEHAW, M & I got featured on yesterday’s Queer Eye Candy. Check us out here.

Queer Eye Candy is a neat little blog that gives you fresh queer meat to nom on every day, and who can say no to that?

PS. I ran into the bathroom in a feisty huff after reading M’s comment about the bathroom sink(s), to prove my point via photo. Well, after taking a good, long look at the state of things, two things are clear:

1. There are no winners here.
2. Please, God, if you love me at ALL you won’t make me move into a 1-bathroom come June. Please.
3. Honestly? Honestly, three bathrooms would be best for all parties involved. This prevents me from scarring someone with a hot roller.

When: TGIFriday, Jan. 9th, 2008.

Femme What: Sheer floral t-shirt by Shameless, black jumper by French Toast, vintage silk polka dot scarf, rand-o tights and necklace-cum-belt from unmemorable origin. Black leather and wool sweater by BCBG Max Azria and boots by Lamica.

Femme Scent: Caron’s Coup de Fouet – Eau De Cologne Poivrée. It’s described as being a unisex fragrance, a “refreshing fragrance on a base of rose and carnation, accentuated with a hint of pepper.”

The intensity is overwhelming at first application. It’s spicy, almost tangy and thick with cloves, even swerving for a few moments dangerously close to potpourri. All this underneath a cloud of something medicinal. It does dry down into something much softer, and the floral gradually undulates, but all so stubbornly. The staying power is good. M said that it smells like a “scent blocker” – like it’s hiding something else, or used to cover up something. The translation is “crack the whip,” which I rather like, but this merely makes me feel perplexed, but in a sort of rabid, obsessive way.

Maybe they meant it that way. Caron, cracking the whip at all the femmes since 1957! Word.

Femme Confession: I’m seriously having some critical and urgent hair dysmorphia, y’all. M is sick of me whining about it. She’s given up trying to reassure me that my ends look just fine and simply rolls her eyes at me and tells me that I have mental problems and might want to seek help. My friends coo reassurances. I, however, continue to jump into pools of harsh light like a spastic frog or insect, grabbing a lock of hair and staring unblinking and with disgust at my split ends. It’s fucking untenable. I recently gave a lovely FFAF reader a list of salons in our area without so much as skipping a heartbeat and my BFF is absolutely thrilled with her new hair, which I helped to advise yesterday. I, however, remain homeless, salon-wise.

YOU CAN’T HELP SOMEONE WHO WON’T HELP THEMSELVES. CRY.

Tomboy What: Brixton ‘Hooligan’ plaid hat (which everyone loves and tells me they love it, including total strangers in the elevator), awesome almost-worn-in RVCA jeans, brownish-green hoodie from Express for Men, blue T-shirt from the GAP and brown boots by Aldo.

Tomboy Scent: John Varvatos Vintage cologne. Do you want to smell fancy and ruggedly handsome, like a polo player or a fighter jet pilot? This is the scent for you! Not too clean, not too dirty, definitely handsome, but a quiet handsome, not the chatty, attention-whorey handsome! Top notes and description as follows: “Brisk Moroccan coastal plants spiked with piquant fruits, cinnamon tree leaves, pepper, lush florals, smooth woods, and Turkish tobacco make this scent truly unforgettable.”

Tomboy Confession: I sneaked out for a fancy hot dog for lunch today, even though it takes me forever to get there and back, because they are THAT good! It pisses me off that they are so far, and that they only accept cash and that it’s in the middle of a stupid mall, BUT I STILL GO THERE! Today, I find that prices have gone up some 25% for a hot dog, but you know what? I will probably be going back sooner or later. Sucker!