I’m so sick of hearing about San Francisco’s wintry summers. I’m so sick of feeling them. I trek downtown each day, then float a few dozen stories up into the sky where I watch the dull gray tendrils lap lackadaisically against the other skyscrapers in the fleeting pauses of my work, watch it all come lumbering over the gentle slopes of Nob and Russian Hills and swirl and settle quietly in the tides of the bay. In the dead center of July.

The tomboy gets into her little car, ambles down the freeway into Silicon Valley, and bemoans having left the house in a blazer because it’s 20 degrees warmer there, and the sun is shining, and you can’t see a lick of fog anywhere, not even if you squint as hard as you can and picture me pouting mightily from where I sit.

Today, I had to wear this shirt with a cardigan and a brocade coat with a vintage fur collar. It was very dreadful.

I remember when I told loved ones I was planning to vacation in New Orleans in the dead center of July eight or more years ago. They thought I was out of my fucking mind. They were very wrong. I loved the heat, I was delighted that my ice cream melted faster than I could eat it at 10AM, giddy about the thunderstorms that swept briefly in to curse you and left just as quickly (and the river frothing), I couldn’t wait until it cooled down in the wee hours of the morning (and even then only by a few scarcely detectable degrees), when it was safe to sit outside with your beignets and Au Laits at Cafe Du Monde before stumbling back to the hotel.

That’s a goddamn summer. Don’t even get me started on summers in Barcelona.

Tomboy: Seven jeans, Vox shoes, Volcom shirt, Banana Republic blazer, H&M tie. Bulleit bourbon, of course.
Femme: Skirt from the Painted Bird, suspenders from Buffalo Exchange (and made in Germany, of all places), boots by Bandolino, Truly Madly Deeply v-neck. Leggings from The Rack.

I had to wear this dress again as soon as possible, even if it was cold and I had to layer like my life depended on it. (There was a black cardigan under this denim jacket, too.) Our special edition Pride 2010 Cockblock handkerchiefs came in the mail! M was so excited. I got one, too, and they each came with goodies from Good Vibes, too. Hotsauce.

Dress by Fire LA, boots from Buffalo Exchange, thrifted belt, Cockblock handkerchief, Old Navy denim jacket, leggings from The Rack, earrings from the Global Exchange store.

Today I scored an amazing vest of House of Hengst. Prepare yourselves!

Praise Dolly! The sun came out in a glorious way today! Not in that wintry, deceptive, incapable-of-penetrating-the-chill way, but in an honest-to-God Springtime sort of way. It was lovely. To be completely honest, I’ve been wearing this dress around the house like a muumuu or house dress, or a hearty old slip, so when it was time to put on proper clothes, I just tossed on the leggings and jacket and scooped my hair into a ponytail. Voila! It felt sinful and fantastic.

When we stepped out onto our little street to take these photos (M is really coming into her own as a style photographer), the kittens were out, the trees were green, bumblebees buzzed, I sipped my whiskey sour and reapplied my very red Besame lipstick with very red nails. Spring and I went at it hot and heavy. Alas, I fear the cold will come and go until it warms back up in earnest, but that’s OK. Today was wonderful.

So, spit it out! What are your big Valentine’s Day plans? We’re going to be lazy bears until the early evening, with small bites and cocktails at Annabelle’s and then to a “Share The Love” party being thrown by a friend of hers and her loverbird. It should be dreamy!

Of course, FFAF wouldn’t even be worth if not for y’all, so here’s a big wet lipstick-y femme kiss from me to you! XO!

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.

Happy hump day, y’all! I am ever so slightly under the weather with a bit of a head cold, but otherwise life is just lovely. The sun came out again today and despite the fact that I can scarcely breathe, I decided it was midweek and FFAF needed some action. I’ve been living in this outfit, as it’s not too cold here lately, but it’s not warm by any means, either. This is a nice balance because it’s super comfortable, and a great excuse to rock some color, too. I’ll admit I’d hardly given Spring a second thought until yesterday and all the Groundhog Day activity! The internets, they do not let you forget. My head is far too stuffed to continue on in any meaningful way, so let’s make a list of shows I’m obsessed with at present:

1. LOST, because it’s bananas:

2. The Tudors really needs to hurry up and get back on the air already. Sex, violence, religion, politics, corsets. Need I say more?

3. The Pacific, which is a new miniseries coming to HBO this March, a sort of complement to Band Of Brothers, which I really, really loved and always watch whenever it’s on. I need to own it. Maybe they’ll create an amazing box set with both series after The Pacific premieres.

4. Big Love is the show I want to be addicted to, but I’m not quite there yet. It’s in the queue! M & I watched an episode or two awhile back and were pretty ambivalent about it, but have since been convinced by friends that we need to start from the beginning and give it some time. (This better not be like True Blood, y’all!)

5. Last but not least, Grey’s Anatomy. This one is all my BFF’s fault. I’ve mocked her incessantly for years about this show. I’ve spent countless Friday mornings rolling my eyes over coffee while she went on and on about Izzy this, McDreamy that and last season, we somehow got sucked in. Unbelievable. Now we have the video game. Yang, of course, is our favorite, and now I know exactly what the BFF means when she says, “You’re my person.”

Saturday began innocently enough. We woke up, put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven for breakfast, watched a bit of BBC’s Pride & Prejudice and set out for the East Bay to find M some skater shoes. While I found an excellent new jacket and an adorable ski cap with hearts on it, M ran into one dead end after another with the shoes. To add insult to injury, Buffalo Exchange sent her into a homo panic and some persnickety baby dyke with no manners and a lot of attitude looked me up and down obscenely (and repeatedly) enough to solicit M’s wrath. It wasn’t pretty, but no blows were exchanged. Having had it with Oakland, we returned to SF and freshened up for our date.

Contigo Kitchen + Cava, a cozy tapas restaurant in Noe Valley with a strangely appealing lime green and firewood motif, didn’t open until 5:30PM, so we popped into a few shops and grabbed a warm-up round of pleasant enough cocktails at Bliss bar. DINNER WAS AMAZING. We had the pork belly, lamb shoulder and patatas bravas, and M & I both tried hazelnuts for the first time. They were delicious, as well as the cheese plate and prosciutto (the sheep’s milk was my favorite). It began to rain and as we wrapped up dinner, a few friends invited us out for drinks at a lesbian party at a gay club in the Castro. Much debauchery ensued, and I almost immediately stripped off the cardigan, leggings and coat when we walked in, it was that hot.

Strangely, we seemed to know everyone there. It was like one big, unending jovial reunion of sorts, and boozy texts to have even more friends join us were successful, making everything that much more epic. We woke up in relatively little pain this morning, but were USELESS in our attempt to gather coffee and other supplies, and yet managed to procure M some skater shoes. FINALLY. They are Vox (and from an awesome skate shop called Cruz on Mission) and she is pleased, so I am pleased. As promised, after lunch (desert fries, yum) she took me to see Nine at the Castro Theater. Neither of us had ever been there before, so it was extra-dreamy and romantical. (I wish I could say the same for the movie!)

The storms kept us from a spontaneous trip to the snow, but hopefully y’all have had equally exciting holiday weekends. One more day to go! Whee!

Please to meet the wonderfully brilliant and gorgeous Kate. She came to stay with us for a few days and we had some excellent SF adventures together. The photos above are from a nice little walkabout we had through the Mission, in search of carnitas by the pound, chili/salt/lemon-drenched mango slices and Humphrey’s Secret Breakfast ice cream. It was overcast and cold, but we bundled up and dragged our hungover asses through the Mission and were met with much success (and an angry drunk, but that is neither here nor there). We stopped to take a few photos by some of the many, many amazing murals that can be found in our ‘hood.

Below, you’ll find Kate & I all sassed up and ready to go dancing. The tomboy snapped these before an epic night of Osha Thai (Kate ordered this massive fried rice dish served in half a pineapple! We all drank lychee cocktails!), a George Michael singalong at the Lexington and shaking what our mama gave us at Cockblock. It was all very wonderful and we had enough fun for the entire mafia. And then some.

CONFESSION: Today marked a very important day in our new San Francisco life. (We just realized that we recently breezed past our six-month anniversary living here! Good heavens, that went by ultra-fast.) After a cursory search on yelp.com, we selected a barber shop for M. It’s been that long since she’s had a haircut! She adored her lady in Oakland’s Rockridge ‘hood, and was skeptical about whether or not she could be replaced without paying dues in the way of a bad cut, obnoxious stylists or an overpriced hipster salon. She’d been growing it out per my request, but it wasn’t cut in a way that was meant to be grown out, per se, so she’s starting from scratch. What sold us on this particular barber were the following reviews:

• No gabbing! No chit-chat! No small talk! If you want a hug and some hippie tea, one reviewer hissed, go somewhere else. It’s straight to business here, and that is rad.
• Plenty of gay porn to peruse while you’re waiting! Well, Christ. Do I even need to keep listing reasons?
• Not only have they been in the Castro for 20+ years, they have a 4+ star rating. Word.

So at 1PM today, M got a crazy fast, efficient, and very serious and handsome haircut in a barbershop where the classic barber pole’s stripes are made of bandannas and rainbow flags adorn the walls, and yes, I admired some gay porn while she was in the chair. It was superior to any of ours and I suppose I should have snagged one. Drats! (I’m kidding. Stealing is bad.) You’re going to have to wait to see her new ‘do, but to amuse you in the interim, here was her inspiration (ignore Jake G.’s dopey mug, please):

PS. If any tomboys have tips on how to train a part into hair, please let us know in the comments! M is also on the hunt for a new product or two for this type of style – she doesn’t think her American Crew pomade is going to cut it anymore, and I’m trying to get her to try my Jonathan Dirt Texturizing Paste, but the more options, the better. Thanks, yo.

CONFESSION: My mama’s vintage scarf again. I love it anew. I know y’all have seen this same GD LBD 84,000 times before, but not this epic wool pea coat from DKNY, all sharp and boxy. I like it a lot paired with the shoes. We had to dress up for a tea dance with friends last Saturday and I just wanted to be warm and comfortable without that meaning jeans, etc. I hope y’all are making do on the Monday back after a long and lovely holiday weekend: I’m happy to report that I scored 5 tops and 2 skirts for…let’s see, appx. $15 at the thrift store. Best picks are a Kensie sweater in a perfect shade of asparagus green ($2.50), a NWT drape-y, vintage tank in cobalt blue lamé ($1.50) and a floral print corduroy Esprit miniskirt ($4). It will be tempting to wear them all at once!

CONFESSION: Impromptu FFAF photo shoots are the best. We were on our way to BART to catch Where The Wild Things Are downtown, when we passed this relatively empty laundromat. It was so much fun, right down to jumping into one of the carts, playing shooter games and the old-timey Soap Stop (below). I realize the key missing component is the fact that we were just passing through, not doing any actual laundry (which I abhor), but still. SUPERFUN.

I cried and cried and cried through not only the trailers (that Sandra Bullock one and the Baby(ies) documentary – have you seen or heard of it? – it’s about the first year of life for four babies being raised in four very different corners of the world; San Francisco, Mongolia, Nambia and Japan), but through a bunch of the scenes in the movie as well. It was so great. I loved it. Max was fantastic.

SCENT: I really want this Victoria’s Secret experiment to be over and done with. You know, just the other day I was recalling my past refusal to walk away from something until I was absolutely convinced I had exhausted every available option (and unavailable, for that matter) and how absurd, unnecessary and masochistic it was, and this experiment is giving me the nagging s(c)en(t)sation that old habits die hard. So, it’s much too late to undo today’s torture, but I cannot promise completion at this juncture, folks.

Without further ado, I give you Dream Angels Divine and Very Sexy Hot. The former is awful and harsh. If powder settled into crepe-y skin could be bottled and made into a WMD, Divine is it. Vile. VS Hot comes out with a few intriguing top notes – marigold, freesia, berry (note again the lack of specificity regarding type)- but never softens into something softer and more complex, it just stays sharp and not in a good way.

HISSYFIT CONFESSION: Last night M saunters in from her poker game at work, grinning even though she didn’t win, a bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte in hand (they give her one every year on her anniversary), talking about how she was invited at the last minute to a work excursion ON A YACHT for a CHAMPAGNE LUNCH during the first real BLUE ANGELS SHOW of FLEET WEEK on the bay. It was for everyone on the team of a specific project she wasn’t on, but had put in so much work on that they wanted to include her, which is super awesome. Not so awesome? She couldn’t take me with her, obviously! Pout, pout, pout.

No matter that I’d been geeking out on the air shows all day long and had pretty much memorized the schedule. Thursday, noon – practice. Friday, 2PM – practice, 3PM – show. Saturday…you get the picture. Anyway, I decided to put my big girl panties on and go with her today no matter what. My plan was to send her off and then find a nice spot on the wharf somewhere to watch all by lonesome. With a flask, preferably. M threatened to kill me if I let any hot tomboy pilots pick me up and take me for a ride, though, so there went that plan! (Pfft…whatever happened to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell?)

Tune back in tomorrow for more pics and the rest of the story. Yes, I’m a tease. I know. But the tomboy just made a round of cosmos and it’s urgent. And guess what?! Sunday = cowgirls, go-carts and In & Out for a very special birthday girl’s celebrations. It’s going to be a good weekend, y’all. Have fun!