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We took these yesterday, when the ground was still soft and wet from Saturday’s rainstorms. I was still recovering from all the fun we had at the Wild Flag show at Great American Music Hall in San Francisco.

After so many years of seeing lots of amazing shows in the Bay Area, GAMH is hands-down the winner. It’s over a hundred years old and lovingly restored despite its seat in the less than desirable Tenderloin, it always feels incredibly intimate but never awkwardly so (like at Cafe du Nord or Bottom of the Hill – both definitely great, but not in the same league as GAMH), its got food and well-made drinks and just feels comfortable. I walk in there and it somehow feels homey to me.

WILD FLAG! They were really, really perfect. I haven’t danced like that in ages. Everyone was amazing, but Carrie especially so – there was a lovely amount of cheerful bantering with the audience, and she’d would bounce back and forth from being very deeply and seriously draped over her guitar to being unable to suppress infectious ear-to-ear grins that we all lapped up like drunk kittens. I wish I could have asked her where she got her blouse. It was really gorgeous on her.

There was plenty of slithery slithering of guitar parts and a line about hair-pulling in a new song which nearly killed me and trademark Carrie-kicks and the exceptional Racehorse went on for like 20 minutes and I. didn’t. want. it. to. ever. stop. Ever. I think I’m mildly whip-lashed from working it out so hard during the show. Perfect, perfect, perfect. 

The audience was, as expected, heavily queer. For instance, I bonded with another femme over our identical cowgirl bags and we ran into some friends whilst foraging for a bite or two. I managed to scare off the one rude (and very tall) hipster who tried to elbow his way in front of us right in the middle of the show. M bought one of the band’s t-shirts – it’s so awesome, wait until you see it! – and I had a major fangirl moment (aside from this entire post), but I refuse to bore you with the details. When the show ended, we took off for a midnight adventure by-the-sea under a sky full of stars, and slept like babies once we were home and tucked into bed.

Trusty, Rusty Corduroys: Gap
Fringed Pony Tank: Lovebyrd
Denim Shirt ,Fur Collar: Vintage
Calf-Hair Wedge Boots: Adrienne Vittadini
Necklace: Galibardy
Earrings: Betsey Johnson

Hope everyone had wonderful weekends and remembered to Fall Back. Posting daily sure is kicking my ass, but surely somewhere in all this is an effective lesson on self-discipline, right?

Cheers,

FFAF

How did things even work before Google calendar? I mean, I’ve used Moleskine diaries more or less for the past ten years but I cannot recall the act – outside of business – of consulting it for my personal or social life. I know I’ve documented things in them (kept most of them, actually – I’m a bit of a packrat when it comes to paper) – but I certainly have no memory of coming home on a Friday night and musing over my entries to see what I had committed to that weekend.

This is all to say that last night at ten to eight, whilst standing in line at Trader Joe’s after happy hour cocktails, my phone alerted me to the fact that we had a show to be at in ten minutes. I was shocked. I’d forgotten about it completely! How could I?! It was Wild Flag! I love Wild Flag.

Long story short, we ended up with tickets to their show tonight instead – we’re lucky they’re playing two nights. I probably would have breezed through the whole weekend without realizing it if it weren’t for Google calendar (and my Android phone).

Or maybe I should digress back into good old pen on paper, after all.

Now to the outfit at hand. Say hello again to my awesome bear tights from Latvian designers QooQoo. The cold is sticking for now, we’ve got rain predicted all weekend, and I’ve got firewood (and books) stacked and ready to go just as soon as it starts to rain. Between that, a kettle of Earl Grey and pumpkin muffins baking in the oven, it’s going to smell like heaven in here very soon.

SWEATER DRESSES ARE HERE TO STAY, HOORAY!

Slow-mo hair toss.

The dress is H&M and I’ve got another in a soft, peachy cream shade. I cinched in the waist with an Yves Saint Laurent obi belt in black suede, and popped on my cuffed and studded black suede ankle boots by Trouvé. The fur collars are vintage, and the big black Union Jack bag in leather is from Betsey Johnson.

Let’s talk about nail polish! I’ve been doing all kinds of super basic but really fun nail designs myself. This set is all Zoya polishes: Cynthia (smoky, blackened peacock teal) with Jinx (warm, coppery bronze) for the tips. I love the color combination. The (truly, truly, truly) outrageous feather earring is from Macy’s and came in a pair, but it’s best to wear just one at a time. I got the nudie friendship bracelet from a lovely gal at Indie Mart here in SF, the ring from Pretty Penny in Oakland, and that’s it!

Have a cozy weekend, y’all.

/FFAF

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: What a doozy of a weekend. The week prior? So-so. Taking tentative steps after my brink-of-death sickness and whatnot. I did manage to accomplish the following, I am happy to say:

• Making a delicious dish of scalloped potatoes from scratch
• Horseback riding in some semi-regular capacity on the cheap (I tried, got shot down – but I tried!)
• Finishing a re-read of Ayn Rand’s Anthem, which started in the tub last night
• Forgave myself for getting rid of an ashy purple velvet blazer and an asymmetrical dresses years ago

Back to the weekend! The lovely Kelly Alice (a dear friend) came to visit from back East, and we enjoyed fantastic conversation over breakfast, freshly baked Pithivier from Trader Joe’s with Peerless coffee, followed by noontime French 75s (with a few drops of rosewater, so lovely). KA was sort of shocked that I’d never really flat-ironed my hair before, so she busted hers out  – some fancy Solia model we heated right up to 450°F – and went to town on my glossy locks. It was amazing! We headed to Mango (an awesome lesbian tea dance on a lush patio featuring salsa and hip-hop with free BBQ) all dolled up with the tomboy on our arm and had a fantastic time.

Afterward, we took her to one of our favorite Mission restaurants and then, of course, to the obligatory stop at SF’s Lexington Club, the city’s only 24/7 lesbian bar. It’s a great dive with a super rad jukebox. (Note: The bartenders overrode my Patsy Cline pick, which pissed me off.) M & I danced, not that anyone else did (as per usual). Someone wanted to know what kind of shampoo I use. It was a great night!

Yesterday, we popped up to my mom’s house for a birthday party and had a lovely evening where dozens of family secrets were aired out in hilarious and hilariously tragic circumstances, and I had a beef bourguignon that changed my life. Alas, after a screwy Monday, I’m ready to get back to weekend shenanigans! Surely I’m not alone. XO!

PS. My kitten! The black one with the little white boots. She loves me so so so so so so so so much. She’s suicidal for me, even. M had to chase her back home because she tried to follow us into the street! When I come walking down the street, she comes bounding toward me out of nowhere to greet me and purr and rub against my legs. So precious. I love her so. She brought a friend over and they came into the house and miraculously, neither dog bit their heads off!

PPS. Drool.

When: Saturday, Feb. 21st, 2009.

What: James Cured Jeans, black short-sleeved shirt and skull-and-crossbones scarf by H&M. Vintage leather gloves and fur coat, assorted studded leather belts and “ice” necklace-as-bracelet from local boutiques. Leather boots by Lamica. Keyhole pendant by Pennyroyal Silver.

Confession: Poor M is sick. It’s been a lazy gray day indoors, and we grazed on a mid afternoon spread of spicy hummus, pita bread, grapes, white cheddar popcorn and cava. Last night we stayed up late to watch The White Stripes on Conan, and woke up today only to venture out for a Trader Joe’s run and some coffee and pastries at Peaberry’s.

I was a little bit surprised at how bloody fragile Jack White was last night – why was he crying? It can’t possibly be due to the occasion. I wonder if it’s because it’s the first time he’s performed with Meg in one and a half years. I know they were paid to do it, but maybe he just didn’t know when they’d ever perform together again, or how it’d make him feel when they did. So emotional! (Some local gals might remember that lesbian party. I do!) Whatever. I have no idea and I’m probably thinking way too hard about it, but it was tendercome and it made me happy.

Here it is, in case you missed it (but be nice!):

When: Sunday, October 12th, 2008.

What: Gentle Fawn romper, pretty Peruvian scarf from a Bodega Bay skate shop (you just never know!), thrifted yellow sash tied into belt, Nocona cowboy boots. Embroidered, beaded clutch with purple leather trim by Dolce Vita.

Confession: I haven’t washed my hair since Friday morning. The TJ’s Mango shaving cream just might have beat out the TJ’s Tangerine Sugar Scrub. I really, truly am sick to death of this goddamn heat – you tell me – when is summer going to finally get it that it’s no longer wanted around here? Yesterday was so dry and so cold, like it is on Thanksgiving almost, with a swift, mean wind and today was just this sick, steady heat.

Thank heavens this is a four-day work week for me. The service was yesterday. I wore the same exact black dress I wore the last time Norton and I danced together. The tomboy has taken such good care of me, y’all. Last night she called our friend from Memphis for her fried chicken recipe, and she whipped it up from scratch with some homemade french fries, too. I needed comfort food real bad. Not long after eating I fell asleep on the couch and slept for 14 hours straight, though M moved me to the bed eventually. Tonight, for the first time since I’ve met her, she made me her ridiculously delicious chicken enchiladas. That’s right. In nearly four years, she hasn’t once made ‘em, but you bet they were worth waiting for.

Thanks for reading, kittens. I really do heart. ???

PS. So, Angel Island is on fire. Like, really on fire. All campers are evacuated, and no one lives there but state park rangers. It’s isolated, so it can’t spread anywhere where it’ll hurt anyone. All of that is good, though fire in general is bad, but goddamn it: