fitforafemme.com

What a weekend! It began quietly at home on Friday night. The girls and I piled on the couch with the puppies at our feet, delivery Indian food strewn across the coffee table, Secretariat on the widescreen. On Saturday, I cursed my Navigator all the way through the Sunset to the Castro to fetch the one and only Bevin Branlandingham of Queer Fat Femme for a lovely brunch tea.

Hm, scratch that. The weekend started early, I suppose, since we hit the town on Thursday night to check out the long lost Flourish party at Public Works in the Mission. The bar was well-stocked with many fine options and competent bartenders, and the space is really something else. Whoever put together the slideshow to benefit GLBT Historical Society did an amazing job and the photo booth fundraiser was lots of fun. We ran into many lovelies (and a few poorly behaved others) – Bevin and Miss Dylan Ryan and LISF – but catching up proved difficult over the loud music and trying to keep out the way of The Real L Word film crew! An exciting night, and the true beginning of a weekend that couldn’t come too soon!

Back to tea! It was a drizzly, gray sort of day, and I thought this dress was perfect for the weather and Tal-y-Tara, the equestrian & tea shoppe I’ve written about here a few times before. Bevin and I were headed there for civilized conversation and to film an episode of her delightful new web series called Lesbian Tea Basket. She thought I was kidding when I told her it was part polo shop, and after I chivalrously let her out in front while I found parking nearby, I found her wandering inside in absolute awe, touching all the fine pony things and blinking her big, lush eyelashes in disbelief. We sat and ordered and talked and marveled over the little fixins for tea sandwiches, the famous scones and shortbread and cookies and, of course, sipped tea. I won’t say much more but I can assure you that you’ll know when the special FFAF episode goes up!

I returned Bevin just slightly past her curfew (she was headed into the Santa Cruz mountains for the epic, overnight Hard French Winter Ball half of queer SF was at on Saturday night), and headed home. I needed to get out of this outfit (vintage dress and coat, Max Studio pumps, Alice + Olivia for Payless clutch) and into something suitable for Strikeforce, an MMA (mixed martial arts) event happening in the South Bay. M’s colleagues scored some tickets earlier in the week and it was my first time at an official fight night. I went from the pictured outfit to cowboy boots, ratty black tights, a short leather skirt, and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt under a dark wash denim jacket. I accessorized with piles and piles of mixed metal necklaces, my foxtail swinging from my purse, and red, red lips (inspired by Miss BB).

IT WAS EXCELLENT.

Amazing. I can’t wait to go again, and M said that she wants to go to a big UFC fight for her birthday this year. They shot huge, 10-ft. tall flames and fireworks from the sides of the stage whenever the fighters were announced, and the crowd was well-behaved for being at a bloodsport event. The fights weren’t bloody, but they were good. I drank beer and ate nachos and stole M’s Cracker Jacks. In a total 180, we woke up this morning and made our way to a very sweet baby shower for some friends of ours in Oakland. We all made pages for a custom baby book, played a fun game that had nothing to do with babies, ate French toast and quiche and cake, and marveled over all the hard work they’ve done on their home renovation in the past year. The rest of the day was spent in a dreamy, post-storm haze of (local) book shopping, hanging out a cafe, finding some tights to keep my gams warm, getting M a haircut, and unwinding over a low-key Italian dinner.

In fact, I have to wrap this up because M is waiting for me on the floor in front of our fireplace, with blankets and our books and pups. I hope y’all had wonderful weekends full of your favorite things, too!

XOXO,

FFAF

PS. A friend and dear reader noted that it was terribly coy of me to talk about all these books and not say what they were, and she’s right!

Here you go:

Clockwise from top right:

Revolutionary Road, Yates
The Sirens of Titan, Vonnegut
The Wild Things, Eggers
Super Sad True Love Story, Shteyngart

I already miss the World Cup. Do you?

What a love affair. There’s this great big empty space where the only traditional sport I’ve ever loved lived for 1.5 passionate, glorious weeks. (UFC and bull-riding don’t exactly count as traditional.) We shared eight games together and it just didn’t seem to matter that I knew nothing of and had no interest in soccer before at all, the Uruguay vs. Ghana game sunk its big, sweaty, dramatic teeth into my neck and I was irrevocably hooked.

M was delighted to bear witness to this newly discovered passion. She’s not a sports maniac or anything, and I do occasionally enjoy watching football and baseball (but only ever at actual games, I find the latter dreadfully banal on the television), but it’s rare and we have never been so engaged as this. When we weren’t sneaking away during lunch to watch the games during the work week (or streaming them at our desks), we’d trek to the Stray Bar on the weekend.

Being a mixed-race baby with roots in Germany and Spain, it was very difficult for me to choose a side in semifinals. Who I picked is obvious, and I chose Spain because it’s where M & I had such a dreamy courtship the first year we met. (It leaves an indelible impression on you, that kind of spectacular free-falling someplace unfamiliar.)

It was the right choice. I couldn’t drum up any feeling for Germany’s team, anyway.

The photos above were taken right around the moment when Spain won the World Cup!

I cried. I actually cried with genuine joy. Over a sport. WHAT?! (I also toasted M so heartily that I shattered her champagne flute, which is why it moves from one glass to another up there.) This is so unlike me, and now every four years M will have to make room for my whirlwind love affair with this happy sport. I apologize profusely and in advance to the shocked friends who will likely never understand it and think it the beginning of the end of Skinny, surely.

I threw this outfit together essentially at Target the night before. M & I drove some friends of ours to their local store to get some new home essentials, and I scoured like 5 departments before settling on the shorts, black tank, red button-up from the Converse line, and the contrasting handkerchiefs that M & I chose. You know it’s ardent when I willfully don the ill-advised ketchup + mustard color motif with not a single trace of shame.

She psychically knew that they’d be wearing their blue uniforms.

Thank heavens for the striped H&M socks at home!

VIVA ESPANA!

When: Saturday, Jan. 31st, 2009.

Femme What: Black velvet frock trimmed with embroidered ribbon, Free People. White tank by Mimi & Coco. Boots from Lamica, black ribbon headband from Target and skull-and-pearls necklace by Betsey Johnson.

Femme Scent: Vera Wang’s Princess, with notes as follows: Water Lily, Lady Apple, Mandarin Meringue, Golden Apricot Skin, Ripe Pink Guava, Tahitian Flower, Wild Tuberose, Dark Chocolate, Pink Frosting Accord, Precious Amber, Forbidden Woods, Royal Musk Captive, Chiffon Vanilla. I like this for a sweet and girly casual day scent that’s not too cloying or heavy. It’s nice and light, with enough going on to keep it from being boring and really good staying power.

Femme Confession: It appears, quite tragically, that I am not a fan of scotch. ‘Tis a pity! M brought a rather nice bottle home last night, along with heart-shaped chocolates from local chocolatiers Joseph Schmidt and wee tiles of solid milk and dark chocolate from Charles Chocolates! Perhaps it’s just the Islay variety – something in the peatiness, maybe – but not only did the taste not sit well with me, just the whiff off the cork made me feel boozy right away! Anyway, here’s an invitation to come visit us and help M drink this very lovely bottle of Lagavulin 16-Year Scotch:

Tomboy What: RVCA jeans, white guayabera bought in Old San Juan, PR. Mahogany Italian boots that are totally falling apart bought I have no idea where, vintage Yves Saint Laurent sangria tie with sea horsies bought at the bombass flea market.

Tomboy Confession: I woke up craving chilaquiles in green sauce even though I mostly only ever eat the kind in red sauce, so we went to Citron for brunch. They came with pulled pork and a very spicy salsa. I feel great about my breakfast, and am looking forward to the samosa parade later, and sliders tomorrow. The skinny one is not wearing underwear. There is scotch in the liquor cabinet. This sports weekend is going spectacularly!

When: Saturday, July 5th, 2008 & Sunday, July 6th, 2008.

Saturday What: Nocona boots, Rebecca Beeson tank, vintage scarf from Down At Lulu’s and black denim shorts from crap dept. store McCaulou’s. Leather cuff from DOLLYWOOD, bitches! Layered necklaces are thrifted.

Saturday Confession: ZOMG, it was hot as fuck yesterday, and we threw an impromptu UFC Fight Night soirée at the loft. M & I made homemade nachos and delicious, refreshing white sangria de cava for everyone. Around 9PM, when I was good and drunk and it had cooled down a bit, I baked a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies from scratch. So good. I have nothing to confess other than the fact that I put cute little tiny braids in my hair, which M proceeded to pull all goddamn night long.

Sunday What: Same old boots. Cute little plaid shorts by Lux, Hanes Her Way extra-long black tank (which come in awesome 2-packs at Target, I think), Sashimi vest. Same leather cuff with wooden bangle and black and metallic leather bag from Dolce Vita. Moleskine notebook.

Sunday Confession: Still rocking the itty bitty braids from yesterday. Word. Oh, wait! So, we went house-hunting today. Is this an inappropriate outfit for house-hunting? I wouldn’t know. Kthxbai. Also?! HA-HA-HA. Oh hai, the potted plant ate my other leg.