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CONFESSION: My feet are shrinking or something. There are two or three pairs of shoes, including these, that have suddenly loosened, or something. Last night M & I took the BART thing to San Francisco, to see Polly Jean Harvey perform with John Parish at The Warfield. It was a wonderful show, save the filthy stinking hippie sitting next to M (we took balcony seats just to avoid that sort of thing – it is, it seems, inescapable – also, do people smoke pot at all shows at The Warfield or was it just this one, even in balcony seats? Not that I take issue with it in general, but these folks were ultra attention whore-y about it).

While it was almost radically different from her solo shows (this tour is for their new album, A Woman A Man Walked By, and only songs from their two albums were performed), the constancy of her voice and onstage presence remain the same. My favorite part of the show was when the lights went completely black, the band started to play Taut and as the lights flickered back on erratically, PJ was revealed as a tiny black puddle center stage, curled into a tight little ball and as her voice undulated with the lyrics so did her body, and as she tore into the near-vulgar line “Jesus save me,” she clawed her way toward the mic stand, rocking back and forth on her knees and then finally standing, barefoot. It was brilliant and so incredibly creepy. She danced around like an undead gypsy ballerina throughout the whole show, and of course the performance for the title track of the new album was just perfect.

Also? I want her hair. What?!

Scent: Santa Maria Novella’s Toscano was lovely at first, it really was. I didn’t know whether or not this was a feminine or masculine scent, because while it had aspects of the latter it was still quite sweet and alluring – it’s actually unisex! It began like a curious, unexpected filling in an otherwise predictable cookie, but unfortunately, after the dry down all that was left was a lingering sweet rice note that reminded me of my cunty Filipino grandmother, so that was that.

For everyone else, the fragrance, with notes of bergamot, jasmine, tobacco, birch leaf, vanilla, burnt malt and amber, is typically well-received and noted for being “easy to wear.” The official description reads “…inspired by the famous Toscano cigars of Lucca in Italy, Santa Maria Novella’s latest addition Tabacco Toscano opens with a sparkling fruity-floral note and quickly changes into a warm and leathery yet airy tobacco scent.”

Confession: So, I am pretty sure that I’m still high on adrenaline from my women’s self-defense class tonight. It was so fantastic. There were two instructors; one young woman who did most of the work and coaching, and a lanky guy with tattoos who was trained to be the assailant in the padded suit. In the group, reasons for taking the class ranged from recent muggings to rape to feeling unsafe in general or vague and frankly upsetting feelings of being unsafe in one’s own home. Oh, and a few women had recently moved to sketchier neighborhoods. In terms of age and ethnicity, we were equally diverse. My friend was taking it for the 5th time and had brought another friend of hers along, too.

I BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF THE PADDED DUDE, YO.

God, it was so fantastic. We did a lot of verbal and body language exercises, but we also learned a handful of strikes and did a few full-force fights with the padded guy. The first time I fought back he went down after just the second strike! (The highly trained faux-assailants are taught to “go down” when they feel a KO or knock-out strike. I didn’t realize that and returned to the line pouting and asking my friend why I only got to hit him twice when everyone else got at least THREE strikes! Ha.)

It wasn’t even wombmoon, and I was very thankful for that. The pacing was pretty good and everyone was really supportive. Any questions that were asked got satisfactory and educational answers or responses.  Sudden or unexpected emotional bouts were handled with respect and focus. (Warning: Being faux-attacked from behind is REALLY intense in a bad way, but that’s the point. I did not get upset, but my friend assures me that the longer course will require waterproof mascara.) I feel really good for doing it!

In conclusion, I am so so so sold on signing up for the 3-day (24 hrs. of training) course as soon as I can afford it, for it is NOT cheap. Alas, my safety is priceless. After that course, I probably want to sign up for their advanced weapons course, too. They have another advanced course for handling multiple assailants at once, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself!

Seriously, if I won the lottery one of the first things I’d do is fly all my friends and loved ones and yes, even you, FFAF readers, and the Impact trainers to a villa in Antigua for unlimited private training, and it would be amazing.

This is from a different academy, but you’ll get the gist:

Confession: I’d sent in my RSVP for the Lush Grand Opening Party at Bay Street two weeks ago and needed a tub of Dream Cream, so M & I dragged our happily spent bodies from bed and set out on the day. After appx. 30 seconds of crowded Lush store air, M made a beeline outside and stood like Cool Hand Luke against the glass window while I shopped. Remembering the goodie bag that came with a $40 purchase, I snagged a tub of Ultra Bland cleanser and one of their lip pots, which got me the following 100% free (well, you know): Olive Branch solid perfume, an Avobath bomb, a bottle of Smitten hand cream (so delicious) and a Pop In The Bath bubble bar. Plus, they handed out little Lush cookies for nibbles.

And I know it’s SO last summer, but FINALLY a pair of aviators that don’t make me look like Nicole Ritchie. Whee!

And then we bought even MORE Girl Scout cookies, as you can see.

Oh, lookie! The what and when are noted! All that’s left is the confession, and scent, if applicable. Have I done Parfumerie Generale’s Querelle? No? Well, today is just as good a day as any. Here are the notes: citruses, Iranian black caraway, myrrh, cinnamon, Haittian vetiver, incense, oakmoss, and ambergris. Some consider this to be an evil scent. Some consider it an haute couture scent. It is complex and intimidating and all day long (you can ask M) it would jump out at me out of nowhere, seemingly, and I would feel as though someone was challenging me to a fight. Delicious. Absolutely fucking spectacular. It is violent, it is dirty, it is deeply unnerving. I absolutely love it. The best part? My other sniffs fiend friend unloaded it on me because she loathed it so (she says it smelled like “vetiver ass” on her) – on me, she truly appreciates it.

(Oh, and this is for Jen: We had Caesar salad bib lettuce cups, mini burgers with white cheddar, beef tartare with spicy Thai red curry, kaffir lime oil, sesame crackers, lamb chops and very, very spicy pommes frites for dinner at Lime tonight. So good. Also? Eight dessert “bites” as follows: three mocha creme brulee cups, two dark chocolate-dipped cheesecake pops, one each of the strawberry cream, brownie a la mode and red velvet baby cupcake.)

When: Thurs., February 12th, 2009.

What: Plain black trousers from Express, sleeveless black blouse by Samuel Dong, thrifted black belt with neon stripe. Vintage black leather moto jacket by Wilson’s, boots by H&M, Peruvian scarf from little Bodega Bay surf boutique. Bullet necklaces by J. Gold.

Confession: I feel like a dirty fucking hippie because I haven’t washed my hair for, like, four days or something. It feels gross, even. But it looks SO FANTASTIC, I just can’t bear to do it. I don’t even know how it’s possible, it’s FILTHY, it probably smells, but when the Shiny Hair Goddess of Preternaturally Lovely Waves pulls you to her gossamer bosom, you do not squirm or wiggle or wish for an entire bottle of shampoo. You toss your hair after brushing it with your fancy Aveda hairbrush.

Close-ups of fancy floral lattice on back of blouse, my shiny hair and the bullet lipstick pendants by J. Gold (I’m keeping the baby one safe until the petite can wear hers without other parents turning me into the CPS.):

When: Sunday, February 8th, 2009.

What: Orange crochet and polka dot dress by Bazei, layered over a brown keyhole turtleneck from Nine West. Vintage leather jacket by Wilson’s and leather boots by Lamica. Bronze leather earring by Brooklyn’s Idyllic4U Couture.

Confession: I didn’t crawl out of bed until after 2pm today. I was too busy clinging to my bed between hot and cold sweats and gritting my teeth through an excruciating headache (I realize it could have been a migraine). I am not sure what the hell that was, but after lots of water and sleep and a long shower and many, many fistfuls of Advil, I seemed to be back to normal. Which is a good thing because M & I promised the petite we’d take her to see Coraline this afternoon, and I’d even read the book from cover to cover late last night! Anyway, it was very creepy and sweet and I feel better, so hurrah.

PLEASE KEEP NOMINATING FIT FOR A FEMME FOR A LEZZY AWARD!

Cool Coraline graphic from Siglap Media Resource Library, some closer shots of the earring:

When: Mon., Dec. 22nd, 2008.

What: Skinny pants from Laundry by Shelli Segal, sheer blouse by Guess, vintage leather jacket by Wilson’s. Beret from H&M and boots by Restricted.

Scent: Victoria’s Secret Sexy Little Things & Very Sexy Dare. I really can’t stand any of the scents that came in this coffret, I really can’t. It’s almost painful just to test them, y’all. Let’s start with Dare. It’s citrus-y. It doesn’t last long, so the fact that it succumbs to the middle and lower notes on the dry down is moot. It gets chocolate-y for a second, too. Top notes: bergamot, blood orange, pineapple juice, tamarind nectar, hazelnut leaf. So, basically, VS is daring me to what? Not get a migraine with their perfume on?

Sexy Little Things and/or Ooh La La is more like choke, choke, cough. Seriously. You know how some people come on really strong and then when you don’t retreat or back down, they suddenly wuss out or start backing away whimpering, tail between their legs? That’s what these both are. It’s very unfortunate.

Confession: I love this leather jacket. I’ve had it for years. It’s tiny and very tight. I love that the sides cinch with little leather tabs that slide through silver buckles, and that the pockets are just tiny slits, and the zippers at each snug wrist.

I love that it’s got green paint on the shoulder that won’t come off, from the time M & I helped a friend paint her foyer. I love that it’s never been washed and I abuse it constantly – throwing it everywhere, rubbing it up against concrete pillars, tossing it on the filthy ground so I can sit on it, shoving it into small, dark spaces instead of actually hanging it up – it’s like the more disgusting it gets, the more I love it.

It’s definitely SBJ-proof. I’ll cry if it ever gets lost.