fitforafemme.com

HELLO, KITTENS!

How the hell are you? It’s been a week! A whole week!

Before anything else: Thank you for voting for Fit For A Femme, even if we didn’t win a Lezzy Award this year, we stood up there with the big dogs and it was totally awesomesauce, and I lovelovelove y’all for voting day in and day out with all your might.

So, I got this mini whilst thrifting for, like, $2, NWT. It makes for a great casual, relaxed look, but where the hell does The Gap get off charging $50 for a tiny denim miniskirt? Not that it isn’t great. It is. It’s just that I wouldn’t dream of wearing this without leggings on underneath. It’s SCANDALOUSLY short. And tiny. And not worth that crazy sticker price, which makes finding it for next to nothing that much sweeter. I went BANANAS thrifting last week. It was a month-end clearance sale, and I got 15 super awesome pieces – from a beautiful azure blue sunhat with the most dramatic brim to an armful of calico sundresses for Spring to a soft chestnut brown shrunken velvet blazer (it screams equestrian) – for just under $35 and in less than 1.25 hours. SCORE. Shopping = femme sports.

What else? Oh, you know, not much. I completed my utterly life-changing self-defense training on Sunday, and new bruises are STILL popping up all over my body. Badges of honor, my instructor calls them. I had the privilege of fighting FIVE fights at my graduation ceremony (with M and the petite there to support and cheer me on), instead of the standard three. DO NOT MESS, Y’ALL.

I was just named a member of the Femme Collective, which is gearing up for Femme2010: No Restrictions this August. Femmes, mark your calendars (and reserve your spot on the infamous Skinny + M sofabed now if you’re an out-of-towner)! Speaking of M, she and I are headed across the Bay Bridge next week for a meeting with other legally wed California couples to discuss next steps as powerful advocates for marriage equality, which I’m really excited about. Writing checks and being visible and all that is well and good, but I never feel like I’m doing enough unless I’m doing.

I will be a busy girl. A busy, happy, girly girl!

Also, we just ordered her a pair of these dapper new shoes:

ZOMG, THIS BELT THING! When I first saw it at modcloth.com, it kind of reminded me of a cross between a sweet, worn-in leather gun holster and the Zana Bayne leather harness Laia over at The Pop | Geometric Sleep wore so effortlessly awhile back. I will try wearing it as originally intended, but I love this idea – slinging it across one shoulder and packing the pouch with night-out essentials: ID, Besame’s darling and elegant lipstick bullets, blotting papers, cash. Period. I’m sure many femmes can agree: Sometimes not having to carry around a bag or purse or clutch or tote is freeing and happy, and not ALL dresses are made with – or are even practically made at all – pockets.

Plus, it’s inexpensive.

Plus, it’s real leather, which smells good and is super fun to wear in.

Plus, because I said so.

Also, I cannot wait to rock this scarf (also from modcloth.com) even as it warms up. It’s not quite sheer, but wafer-thin and moves nicely. I can see it dressing up a wifebeater, cutoff shorts and cowboy boots, I can see it giving a pop of color to a lightweight cotton tank dress, I can see it at Baker Beach with a 50s pinup swimsuit and some truly excellent shades. For now, it shall keep my neck warm, and prettily!

CONFESSION: Record low temps in the Bay Area mean epic layers for this femme. You get creative. This morning I used the snow scraper we bought up in Tahoe earlier this year to get all of the ice off of my windshield, and while it worked like a charm, I felt a little bit sheepish. Like a crummy rookie. I mean, normally you curse while you grab a credit card or library card or something out of your wallet to get the morning freeze off, and there I was making a big old ruckus with my fancy scraper at 7:30AM, with my petite rolling her eyes at me from the backseat. You know what she got for giving me guff? I picked her up with a 5-hour-old head of Lush henna piled under an old scarf, that’s what. How do you like them apples?

OH, GOD. I’VE TURNED INTO MY TOUGH-AS-NAILS, NO-NONSENSE GERMAN GRANDMOTHER.

On second thought, that’s kind of awesome. Carry on! Stay warm! Send snowy femme photos!

PS. These are the thrifted Bandolino boots, fetched for a wee $16 at Buffalo Exchange, that I tried to patch up with Gorilla Glue. You can’t tell, can you? They are such a supple, pretty, deep and warm brown, I can’t bear to part with them.

PPS. 3′ of fresh snow at Heavenly, my sneaky little email tells me. Is it that time again, already? Let’s go!

CONFESSION: Yesterday was the St. George Spirits (makers of the delicious Hangar One infused vodkas) Open House Holiday Party in Alameda, CA. The theme was Cheesy Prom and folks were out in all their awesome 80s glory. Since I was there working and wasn’t sure about how dressed up folks would get, I played it safe with this outfit, since it felt like a nice, balanced Pretty In Punk sort of getup, especially with the cheeky animal print tights. The Building A Mystery dress is from modcloth.com, as well as the super fierce Full Throttle heels.

Not so safe was the decision to wear these shoes out for the first time to an event where I knew I’d be on my feet for six hours straight, but surprisingly I had no discomfort with them at all! Phew. It was a perfect choice, and I can’t even begin to describe how gorgeous the old hangar is. All of the beautiful machinery and stacks and stacks of crates of alcohol, with an incredible view of the SF Bay and the city itself, plus all that wonderful natural light coming in through rows and rows of windows all around.

The main cocktail tastings were all named after classic 80s movies – Some Kind Of Wonderful, Pretty In Pink, Risky Business – and the plethora of appetizers being served were amazing, especially the Mexican nibbles from El Huarache Loco, chocolates from Rechiutti Confections and last but not least, the single malt sweet potato pies, which M merrily ate for breakfast this morning. (We slept in until 1PM and watched Breakfast At Tiffany’s over coffee and leftover nibbles from the party, having induced the most crippling food coma ever after an incredibly filling dinner at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack in Bernal Heights.)

Thank heavens we only have a 2-day week this week! Hope y’all had lovely weekends. XOXO!

CONFESSION: Today was a day for the bank. I attended a private tasting of Dalmore’s 12, 15, Gran Reserva and King Alexander III single malt scotch whiskys, plus a very special bonus tasting, at the methodically handsome Laszlo in the Mission. The dear Scottish man who led the tasting said that I reminded him of a lovely, elegant Lowlands single malt scotch whisky, when he wasn’t spitting onto the floor at any mention of the French. (You can eventually read more about all that here, at my “other” blog. I don’t want to spoil it.) They were kind enough to let me pop upstairs before and after the tasting to take some super awesome FFAF photos, hurrah. Just a moment ago the UPS guy arrived with a very important package, and I was so excited that M said I made a big old ruckus of “kitten noises,” whatever those are. It contained a new dress (not-so-LBD) and super badass new shoes. I can’t wait to show y’all! M is well enough to drink a bottle of cava with me (finally!) and lasagna is baking in the oven with some fluffy garlic bread in hot pursuit. DREAMY.

SCENT: Tom Ford’s Black Orchid. I must confess something. I broke up with Tom awhile ago, but after reading about his directorial debut starring Colin Firth (and Julianne Moore) in A Single Man, I’ve realized something very, very important: My love for Colin is greater than my hate for Tom. Does that make sense? Of course it does. (He’s Mark-bloody-Darcy, after all.) I digress. Black Orchid is a hot, heady, stunning mess. The jury is out on whether or not that’s a good or bad thing. The opening is almost like scorched black licorice drizzled over jasmine and sundry florals, like in Absinthe or Drambuie. It does kind of smolder, all bared teeth, glossed lips and super dangerous bedroom eyes. This smells like the kind of woman you should stay away from – you know better, of course – but you can’t help yourself. I’m going to have to come back to this, because it’s too complex!

Here are some notes, FYI: Black Truffle, Ylang, Bergamot, Black Currant. Then the black orchid, dark florals, rich fruit, Lotus Wood. At last, there’s Patchouli, Incense, Vetiver and Vanilla Tears, Balsam and Sandalwood.

Watch this and tell me you don’t find it completely gorgeous. Seriously.

And since it was one of the most beautiful stills:

CONFESSION: I love this dress so. It’s easy and comfortable, but pretty. It looks better without the white tights (points to anyone who gets the lyrical reference), and I’ll post it that way someday but it is COLD here, so tights you are. (Get it? Tights you are! Right you are! Ha!) My little kitty friend came to take pictures with me, she’s very affectionate; she’ll jump up and paw at me like a puppy might. It’s adorable. I love her!

SCENT: Let’s not dilly-dally, I’ve got a different Victoria’s Secret perfume on either arm just waiting to be scrubbed off, ach so:

God, just look at that packaging. Cue involuntary sneer! OK, OK. Super Model out of the vial makes me think of soft vanilla and citrus, orange, actually, like a creamsicle. (M’s favorite!) It’s terrible. She likes it, which concerns me, but she is sick after all. On the drydown, it becomes something like stale, matted cotton candy.

Dream Angels Heavenly (America’s No. 1 fragrance, according to the VS website) shows some promise right away – quince, cardamom, white peony – but fades into boring, stuffy mediocrity. I will definitely have to hold this up against Dream Angels Desire to compare the two.

Y’all? I only have one more of these crap vials to test and report, and the epic experiment is final. To celebrate this, I have a very special fragrance post in the works. All I can say is that it involves intimate peeks into the cologne closets of two roguish tomboys, and you will want to go to there. Just in time for the holidays, too! I can’t wait, and I bet neither can you. Until then, kittens!

XOXO,

SBJ

PS. This chair had a cold puddle. I sat in it. Bugger.

CONFESSION: Last night, I tried on two of those POS wanker Victoria’s Secret fragrances I got forever ago, with a pair of super soft, sexy pajamas (free slippers with purchase!). One was so gross and cloyingly sweet that M described it as “someone trying to layer on perfume over dirty ass” and I simply referred to it as a whore’s bath perfume. Seriously. I refuse to even bequeath it to anyone since it screams CRUSTY SLUT + EXCESS BRONZER. It’s called Ooh La La, but is more like Oh, Hell Nah. I really hope none of you like it, because I’m not going to feel bad and I’m not going to take it back, either! (Damn it, I just realized that I reviewed OLL in late December of last year, in Shovels & Lye. At least I’m consistent!?)

The Fragrance was No. 2, boasts top notes of crushed leaves, freesia, mandarin (What the fuck kind of leaves? Isn’t that sort of key?) and does begin rather citrus-y and benign. I had to give it another go-round today because Ooh La La sent my senses into a diabetic coma, but it doesn’t seem to change my opinion of it as a rather boring and one-hit wonder scent. Not even a good hit, either. Something Milli Vanilli-ish. (If I spelled that wrong, it’s b/c I refuse to google it for the proper spelling. Fakers don’t get my hits! I have standards.) It’s not offensive, just boring. Very un-sexy. For instance, Laura Bush should totally check this out. It’s perfect for her.

From the Dream Angels collection comes Wish, which is TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME if you want to smell like orange sherbet ice cream and baby powder, and reminds me of back in the day when my folks would take us to Baskin Robbins on special occasions, and someone would be like, “Oh, you should have some water,” and I’d be all, “The fuck for? I drink my water in Kool-Aid, man. Step off, my peanut-butter-and-chocolate ice cream cone is melting.” Or, you know, changing diapers. Also, it irks me that something so vile has to share the same word with a stellar The Cure album, but what are you gonna do?

Someone at the VS fragrance think tank needs to ground themselves from citrus for, like, a year, and then get back to me.

PS. Ain’t much to say about this outfit ‘cept there’s a mean cold snap this week and mama needs to go SHOPPING. I do, however, have a new brown sheath dress that is super Joan Holloway and was recently procured at the thrift store for FIDDY MOFO CENTS, YO. Holla / Coming Soon.

PPS. What the hell is up with the Christian Siriano for VS make-up collection? When the cover model on the website looks kind of rough in all your war paint, dude, you need to step up your game. Do any of y’all have it? Is it good? Not that I’m in the market…my quick beauty fix lately has been a dusting of Cargo bronzer as a wash over the entire lid, with heavy-handed mascara at the lash base instead of eyeliner. Fresno and Coral Beach are my favorites right now, but it seems the former is discontinued. SOB.

PPSS. Lips? Besame’s Red Velvet. Creamy and subtle red for when MAC’s Russian Red is too much damn work.