King Benny

We found this mural on a garage door in an alley in the Mission District. We liked it. Isn't it fabulous? We decided it needed to be a backdrop for a new blog post. The light just happened to be absolutely perfect.

There was a mighty breeze in San Francisco. It was a gloriously sunny, gorgeous day, but the wind somehow found this little block we were in and, well, that was that. I do have some sad news. The promising new Fekkai product I got failed miserably where beachy waves are concerned (and I used it with the entire Glossing system, too!). Glossy? Yes, but the waves lasted for maybe 30 minutes and then were gone with the...c'mon, gimme a break...wind.

The woman who sold it to me promised I'd get waves, and said even with her Japanese straightening perm she got wave, so...

Clearly, she's a L I A R. Why can't I just have my daughter's hair? She's got the most insanely glorious natural waves, like the wake in an ocean after a large ship's cut swiftly across the rolling sea at night.

This is what my hair does when carelessly towel-dried and tended to with modest amounts of product, and then allowed to air dry. Contrary to my sexual orientation, straight as a pin. Clearly, I was not deterred. Sure, we had to delete a couple of photos revealing a little too much Liberty of London unmentionables, but the result was mostly made of cheeky awesome!

Dress, Fire Los Angeles. Denim vest, garage sale. Fur collar, vintage. Belt, Modcloth. Boots, Nocona. Cuff, Dollywood. Necklace, Culp Baubles.

"In Dog We Trust" by Nick Makannas, January 2010, with an honorary mention to King Benny, 1993-2009.

Y'all? I'm a little late to the train, as usual, but so very addicted to Deadwood. An old college friend of M's turned us onto it and despite only being at the tail's end of Season One, I love it so. Who can possibly resist that old drunk, Jane? TENDER CUSSY MOUTH. That's my nickname for her, Calamity Jane.