This has shaped up to be quite the outstanding weekend for one that was meant to be low-key (and productive, but that's another story). Last night, I was delighted to accompany a new friend to an all-femme clothing swap - my first clothing swap, ever! I brought two full-to-bursting shopping bags full of clothes and accessories, plus one rolling weekender bag.
If you could have seen the hostess's flat, y'all would have DIED. It was beautifully decorated - a juke box in the living room, vintage everything in the perfectly appointed dining room (with floral tiered serving trays lined with irresistible petits fours) - words can hardly describe it. Beyond that, the flat was occupied by a dozen or so friendly femmes, sweet as pie and so welcoming to a newcomer.
The swap was a success, I think. Nearly everyone found a few new items to bring to their wardrobes, and some made out like bandits. Someone even brought a ton of brand new high-end hair and beauty products! This dreamily soft, patterned skirt (meant to be a dress, but I wore it like a paperbag-waist skirt) and vintage blouse are both from the swap.
I had to make this next photo l a r g e because of the shadow behind me. Both the tomboy and petite loved it. It's kind of neat!
This morning the tomboy did something only necessary once or twice a year: She got up early to work on a Saturday. As if on cue, five minutes after the door closed behind her, the dog upstairs began its incessant barking and the upstairs neighbors above it began their incessant shouting in Spanish. I burrowed into the covers even deeper, trying to daydream myself back to sleep with thoughts of our dreamy new place - have I mentioned we're moving in two weeks? - to no avail.
No matter. I got up, brewed some coffee, toasted some bagels and watched Teen Witch with the petite. I packed a handful of boxes, showered and whipped my resolve into braving the rain to check out the little festival that could, Bring Yr Own Queer, nestled between the de Young museum and Academy of the Sciences in Golden Gate Park.
When I arrived, a band was already playing in Spreckels Temple of Music!
(That's this thing, aka the "Bandshell"...)
Y'all? It was amazing. Not only was every single band really, really talented and awesome, the whole thing was a testament to homos making it W O R K, yo. The rain was unrelenting. It fluctuated from a moderate drizzle to a steady, heavy rain. Merch tables surrendered their white tent so that it could be moved to front stage center, and folks sans umbrellas huddled under it to stay dry.
Lord only knows how nobody managed to get electrocuted, but the sound was mostly unaffected by the elements. There were snacks and crafts and queers of all stripes, including guest of honor John Cameron Mitchell, and it was wonderful to watch curious passersby stop and join in - some of them families - despite the rain. Everyone was damp or soaking wet and giddy and utterly without a care as they took over the shell to dance once Hard French took over the stage to play 60s and 70s soul music.
It was brilliant. Singing and dancing in the rain. It ought to happen every weekend!
As they say, Only in San Francisco...
Dress: Free People Blouse: Vintage Belt: Vintage Boots: Dolce Vita for Target Stacked Rings: M's 2nd wedding anniversary gift to me!