The Coldest Winter

Today's post title is a reference to the comment (often attributed to Mark Twain) that the coldest winter ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Sir and I just spent 4 days there and it was, as usual in June, chilly and windy.  I know everyone wants to see more posts so I will make this one a short, quick essay.

We had a very nice time, doing very little. We were in a beautiful hotel, high atop one of the city's hills and during the day I went shopping and sightseeing while Sir went to a conference. I spent some time in the Haight-Ashbury district and toured the SF-MOMA. I enjoy its exhibits, but confess I do not care for the building. We did not have time to visit the deYoung which is one of my favorites.

In the evenings we went to dinner and once to a show. There is a huge variety of dining available in San Francisco and I must say the seafood and the Asian are my favorites, not least because I can easily manage the main course while still maintaining my burqa'd dignity.

Walking is always a challenge for me in this city, however. Sir still requires very high heels and the SF hills are a challenge at times in an outfit that routinely drags on the pavement. This was particularly so on Tuesday night when we went to a show.

Under my veil, I was dressed in the beautiful new dress Sir gave me for Valentine's. Tea length, tight bodice, flared skirt and ribbed at the waist. It is my current favorite cocktail dress. I wore it over a full enclosure skin suit in a matching transparent purple. I particulalry like this combination because the hood, sleeves, and legs of the skinsuit complement the purple of the dress perfectly. It looks as if I am a monochromatic rubberized mannequin, stepping down from a store display.

Over this I wore my blue burqa with matching gloves and knee high latex boots with 5 inch spike heels. For the evening I was required to wear the built in silencing hood and we ate a late dinner afterwards where I was allowed to remove it.

We spent our last day, before our flight back, shopping in a couple of malls and a very nice artisan neighborhood. We spent time in some galleries and Sir picked out a couple of new photographs for our collection. A couple of people snapped photos of us with their smartphones, but we did not have the opportunity to meet them or ask for copies.

I was in my red burqa and Sir was in black latex slacks and a black button down rubber shirt under a rubber jacket. The gallery people looked a bit surprised when we walked in, but each gallery seemed to warm up to us as Sir discussed different works and the possibility of acquiring something. I simply stood by, enveloped in red rubber, looking at the art...mostly photography, but some sculpture as well.

We returned home uneventfully. The flight was fairly smooth with only a short period of turbulence. As usual I was in all white, my white dress under my white burqa, an open faced hood later covered with the burqa's silencing hood.

I did have a moment during bag claim when a teenage girl sat beside me and couldn't take her eyes off my burqa. I was sitting waiting for Sir to collect the luggage. On a whim I extended my hand through the hand slit and pinched a fold of the voluminous white rubber and held it up for her to feel. She looked a bit amazed, but felt it and smiled.  I think she was as amazed by the sight of my white rubbered arm and hand as by the fact that I invited her to touch and feel the rubber.

More later
Lady