We're back to our roots -- sidewalks! With gum! Street style sounds a bit... commercial, n'est ce pas? To help capture the mood here, I still had the smell of airplane deodorant on my person and a pair of pulverized complimentary Delta cookies in my backpack, along with all my worldly belongings which I had been carrying since dark-thirty. I'd been boggled and buffeted and imposed myself on like a million a people, and I could not believe how much sense, how very practical and wise, a shopping cart was sounding. As a personal acquisition. As urban transportation. I had quit Lincoln Center and headed north, perhaps muttering, which is to say, I fit in perfectly on the upper west side. I went past this woman, seven trudges, ten, until her peplumed jacket, like a modern day coat dress, her well played jeggings, her dudely stocking cap and fab spectator boots mixing leather and canvas sent the shopping cart juddering from my narrow mental window, and I went back. She was indeed in conversation with someone but I did not let that stop me from communicating my perverse needs. Via miming! Here's how I mimed I am a street style blogger from Minnesota and I'd like to take your picture and disseminate it to an eager public over the WorldWide Web, OK?: I moved my lips and pointed to my camera (this very clearly said Minnesota), then fossicked in the backpack, retrieving errant smalls instead of the business card I was looking for. She stopped talking, stunned, maybe horrified. I mouthed the words, Act natural, clicked the button, pressed a card in her other hand and gave a thumbs up, as if to say, Thanks for that cover shot for Italian Vogue. Call me.