jeez, I ran into this nutritionist from Winnipeg on the subway

 

Oh wait...

 

Anyway, she softened the whole nutritionist thing (yah, probly) by hyphenating with -model,  so I was like all cool and didn't bring up saturated fats at all.  Her pants are waxed, her sandals chained and her bag fringed. Which reminded me to get knicker-ready for my appointment with the beach next day early.

stalking in the rain

This satisfies my one requirement when I go to NYC, which is to walk fast behind someone and take a jiggly unauthorized photo whilst dealing with a fistful of questionable halal food, a steamer trunk/handbag that may or may not hold another outfit like in first grade in case there should be an incident, a king-size subway map and platforms + cobblestones with a high likelihood of leg-snapping injury. It's what's known as stupid a New York moment.

What clinched it for me was the chrysanthemum-inspired black lace overskirt.  Also the super shot of her achilles tendon. And the fact that I was on my own for a few minutes in this otherwise highly scheduled trip.  I find, others do not like to be around me in this mode.  Street stalking is best enjoyed alone.  Like teriyaki flavored beef jerky.

someone from Naperville, IL bought a shiny jacket

Six kinds of shine going on here which I tried to ameliorate via vigorous Photoshop, but alas.  Nevermind.  Here we are, with 97 million other people, waiting for the 2 or the 3 or a great big NYC rat, and this woman's beauty shone through. After revealing that I was from Minnesota by way of Northbrook, IL,  she was horrified opened up and said she was actually not a super cool New Yorker from birth but rather a super cool person from Naperville, IL where she bought this shiny coat because no one else from Illinois ever would. And I can confirm this. No one from Illinois would buy this satin shiny coat with stealth hidden snaps. Too slick. Too overt. People from Illinois buy tweed and khaki and Land's End raincoats in colors like Valium or Dank. Oh boy, I like a generalization.

In my defense, I tried like the dickens to show you that her shiny shoes are in fact shiny wingtips that were originally like $1,300 but she found at a sample sale for...

and then we were interrupted by some hideous tourist asking for directions, oh my gosh. As if. And I never found out what a super deal she got on these wonderful shoes.

She works at Ralph Lauren sketching children's clothes, so probably Ralph Lauren will slap some cash on me for tagging them here. Ralph Lauren. She did not blond herself -- someone else did.  Which is why she looks freakin boss.

Below is the picture I did not take of the perfectly attired hipster I sat next to on the flight to NYC...

He was a French/Philosophy major from Reed College who subsequently spent 8 months in Lyon perfecting his French/upper lip hair and was on his way to a PhDaddy's postdoc in Brooklyn living with friends in Bed-Stuy and working in the Village as a barista.  Who am I to judge, right?  Chairman of the bar, is all.  But he was sweet and delightful and I made him pronounce Lanvin and Canne over and over and over. The key to French pronunciation I discovered is to speak quickly and without emotion or moving your lips, only your glottis.  He was wearing some awesome black jeans that I took to be waxed but found out they were in fact dirty, by Portuguese company, Loreak Mendian.  When you say this with correct pronunciation it sounds like you may not choke to death on your hair ball. Here is a photo I did not take of their glottis clothes...

discrimination

how to wear a Trader Joe's shopping cart

I can pretty much pinpoint when this photo was taken:  After my opening excuse -- that I have a street style blog -- and after she replied, "No way!"  but before I realized her response might have been real honest-to-effin-gosh disbelief that someone sporting a snot spangled down jacket, running tights/gray body paint that end awkwardly midst knee and cankle and a Division III Cross Country hat for the sole purpose of covering up a forehead pimple could utter the words street style blog without being smote for blasphemy.
Be that as it may....
I think you can tell that dairy red is the overarching theme here.  And I was naming all the red things, as if this was a surprise to her (damn why didn't someone tell me I have poppin lipstick on) when suddenly I spied the lavender fingernails which caused smoke to billow from my ears hat. See so much more of that (fingernails) below.  I may have referred to the rolled jeans/white pumps combo as Rockabilly.  Give me a solid, people... was I right?  Let me rephrase -- was that the correct style category? 
I discovered she is the an editor of Minnesota Bride... No, no, of course I did NOT try to interest her right then and there in my own upcoming involvement in the military-nuptial complex. My gosh, how brilliant unprofessional.  I am not even trying to suck up by saying she could be a hand model.

a couple unauthorized photos

 Of the web of life in the 70s....

and an orange waxed jacket with graphic design pants.  I don't know how Bill Cunningham does it. I guess New Yorkers are more accustomed to seeing someone, possibly a private investigator, kind of clandestinely taking their picture.  I always want to assure subjects I don't have a criminal record, and I'm simply going to disseminate this photo of them wearing orange (aha!) all over the internets.  I wonder if Bill Cunningham has ever been roughed up, and his camera stomped on?  Because that has not happened to me.

more happy natives wearing flowers

I'm going to admit, some of these I shot.  This was the smoothest segue I've yet had to share my very favorite fashion photography in the whole world -- the mofos of the Omo River, described by German photographer Hans Silvester.  Silvester spent six years in the area documenting what he said was completely unstaged but astoundingly complex body decoration, a tradition he said developed when his stylist paid the natural canvases in guns and alcohol because the locals had no mirrors so could only tell if the bird nest was on their head straight by the approval or mockery of their peers.

Unfortch,  the people of the iPhone could not simply enjoy the enchanting result of Silvester + a boatload of ochre, regardless of how it came about.  No.

Anthropologists are crying. 

Range Rovers full of tourists descended on the remote area of Ethiopia waving money and video cameras, and the centuries-old tradition of enacting minutes-old colorful primitive rituals for money has been documented exhaustively.  The very beautiful bending boughs of nature immediately exchanged the strange bits of paper and shiny metal for guns and alcohol.

Now I'm a little worried about the innocent natives whose image I captured, waving my camera and a piece of paper.  They are gonna be so PO'd when they discover my business card cannot even buy them a Grain Belt.

natives in ethnic dress

Here are some friendly natives sporting the everyday dress of the land that they've pimped a little bit -- blue shoelaces and jacquard jacket, or jacketard, which is not to be confused with...anyway... -- identifying them as of the Banana Republic.  
I'm pretty sure the galleries of outback Laos even now have an exhibit of khakis, plaid button-downs and Italian made shoes with leather soles and coordinating women's look defined by a big shiny neck stretcher.  The exhibit gets huge authenticity points by displaying the costumes on the strange white people, and staging a ritual performance three times a day in which they demand bottled water and 400 thread count sheets in a loud voice.

how to wear a Chanel jacket

Boom.

dapper guy starts seeing flowers, and is a little freaked out

This 6'3" man was really really overwhelmed by the power of floral arranging.  He was definitely not touching them.  The insouciant coordination of hat band, hoodie and big boy pants is beyond charming.

spotted at Target

Photo op in aisle 27.  This, my friends, is wardrobe coordination on a professional level.  Precise, pragmatic, comprehensive and not without a sense of humor, this impeccable ensemble still commands respect after a full day on the job, shaping young minds.  That's right, she's a pharmacist teacher.  She's used to dealing quickly and calmly with people who run up to her with sticky hands and wet pants. And I, for one, appreciate it!

As much as her sartorial fluency made my day,  the fact that she is sharing the endless joys of color, texture and proportion with other impressionable people, well, I just get a little teary, that's all.  Raise your hand if you agree.