Hey, Ma.

Prince Street, New York.

So yesterday, I posted a candid fashion portrait of a woman strolling down the sidewalk in black and white. At the time when I was working on it, I grappled with the idea of cropping it—you may or may not have noticed that sitting to the far left was a woman picking at her nose.

Grappling.
Because something like that should be an automatic, and not a grapple.

But I left our poor nose-picker in that frame without any mention or commentary. The photo was well-received on Facebook and one loyal reader pointed it out here on the blog. When I decided to leave the nose-picker in that photo, I was actually thinking of the frame in this post. It happened in a split-second (as things like this usually do): I queued up to take a shot of the young woman on the right approaching, and knew that the young man on the left was going to pass me, and that there was a chance I wouldn’t get the shot because the two would intersect just as I was ready to shoot. I wasn’t expecting much, but then this happened. He was talking on his mobile with someone, slowed his roll just long enough to check her out and as she passed, reluctantly reciprocated as if he was going to say something, because let’s face it, this sort of thing probably happens to her all the time. Only he never broke speech with his phone partner and kept on walking. No pick-up line, no machismo noises, just a laughably awkward moment between two strangers. Can candid fashion be non-sensical and awkward? Yes, please.

TGIF.