Prince & Princess

They could tell that I was enamored by them: two picture-perfect Seattleites who epitomized the City's fashion. I was witnessing history. I was the sartorial historian. "In the year 2010, young adults of Seattle fashioned themselves in this way." I toyed.

"I want to photograph both of you at the grocery store." I announced, catching them off guard. They looked at each other for backup. She chuckled. He erected a wall. I glorified them again.

"What do you think?" Lola nudged Lance with her soft brown eyes.

"I hate having my picture taken. I'm not photogenic." he pleaded. His body language, his countenance, said no. Lola revealed that she doesn't take a good picture, either. I didn't believe any of it: She resembled Spring's first flower. Lance, on the other hand, moped.

"You're not feeling it." I soothed. Lance repeated his false claims.

Out of the blue, Lola chimed, "Come on, it will make a good story."

She had read my mind. We watched for Lance's next move. Still nothing.

"You could be featured in my book." I decided for the first time in my life.

He looked at me with new eyes, "Your book?"

"Yeah. Once I compile enough photos and stories, I'll have enough material for a book. My work is pretty good." I boasted.

With that, he gave in, just barely, teetering.

The navy-olive-scarved, orange-cream-cuffed couple followed me inside QFC, where we meandered to the produce section. They mingled, I orbited around them. The stars came out that night.

Lance, you're more photogenic than you think. Deal with it: the camera does like you because you're a stud. Best wishes in Brooklyn.

Good-bye, winter – with it, Seattle's quintessential look. I welcome spring and summer. I can't wait to discover new opportunities. Until such time, so long, dear reader.

Mr. Andy