Dad and I met Kenny in the French Quarter for a Bridal Shoot for Jenna who’s getting married in a couple weeks. Shooting in places like the French Quarter is always interesting because it inevitable attracts two distinct groups of people: those who are completely oblivious to your production, and those who have formed a small, hungry mob over your left shoulder determined to absorb every detail. They were both there, on time.
Earlier in the afternoon Sam and I went to the Gun Show. I learned a couple things. One: Guns just don’t do it for me. I couldn’t even impulse-buy myself into getting fake grenades for my coffee table candy bowl. And that would have been funny. Two: there are many conspiracy theorists alive and well who will readily recommend a gun based solely on the predicted availability of its ammo “after it all hits the fan (in about a year or so).” I felt kind of like one of those little kids listening to Grandpa’s old up-the-hill-both-ways stories. Almost beside myself, I was tempted to plant myself down, right there on the floor, legs folded Indian style, and not move until he conceded to tell me more!
Instead Sam and I simultaneously gave up a little nod/grunt as if to say, “I know what you mean, brother.”
After walking around making fun of all the tacti-cool accessories, we left the Gun Show. Oh, and Sam bought a Sig. If you don’t know what that is, Google it. I don’t have the time to explain trivial gun things. After all, I go to Gun Shows. I know stuff.
Once Kenny’s French Quarter shoot ended we navigated our way back to the car via a delightful little shop on Decatur Robby has affectionately named “Lagarens.” None of us are sure what it’s real name is, but it is, nevertheless, an awesome place to visit. The entire front is a large, pull down door; the music seems to always be from the thirties and forties; and they specialize in obscure vintage military inspired apparel. A while back Sam showed up with some Snoopy-the-Red-Barron tented goggles, and it was then I knew mine and Lagerens paths must cross. And they did. Today at 6:11 pm.
I bought an original 1955 Swiss military-issue wool jacket. And when I say wool, I’m not talking about Super-100s. No, this is the kind of unlined, scratchy-wool jacket that you ran from as a child. But it was way cool, and I couldn’t pass it up.
I have a feeling I’ll be going back again very soon. After all, I have a wardrobe to buy.
P.S. Check out Kenny’s blog in the coming week or so to see his awesome shots from the shoot.
