So I was downtown Monday night, loading up on fashiony goodness to photograph. If you love people watching, Three Rivers Festival is probably the best time all year to do that.
And on with the parade!
These types of broken feet look all high tech, but I would have been more impressed if she had BOTH feet in these foot cast things.
They discourage bringing pets to TRF, but these dogs look too damn good to stay home.
Last year, it was neon shoes. This year, neon shoes AND socks.
There's usually a few women wearing heels to a festival where a good part of the action takes place on trampled grass. These weren't outrageous, but still.
There was so much chlorine in this fountain, walking beside it was like being in a Clorox shower.
If you're going to do this, why not go all the way and leave the pants at home, you pussy? Guess he didn't want his widdle wegs to get chilwy.
Orphan shoes always make me sad. And always make me wonder, especially when they are in the middle of the highway. This one wasn't, but still.
He got out of his dreams, got out of his bed, and got into the Festival. Soon, Fort Wayne will be known as Fort Pajamas.
What happens when shorts hit mid shin? Do you call them Shrins? Or do you call them, "Why the Fuck Bother?"
These "shorts" aren't "long" enough.
Spiders gonna spide.
Those sumo wrestling suits weren't big enough to reflect today's morbid obesity trend, so they made the logical next step to giant balls.
I followed this couple because their patterned clothing got me, but then the man on the right suddenly appeared and I about wet myself AND had a orgasm.
I guess you're never too young to support douchebag slogans/movements, but as his hat said, "You only live ... oh forget it.