Fame, shame, notoriety

This afternoon, I was sitting on a bench on Houston Street when I suddenly noticed I was being photographed by what looked (by the camera and general appearance) to be a professional photographer. This was either because my chambray shirt, Target wayfarers, white jeans, and silver clogs (and, uh, tote bags) combo was awesome, or it was for a spread on poorly-executed trends, disheveled grad students, or something else of the fashion-don'ts persuasion. The fact that the man simply took the pictures and continued on his way suggests the latter possibility.