I live in the neighborhood closest to downtown Vancouver which has not yet become trendy in any significant way. Despite being only ten minutes from Gastown, fifteen from Granville Street, the locals are a mix of factory workers, immigrants, young families, prostitutes, some students, and a couple of downtown commuters (e.g. yours truly). An interesting fact about the prostitutes: street-walking in a city as car-dominated as Vancouver seems to peak at rush hour, when downtown commuters are making their way back to their suburbs. During my bike ride home, Powell Street tends to be lined with the young entrepreneurs, positioning themselves along the route to North Vancouver.

I digress. The reason I bring up my neighborhood is because it served as the recognizable backdrop to this evening’s photoshoot. Here are some of the results.

“What’s with all the classiness spilling out of kevin’s general vicinity?,” you might ask. Kevin’s eldest brother has decided to take a wife, and Kevin will be flying red-eye to Halifax tomorrow night in order to attend the festivities. One’s first return visit to a place like Cape Breton after moving to a place like Vancouver begs for some sort of eccentric or head-turning behavior, and so Kevin has elected to show up to his brother’s wedding dressed as a heartbreaker with a sexy lady by his side.