As teased, the beauty shot of the Australian Battered Potatoes devoured by all at the Minnesota State Fair. Not too thick, not too thin, ordered with a side of sweet chili dipping sauce. I’ll be thinking of them and waiting for my next serving every day, all year. Until we meet again, ‘lil taters!

I aimed to open my eyes to new sights and scenes at the fair this year, instead of circling around the exact seven same spots like I usually do. Had I walked by the Education building in any of the past years I would’ve already photographed the heck out of it. But it was new to my eyes this year. It’s just soooo yesterday, and thus I soooo love it.

I also had never gone into the Fine Arts building and, walking around the various Minnesotan masterpieces, I found this sun-slashed mint blue curtain in a quiet little corner, squatted all over the floor and snapped some almost-art of my own.

Paul and Babe rendered in paper mosaic.

A string of resurrected soda pop brands for sale inside Heritage Square. A bottle of Peach Nesbitt’s was already chilling in my fridge back at home. Either for me to drink or enter into the Treasury. I hadn’t yet decided, and still haven’t, I guess.

Another new adventure for me this year was the State Fair museum, filled with memorabilia from years past.

Further on in the exhibit, Norm and Opal Hall shimmied across my path. I wish people still did fancy, fringed stuff like this. And not ironically. We’re all so self conscious and cool now. It’s honestly a shame.

Old Elephants. (Speaking of which, did you know elephants “sing” songs to themselves with over 20 verses to them, and when other elephants die those that they leave behind perform a funeral-type ritual for their dearly departed? I learned that when I bought my sister the novel White Bone many years ago which I’ve been wanting to read myself someday. And in other elephant literature-related business, this book is on my horizon as well.)

Don’t really like snow cones, didn’t order a snow cone, but the shimmer of the shop’s signage was a treat in and of itself.

I would’ve honestly been happy with fifth or sixth place. Those ribbons would’ve looked livelier on a wall than red or royal blue anyways.

I like how this photo creates the illusion that the Sky Ride traveled above nothing but miles of countryside corn-fields, but it was just a good old fashioned framing trick.

Can’t wait to return next year.

Also I’m wondering if it’d be fun to go to another state’s Fair sometime too. Anyone been to any amazing ones? I’ve heard the one in Texas is as epic as the state would suggest.

The goods: All-American.
The guests: Mostly Minnesotan.

This coming Saturday, the pop-up-style men’s market makes its way to Minneapolis thanks to the mavens behind J.W. Hulme Co., Pierrepont Hicks, Red Wing Shoes, and Fox River Socks.

The Northern Grade Ad-Hoc Men’s Market will be invading an old, antique Barn Door/Church Pew store in NorthEast Minneapolis from noon until 7. I’ll be making an unscheduled appearance at some point in the afternoon, and I think I heard there’d be hot, straight-razor shaves offered on-site too. So needless to say, it’s THE place to be seen this weekend.

I best go on now, and grow out my scruff as quickly as possible. I refuse to clash with all the domestic plaids and leathers.

The great, big, huge Minnesota State Fair rendered in Miniature Mode via the much-loved, in-camera effect found on my Canon SD1400.

Some free legal advice:

Kirsten Kennis may be 5 feet 8 inches of WASP-y gorgeousness but don’t even think about downloading or re-tumblr-ing her beautiful face for your own enjoyment, artistic or otherwise.

If she’ll take Ezra and his boys to court, I don’t doubt she’d do it to all of us as well.

Since publishing an entry this past January with an early 70s photograph featuring Paul Newman, a dirt-bike, and a pair of biker-esque boots, I diligently hit internet auctions every morning for seven months to race down, at last, this “near mint” pair of 1960s Red Wing Irish Setter Sport boots.

They differ somewhat from my original inspiration, but they were just the style and color I figured would work with my day-to-day wardrobe. Now that I’ve finally got them, I’ve had to figure out to make them look cool with my pants when I’m not wearing slim 60s denim and sitting on a mini-motorcycle as Mr. Paul Newman was.

First I started with my pants crammed inside, but it takes time and it takes work to get them in there alright, and the resulting look is undefined and essentially dowdy.

Pulling the pants out streamlined the silhouette, but I can only think of electricians and dishwasher delivery men wearing them this way.

Neither in nor out was working, so I finally tried my pants the way I normally wear them, cuffed up twice. So far that gets me and my boots nearest that Newman photograph so I’ll roll along that way and see how often I end up wearing these biker-y boots I spent all year yearning for.

(Slimmer pants will probably help too. I’ve loved these canvas, khaki ones quite a bit, but half a year without fried chicken and chocolate milk and they’re just too big now.)