A few shots were grabbed (adhering to our laws), a few solicited, and one actually volunteered.
She embodied the season: scarves and leather, newsboy cap. He looked like Steve McQueen.
A meltingly pretty ensemble of a pink fedora, pink-and-cocoa windowpane coat, blush tights and taupe boots, très rafinée.
Squash shades, from signal orange to mustard, are worn with verve before Montréalers embrace the deeper tones of winter.
At left, the aqua of the scarf tweaks the tang of the orange. And I love a simple beret in an interesting colour.
At right, a boiled-wool jacket, jeans and boots, the favoured footwear here once women stow their sandals.
Le Duc in ochre...
... and this young man in his mustard hoodie.
Such a cute couple buying squash.
I admired her scarf and he beamed at her fondly.
Stripes, shorts, tights, sheepskin boots...
And a clown crowned in sunlight, making twisty animals for little ones.
In a sheltered sunny spot, the afternoon felt nearly summery. They were speaking Spanish, wrapped up in their conversation.
As the old song goes, I've got my love to keep me warm.
I was grateful for many felicitous moments, including those spent in the Passage, and for you, from whom
I've learned so much.