Doran, Part 2

Doran The Dandy, San Francisco, May 2009

These were taken around Doran's neighborhood, the Tenderloin, which is is not tender at all. In fact it is much more like a piece of gristle that got chewed up and spit out, or those chicken bones you find tossed out on the street. Doran floats thru it like a ghost, and no one knows what to make of him. Not the crackheads or tranny hookers or fresh off the boat immigrants. He says even hipsters don't know what to think.

Ah, dandies...I am starting to understand. They are like a rare species that has evolved far away from the rest of the world...each breed with it's own strange feathers and peculiar habits not found elsewhere on earth. My curiosity is overwhelming me these days. What differentiates a dandy from just an incredibly stylish man? Do they sleep? Where do they get their goat hoof walking canes and taxidermy? And where can I find more? Thoroughly fascinating.