Tasting Erika
Erika catches my glance at an after-shoot party in Munich. She is the assistant to the assistant of someone who I've long forgotten. She is drop dead gorgeous, speaks perfect English, and in a very vivacious; not often seen in the German character. She comes to me from across the room. "You are the photographer," she says. I can't tell if it is a question or statement. I just reply in the positive. She wears a low cut blouse, gray skirt, and black heels. She is the business side of fashion.She...