Even if you don’t think it is “your thing,” there is something universally appealing and eternally American about the dive bar experience. A low, ramshackle building with several lifetime’s worth of stories glued to the walls with the sticky breath of a million spilled drinks. Even if you stumble through this door on the worst day of your life, a few hours later things don’t seem as terrible as you made them out to be.

If you behave yourself, no one has a bad time at a dive bar. Bring cash, tip generously, know when to leave people alone. Also, there is Triva on Tuesday.

My first real shoot back in the saddle, with lenses and batteries in the holster, working with a model in a location I was fortunate to have total access to.

Izzy joined me in Asheville, from Atlanta, at the Burger Bar long before it opened for the day. I told her my idea and what I wanted it to look like and she delivered the hair and wardrobe to knock it out of the park.