Wild card inside.

I can't say I bumped into Tim Gunn today because I didn't make any contact with him. I didn't accidentally walk into him and I didn't stop to say I was a fan of his work. There was nothing. I saw him and walked on by.

Well, I caught a glimpse of a terrifically dapper white-haired man with a rolled-up full-length umbrella tucked under his arm inspecting the baked goods at a grocery store. I couldn't be sure, and didn't want to stare. So I gathered my fruit and my chocolate and walked past him to the next aisle and ducked out of sight.

I lingered long enough to hear someone else tell him that she was a huge fan of his work and to hear him thank her, getting secondary auditory confirmation that yes, that is in fact Tim Gunn.

I left, but glanced back when I was outside and he was occupied with something else. The profile clinched it.

Without the umbrella and sharp jacket, he would've been a typical neighborhood resident. If he'd been wearing a long stylish raincoat, he could've been Mr. Gunn. If he'd brought a collapsible umbrella, he could go by Tim to his friends. But all of it together was what made him into Tim Gunn.