“Sidney, this might be a silly question,” I said, careful not to let Shalom Harlow hear me, as she leaned on the bar in a little twill suit and bow tie, “but what is that thing on the back of Shalom’s neck?” Sidney laughed. 

“Oh that’s not silly, sweetie. Go ask her.” 

Shalom smiled and touched the back of her neck, where a giant shiny disc, the  same cherry red as her lips, was clipped to her collar. She pulled it off and held it in her hand like a sand dollar. “It’s a bike reflector!”

Oh! And indeed, in front of the tableau of millenial Vargas girls in handpainted (“Acid Rain”) silks, seersucker stripes and Japanese jerseys, a shiny red bike that designer John Patrick had ridden to the set jauntily leaned on its kickstand. The bicycle, like the collection, was entirely practical and utterly glamorous all at once. Equal parts Harlow: Shalom and Jean.

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