Mona

In which our heroine totally paused.

Sitting in the auditorium of the Morgan Library, I peeked over a girl’s shoulder at a drawing of Cher Horowitz. She was clad in a red and black brocade coat, its neck and cuffs fluffed with feathers, that signature red Alaïa dress underneath. She yammers into a chunky black cell phone at her ear, its antenna stretched far beyond her towering updo with a…