Here is Elle, hanging in Columbus Circle. She loves summer weather and will be sad to see it end, not that cool weather would prevent her from wearing tube tops. Elle is sometimes asked: what are you, are you a bunny? A cat? A wallaby? She never responds to such questions, just fixes the questioner with a silent stare. She is just Elle, 100% New Yorker.

Elle is made of fabric left over from an unsuccessful dress, attempted maybe 30 years ago. When I made her I finally understood why the dress did not work out: the cloth is stiff and unforgiving, and it wrinkles, puckers, and frays easily. What was I thinking when I picked this fabric for a dress? I can’t imagine, but I’m sure it had to do with being in my 20s and stupid. I do think these difficult attributes of the fabric, which make it both tough and fragile at the same time, contribute to Elle’s personality.

Elle’s necklace is a bracelet I bought years ago in New Mexico. It used to be that every time I visited the American West I became overwhelmed by a desire to own turquoise jewelry. I guess I associated turquoise jewelry with a certain kind of woman, someone equally comfortable behind the wheel of a pickup truck or guiding a pony with her knees, someone the red rocks and wide open sky suggested to me I might possibly be capable of being. Once back in NYC, however, it would always turn out that I was not that woman after all, I was a New Yorker who had visited New Mexico. So I happily gave the bracelet to Elle, who, I think, wears it well.

Elle seems to be about redeeming some old, questionable decisions.

Elle’s tote bag, like Rey’s shoes, is made from a Qantas Airlines cosmetics bag that features the work of Australian artist Jacob Leary (www.qantas.com/curates). Her clothes are socks, and her belt is part of a luggage tag.