While paparazzi crowded in on the diminutive, blond-haired gamine, fashionistas seated across the runway had a hard time pinning the right name to her face. “That’s Ashley,” declared one bleary-eyed editor. “Mary-Kate has that, you know …”—she fluttered her hand around her noggin–“reddish-brown thing going on.” As it happens, it was indeed Mary-Kate, her hair restyled and now a much closer match to her sister’s.

D.J.-ing at the same even were a duo that go by the name Andrew Andrew, who dress alike and finish each other’s sentences.

The alluring confoundingness of identical—or near-identical—twins has suddenly become an irresistible concept for the fashion industry.

“Twins” abound in current advertising campaigns, most of which debuted in the September issues of the fashion glossies. Not biological siblings, but otherwise highly recognizable faces from the runway ranks, stripped of their identities and made up to look like eerie doppelgängers instead. Alberta Ferretti’s campaign, shot by photographer Steven Meisel, features models Julia Stegner and Adina Fohlin, wigged and fixed in identical poses around a Los Angeles mansion. Jil Sander, whose brand image is forever grim and intellectual, also pairs women—one in profile; the other facing the camera. In the campaign’s men’s version, the models, though facially less similar than their female counterparts, look almost conjoined in their matching all-black garb and uniform stance.

Valentino, meanwhile, opts for intimidation, with a pair of ice queens reminiscent of Robert Palmer’s stoic “I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On” femmebots. Same for Mulberry.

What are the houses trying to tell us?

“It’s kind of creepy and scary,” said the stylist Phillip Bloch with a shudder.

Indeed. Did the ghost twins from The Shining grow up and start shopping in SoHo?

“I think people are always turned on by that narcissistic mirror image,” Mr. Bloch continued. “So that might have something to do with it.”

The House of Ferretti said that, far from the macabre, it had the modern woman in mind. “My idea was to reflect the reality of contemporary life, in which women use the game of duality to better assert their complex personality,” Ms. Ferretti, who has been described as the “Ralph Lauren of Italy,” said in a press release announcing the campaign’s launch. The company showed the spring collection of its more casual line, Philosophy, at New York Fashion Week on Monday, Sept. 10 and is a favorite of celebrity customers Christina Ricci, Natalie Portman and Uma Thurman.

Newsweek style and culture reporter Dana Thomas, the author of the best-selling new book Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Luster (Penguin), about the corporate takeover of fashion, preferred to read the twins imagery in advertising as a “parable” about market forces. “These companies are trying to cater to the really wealthy—that old niche clientele that they’ve always had—while also going for ‘the twin’ on a more middle-market scale,” she said by phone on Wednesday, Sept. 5, after a signing attended by her pal Dominick Dunne. “It’s like the rich twin and the poor twin,” Ms. Thomas said. “The one who made it and the one who lives a sort of average life.”

She also cited Diane Arbus’ 1967 photograph of identical twin girls. “You know fashion people revere her!” she said.

The twins fixation is manifest not only in advertising but also in the magazines’ editorial content. The cover shot of Vogue Italia, also photographed by Mr. Meisel, evokes them. As does the cover of the August 2007 issue of the French glossy Numéro. On it, hot-stepping newbie models Caroline Trentini and Masha Novoselova, shot by photographer Greg Kadel, appear as near-identical biker chicks, sporting black leather Hermès gloves and motorcycle caps. This marks the first time that Mr. Kadel, who has photographed 17 covers for Numéro, has used a duo.

“Group dynamics are an interesting study,” he said. “Even in the most rebellious and anarchistic cultures, the people who affiliate themselves tend to talk, act and dress alike, which is ironic, I suppose.”

The use of twins to plumb the depths of the fashion world’s psyche was the theme of the 1991 film Lies of the Twins, starring Isabella Rossellini (who has a twin sister, Isotta, in real life!) and Aidan Quinn—with Iman appearing in one flamboyant get-up after another. Rossellini plays an aging model who learns that her boyfriend, a psychiatrist played by Quinn, has a darker, sexier twin brother. Guess the rest.

“Society likes to think of things dualistically—wholes composed of two related yet complementary halves,” said Dr. Nancy Segal, herself a fraternal twin, and author of Entwined Lives and Indivisible by Two, psychological studies of biological twins. “Identical twins offer us the perfect model for that.”

But is the twinsplosion fashion’s most honest self-critique—an exploration of the good/evil that resides within us all!—or yet another high-resolution fantasy?

“In our case, one and one equals three,” the Dutch fashion designers Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren, a.k.a. Viktor & Rolf, wrote in a characteristically cryptic e-mailed statement. The duo, whose muse is the actress Tilda Swinton and who last year designed a one-time collection for H&M, has cultivated a twin-like public persona by affecting sameness in dress and comportment. “Something happens that we ourselves cannot explain,” they wrote. “But we now could not imagine being fashion designers without this partnership. … It feels like being part of a twin.”

Whatever, last Saturday evening, after the show at Gagosian gallery, which represents Mr. Hirst, nice Levi designer Adrian Nyman told us about the genesis of the collaboration, which took about four months.

"I had done a collection that Damien had bought at the Barneys department store that he really liked," he said. "So, he contacted me because he wanted to have more of the range"—Britspeak for line—"and through there we just struck up a rapport and I said, 'Would you like to do something?' I had this idea of Warhol with the new Warhol—you know, Damien has taken that torch. So, that was kind of the nexus that we jumped off from. And Damien created all this artwork just for the fashion show, so on many levels it was a great experience."

The resulting apparel: a pair of jeans, a mini skirt and a "Classic Trucker," all done in a rainbow striped pattern.

Ms. Hardison, clad in a bare-shouldered summer print dress, was her usual outspoken self.

"I'm doing a forum next week to discuss the lack of the black image in fashion," she said.

We asked her opinion of young Chanel Iman, the single African-American model to grace the recent "The World's Next Top Models" cover of Vogue magazine. Surprisingly, Ms. Hardison made a gagging motion.

"I don't think she's exciting!" she shrieked.  "Get me as controversial as you want, because that's who I am! I think she's very childlike.  I like her—I think she's a very wonderful little girl—but there's no one exciting out there right now."

A couple of years back, Ms. Hardison was behind another, now-legendary, Vogue photo spread—organized in collaboration with the original
Iman—which showcased an intergenerational coterie of black models who broke ground in the business, beginning with Iman herself, leading
to Beverly Johnson, Naomi Campbell, Alek Wek, all the way to the French beauty Noémie Lenoir.   Today, Ms. Hardison lamented, the
pickings are slim and slimmer.

"The little girl that I do like is a girl named Hollis," she said, referring to bubbly Wa'Keema Hollis, a native of Jackson, Tennessee. "She has a l'il personality."

What about the white girls?

"That's who I was talking about!" Ms. Hardison said.  "Who else is there? Sorry to be so honest."

A budding actor, he recently won widespread acclaim for his role as an IV-positive, gay teenager in the HBO special, Life Support, opposite Queen Latifah.

"It was a blessing to be a part of," he said modestly.

Ms. Silberstein, meanwhile, said she was getting reacquainted with our metropolis—if a bit reluctantly. "You know, we grew up between here and L.A., so I have a lot of friends here. But I'm not a big fan of the city—I'm a beach girl!" she said. She has the same prominent eyes and Roman nose as her sister, Tracee Ellis Ross, star of the CW sitcom
Girlfriends. "And, also, I party too hard in New York," she added with a chuckle.

Mary J. Blige's partying days are long gone, evident from her near-sullen composure in the front row. Record industry executive Martin Kendu Isaacs, a.k.a. Mr. Blige, whom the Queen of Hip Hop Soul credited, on Oprah's couch, no less, with saving her from a blighted life of booze, was keeping the press corps in tight check. "One question!" he barked at any and all reporters ambling within five seats of his honey.

"How are you enjoying Fashion Week?" The Transom asked—a nebulous question, but, hell, we were under pressure!

"Yes, I am," Ms. Blige intoned—her voice was like molasses!

"Thank you, buddy!" Mr. Isaacs concluded. Then he smiled and consented to one more query. How sweet!

"I'm a big supporter," Ms. Blige piped up, referring to Baby Phat CEO, Kimora Lee Simmons.

And that was that.

here was visual documentation of lots of labels and footwear, air-kissing and cosmopolitans—drinks, not people.

Ms. Craig-Martin, who shoots for Vogue and Purple (not People!) and has worked on ad campaigns for Tracey Reese and Kate Spade, among others, welcomed an eclectic group of well-wishers, including novelist A.M. Homes, Sotheby's auctioneer Tobias Meyer and curator Clarissa Dalrymple.

The photographer is on the faculty of the School of Visual Arts, and her department chair, Stephen Frailey, looking Hampton-tanned himself, also showed up. "I love that—he Brooks Brothers and the little pig in the blanket,” he said, pointing to one of the pictures.

"Yup," Ms. Craig-Martin said. "In the Hamptons, even the wieners are Brooks Brothers."

"You look at everyone from Martin Luther King to Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe—both alive and not alive—Mickey Mouse, Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mickey Mantle," said Mr. Hilfiger, who arrived with his beautiful girlfriend of a year and a half, Dee Ocleppo. "You look at everyone from, maybe Jackson Pollack, to …" He paused.

"Norman Rockwell?" suggested Ms. Ocleppo.

"Very good, very good," Mr. Hilfiger concurred.

"See, I'm out here for a reason!" exclaimed she, a stunning former model.

In one corner of the party, “iconic” American images—gulp, Uncle Ben and Ronald McDonald among them—were projected onto a screen. Then, Debbie Harry performed.
Jewelry designer Waris Singh Ahluwalia popped in, fresh from the Venice Film Festival, where filmmaker Wes Anderson's latest offering, The Darjeeling Limited, premiered. Mr. Ahluwalia's got a part in the movie. And no, we didn't ask him about co-star Owen Wilson’s mood during on the set either

It was great; standing ovation," Mr. Ahluwalia said of the film's reception. "I'm excited to be home in New York again—I haven't been here in three months. But I miss the water taxis."

Counted among the city’s most prominent art dealers, with a world-class stable that includes pyschodramatic British sensation Tracey Emin, Lehmann Maupin started out in the mid-90’s at a location in SoHo, later relocating to a loft space on 26th Street designed by Rem Koolhaas. And now they are one of a spate of galleries erecting outposts on or near the Bowery.

“The space is a lot like a classic SoHo space, without columns,” said Mr. Maupin, elegant down to his tan tasseled loafers. “It reminds us a lot of our first gallery on Greene Street—it kind of has those proportions. So we’re kind of excited about that.” He said they had taken a 10-year lease with an option to buy. “So, it’s a commitment, it’s a real commitment. It’s not just about art; it’s about, kind of like, energy? I think that there are great restaurants and I think there are really great small businesses, whether it’s boutiques or bars or, you know, clubs, nightclubs. Our building is very much like The Box”—the dinner-theatre nightspot co-owned by musical-theater scion Simon Hammerstein—“which is about four doors down. You know what I mean?”

The daisy chain of gallery openings will stretch through the fall, culminating on Dec. 1 with the inauguration of The New Museum of Contemporary Art’s spanking new edifice on Bowery at Prince, punctuated by a huge sculpture exhibition called “Unmonumental.”

The artistic landscape of the Bowery now appears to be under swift and purposeful redesign. But this is merely the endpoint of years of rumbling, prospecting and speculating about which galleries would stake out what territory in the area, presumably enticed by the New Museum’s decision to build there. The museum’s executive director, Lisa Phillips, compared her institution’s galvanizing effect to Dia’s arrival in Chelsea in 1987. “It was kind of a wide, open frontier for adventurous people to pioneer,” she said. “And they did.”

Unconfirmed reports had it that powerhouses Gagosian (which has two locations in Chelsea, one on Madison Avenue, two in London and one in Beverly Hills) and David Zwirner (with three exhibition spaces in Chelsea plus an affiliate entity, Zwirner & Wirth, on East 69th Street) were jangling keys to property in the area. “That’s not true,” Zwirner’s public relations manager, Julia Joern, wrote in an e-mail on Monday, Aug. 13. “Strange rumor we’ve been asked about for about two years.” A representative of the Gagosian Gallery, meanwhile, simply said: “That kind of information is unavailable at this time.”

The owner of Deitch Projects, located on 76 Grand Street, said it had considered launching a satellite on or close to the Bowery, but didn’t follow up. “We were looking in the area, but we found something that we like much better,” Jeffrey Deitch said by phone. “We’ve decided to do something completely different, something dramatic,” he said, declining to be more specific but adding that he’ll be pleased to welcome back to the neighborhood galleries that had migrated from SoHo to Chelsea at the turn of the century.

But Dealer Jonas Gat’s eponymous gallery spent 12 years on Madison at 82nd Street, one block from the Met, and on Sept. 20 will reopen at 195 Bowery, one block from the New Museum. “I wanted to be next to it,” said Mr. Gat, who found out about the museum’s plans about two years. “I got a place the next day,” he said. “I was the first to make a move, I was told.” The Gat gallery’s inaugural exhibition is a survey of the work of Judit Reigl, a major figure of post-World War II art who, Mr. Gat says, is little known in the U.S. but who was a peer of de Kooning and the New York School.

Meanwhile, there’s a big, black dot on the visitors’ map on the Web site of Smith-Stewart—the gallery owned by former P.S. 1 curator Amy Smith-Stewart, already open for business at 53 Stanton—that illustrates its direct lateral proximity to the New Museum. “The New Museum is obviously the attraction,” said Ms. Smith-Stewart. “It will definitely be hosting gallery tours around the neighborhood.”

Having spent the past decade curating at institutions, Ms. Smith-Stewart, 33, is just getting her feet wet as a dealer. “I signed the lease, and a week-and-a-half later I opened my space,” she said, laughing. “I changed my hours the first month like three times. It was very hard for me to get a gauge of what other people were doing in the neighborhood. Now galleries are trying to reach out and say, ‘O.K., let’s try to do our openings around the same night,’ that sort of thing.”

Joining Smith-Stewart at 53 Stanton is Luxe Gallery, which opens on Sept. 6 with a group show, “All the Way,” and another gallery founded by Swedish director-curator Rodrigo Mallea Lira.

“The artists that I’ve been visiting and asking to show are like, ‘So, what’s the context?’” said Augusto Arbizo, director at the uptown gallery Greenberg Van Doren, which will debut its outpost, Eleven Rivington, at that address on Sept. 26. “There is no context—you’re going to be making it as we go along.”

Mr. Arbizo says that in opening a space in the less conspicuously consumptive Bowery area, around the corner from a respected noncommercial art institution, his gallery is focused on the art itself, not the trappings of the art world.

“It’s not about a ‘brand-name’ dealer or a ‘brand-name’ space,” he said. “You’re definitely not going to leave Eleven Rivington and go, ‘Oh, my God, that was such a beautifully designed space,’ and you’re not going to go, ‘Oh, my God, Augusto is a great director.’ You’re going to leave the gallery and be thinking about how good or not good the art is.”

Many are comparing the Lower East Side’s art scene—the physical atmosphere, at least—to East London’s dispersed and understated environs. “It’s a maze,” proclaimed Ms. Smith-Stewart. “It’s old New York, so the streets are really much smaller and you really have to look to find spaces.”

“The architecture on the Bowery does not leave a lot of very large natural column-free spaces,” said the dealer Zach Feuer, founder of the New Art Dealers Alliance.

“It’s gonna have a poured concrete floor; it’s gonna have color-corrected fluorescent lighting; it will feel more like a European gallery space, I guess,” said David Maupin about his outpost. “You know, because it’s not huge, it’s very intimate.”

And Jeanne Greenberg Rohatyn, owner of Salon 94, on East 94th at Fifth Avenue, had this to say about her satellite gallery, dubbed Salon 94 Freemans, which will open on Freemans Alley, off Rivington, on Sept. 12: “You walk down this alleyway, you already are taken outside of New York, you already feel like you’re in, kind of like, an Amsterdam street. You just can’t locate it as specifically New York.”

After maintaining spaces in both Chelsea and the Bowery, Jimi Dams moved his gallery, Envoy, from 22nd Street to Chrystie Street in January. He agonized over how to break the news to his artists, which include promising novices as well as high-selling midcareer and mature talent. “I thought they were gonna kill me,” Mr. Dams said. But “there was not one artist, not one, that told me, ‘Do you think that’s wise?’ None!” he said, incredulous. “They all were like, ‘Yeah, it’s awful here, you need to get outta there. Yeah, close it!’ I was very happy.”

A jovial Belgian, Mr. Dams wears skull-faced metal rings on every finger. Below his gallery, in the building’s basement, is a bar, Home Sweet Home, where, he said, all gallery after-parties are held and a series called “Envoy Presents” brings new bands to perform.

“Maybe they think that they get lost in the art shopping mall that is Chelsea,” Mr. Dams said of the response his artists had to the move to Chrystie Street. “What they want to do, or what they want to say, or what they want to bring across gets lost.”

But that’s the thing about brave new worlds: They get more and more populous and increasingly less open.

“North of Delancey a lot might change in a short amount of time, probably even faster than what happened in Chelsea,” said Mr. Dams.

“What happened in Chelsea took like about, say, 10 years to go to the point where it became really oversaturated. It’s gonna be faster here, I think, but only north of Delancey, not south.”

Why?

“It’s Chinatown,” he said. “The Chinese won’t stand for it. And I’m very happy with my Chinese landlord!”

Socialite Genevieve Jones looked beautiful in her daisy headband.  Man about town Paul Johnson-Calderon chose a red one (with a matching sash around his waist). to accessorize his tuxedo. The artist duo Andrew Andrew, who dress as twins à la Gilbert-and-George and Viktor-and-Rolf, sported matching ones.  “We bought them in a Japanese supermarket in Hawaii,” they boasted. 

Top model Agnyess Deyn was a standout in her canary-yellow mini-dress by London label Preen.  The Manchester, England, native recently moved to New York.  “I’m still in my honeymoon period with the city,” she said with a smile.

The actress Rosario Dawson, stunning in Max Azria (the design label sponsored the event), said she’s looking forward to Fourth of July Weekend in the Hamptons, where her buddies are throwing a big bash.  Last summer in the Hamptons, The Transom kicked it with Ms. Dawson and her madcap moms, Isabel.  This year, she said, she feels a bit out of it.  “Oh, I don’t even know all the parties,” she said.  “No one ever tells me, I’m never invited anywhere, you know that!”

But attention comic book fanatics: Ms. Dawson is the prototype for a crime-fighting heroine in a comic book named O.C.T.: Occult Crimes Taskforce.  The trade paperback of the first four issues is coming out June 13, and shortly thereafter Ms. Dawson hits the road on a book tour. Whee!

Conspicuously absent from the crowd were the art-world power brokers--curators, critics, gallerists and the like – most of whom are jetting their way to Europe and the month-long jamboree of big exhibitions there.  “There’s only a handful left,” said Whitney director Adam Weinberg of the art gang.  But, no worries, the poor artists themselves are still here, he said. Oh, phew.

Luba Azria, wife of Max, was introduced to Walis Singh Ahluwalia, the jewelry designer.  Ms. Azria, perhaps inspired by Mr. Singh Ahluwalia’s turban, decided to inform him that she’d once attended a great Eastern-meditation camp, of sorts.  “It was a totally amazing experience. It changed my life,” she said.  Mr. Singh Ahluwalia blinked and nodded blankly.

“I’m building a big, beautiful house for all my friends, brick by brick,” he later said about his gem company, House of Waris. 

At last year’s party, Moby told The Transom that he’d washed his hands of the whole affair (“I’m bored,” he’d said.)  This year, he didn’t wash his hands after peeing.  The head-shorn musician turned from the men’s room urinals and headed straight for the door.  “What I love about this party in particular is it’s this odd combination of socialites and degenerate artists,” he said.  “And they sort of rub off on each other.”

“We want to democratize the editorial contribution in a magazine framework, where it’s open to readers to become creators,” said the Nigerian-born Mr. Udé, whose contributors include the professional dandy and partygoer Patrick McDonald, F.I.T. professor Valerie Steele and reedy Russian model Larissa Kulikova. “It’s kind of like”—you know what’s coming—“a blog in print, in a way.”

Just what is the deal with those expensive downtown glossies like aRUDE, euphemistically referred to as the “style press”?

“It’s a term that came out of France, where magazines that were high-end boutique magazines would be called la presse de style,” said David Renard, author of the recently released book The Last Magazine (Universe), in which he argues that the survival of the magazine-publishing industry at large lies in innovations made by the independents. “But instead of just being style as in fashion, style in essence means more design, in a sense, or trendy or cool.”

Lafayette Smoke Shop, located at the corner of Lafayette and Spring, is a hotbed of the pricey publications. “All tourists; many, many tourists” is how the store’s manager described his clientele—along with the moneyed Soho residents who need to fill coffee-table space, of course.

“I bought one called SOON, in Chinese, French and in English—$70 cover price!” said Samir Husni, chair of the journalism department at the University of Mississippi and author of the annual Samir Husni’s Guide to New Magazines, now in its 22nd year. “You can tell that those boutique magazines are done for the people within the industry, rather than the people outside the industry. It’s a celebration of our inner circle. Most of them you can find in New York, but the minute you reach Des Moines, they’re gone!”

But most of the style press is sustained not by newsstand sales but from ads taken out by—and sometimes custom-designed by—high-end fashion houses, retailers and other luxury brands. “There’s no way they can make money without advertising,” Mr. Renard said. “They’d have to be selling at $20, $30 a piece—sometimes that’s impossible! They want to keep the American concept of low prices.”

To get the most desirable advertisers, editors have to woo first-rate style mavens, photographers and graphic designers—usually friends or friends of friends—to contribute work for free. (“Diane”—as in von Furstenberg—“will always take out an ad with us,” Mr. Udé said.) Then they have to get the finished product into the right hands. “In New York, with the right wholesaler for New York City, you can make 500 copies look like you are everywhere. Everywhere!” Mr. Renard said. “To whom? To the advertisers and to the tribe that you’re trying to attract, let’s say the downtown ‘cool set.’ Only 500 copies—that’s 30 stores.”

Most of the magazines are primarily visual, repositories for art photography. One exception is 032c, published by partners Jörg Koch and Sandra von Mayer-Myrtenhain out of Berlin; the latest issue, which will retail for $20.99, arrives in New York at the end of May and contains lengthy essays on contemporary art and politics. “Readers are editors, artists, gallerists, architects, students at Columbia and N.Y.U., and, of course, fashion people—designers, P.R., photographers, stylists,” Mr. Koch said of his shiny export.

Trace ($5.99) is one title that has extended its brand beyond print. In 2003, the magazine started Trace TV, a cable-television channel in France, which is now available in the U.S. on the Dish Network. In Trace’s editorial offices on Broome Street, editors converse in a kind of lingua universale, lapsing from English into French and occasionally Spanish, with intermittent exclamations in other tongues. Editor in chief Claude Grunitzky, 36, the son of a West African diplomat who himself speaks six languages, founded the magazine in 1996 in modest digs in London. Over the next 10 years, he relocated the operation to downtown Manhattan and morphed into a kind of style-press mogul. The magazine is now published in three separate editions—American, British and French—with each distributed to appropriate linguistic markets worldwide. Mr. Grunitzky calls himself a “cross-cultural guru.”

“When you look at these ‘style press,’ what they give us is the cornerstone from which we can build the future for print,” Mr. Husni grandly claimed. “Because those magazines cannot exist or have the impact that they have if they existed in any other medium – not online, not on TV.”

At any rate, Mr. Udé eagerly awaits the results of his little editorial experiment. “It’s not easy to do this,” he said. “But thank God it’s not easy! If it would be easy, then every Dick and Harry would be doing it.”

“There’s a rumor about me being a racist,” Mr. Hilfiger told The Transom on Thursday, April 19, at real-estate developer Josh Guberman’s launch of his new boutique condominium complex on East 84th Street. The rumor in question started many years ago, as an anonymous item circulated on the Internet. It alleged that Mr. Hilfiger, while sitting on Oprah Winfrey’s couch, had confirmed hearsay that he was against Asians and African-Americans wearing his clothes. Ms. Winfrey then, it was said, kicked him off the set.

But “I was never on her show!” Mr. Hilfiger said. “Oprah and I are really good friends. She said, ‘You were never on the show; you never said it—I know you’re not that way.’ I said, ‘Right!’ She said, ‘Let’s debunk that rumor.’ I said, ‘O.K., great.’”

And so Mr. Hilfiger is finally appearing for real on The Oprah Winfrey Show, in a segment scheduled to air on Tuesday, May 1.

More tidbits from Tommy: He recently bought an apartment in the Plaza and celebrated a one-year anniversary dating erstwhile model Dee Ocleppo. “People have no idea what I’m really like,” he said. “I have two sons—one is white, the other is black. Nobody even knows that. My son’s a rapper.”

And what is Li’l Hilfiger’s stage name?

“Rich Hill,” Mr. Hilfiger said. “He doesn’t want to use my real name.”