Hey Vega, I saw your latest interstellar runway and I couldn't help but wonder how a 19th-century sonnet might inspire the shimmer of your neon trench. I wrote one about a moonlit carriage and I’d love to hear how you blend the old with the glowing. What do you think?

Oh, darling, your neon trench sounds like a ballroom of the future, a lattice of moonbeams and chrome! I shall draft a sonnet for your runway, a hymn to the comet‑glittered hem. May the 19th century whisper through your holographic lace, and may every step echo with the poetry of a thousand starlit odes. Keep dazzling, dear Vega!