I was very young when I heard this story for the first time. 

My schoolteacher read it to us. 

I have never forgotten it. 

There is nothing better than a great short story. 

‘La Parure’ pops up now and then in my day to day. 

That way of dressing. 

That Era. 

That fashion. 

That style. 

It happened this afternoon. 

I was on a ride. 

I rode through downtown. 

I saw ‘her.’ 

The cyclist that reigns supreme. 

She was far ahead, but I knew it was ‘her.’ 

I slowed down and rode about a hundred metres behind. 

I wanted to watch for a couple of minutes. 

‘Take it in.’ 

I think, no, I know, of all the cyclists I have respect for, she reigns supreme. 

She has it down. 

She makes it effortless. 

She knows no other way. 

She has been doing it her entire life. 

She looks fantastic. 

She has casual confidence. 

She is in a class all her own. 

She rides on her own. 

She is in a world of her own. 

She is going somewhere. 

I am not sure where. 

But I can guarantee you, it is interesting. 

‘The Ritz?’ 

A style all her own. 

Pearl Necklace. 

Dress. 

Blouse. 

Cardigan. 

Purse in basket. 

Kerchief. 

One speed. 

Pedal backward to stop. 

Pristine thirty-year-old bike. 

Oblivious to everyone. 

I am in awe of women like her. 

They never let go. 

They held on. 

Thank you! 

I hope they never ever go away. 

I hope you have a few in your neighbourhood. 

There are not many of them ‘left.’ 

‘La Parure’ 

Insert Afternoon Tea emoji here. 

‘There is another way to ride.’