Secret Sharer - NYTimes.com Los Angeles isn't really a pedestrian sort of town. On Wilshire Boulevard's department store row, you park you car or hand it off to a valet, then enter through the back door - which gives you an instant air of entitlement and belonging, like a backstage pass to a magical world. At Neiman Marcus, there's somewhere even more hidden - what I call the secret inside the secret - up the escalator to the second floor, in a five-room suite set behind the Valentino boutique: the workplace of Catherine Bloom, Neiman's personal shopper extraordinaire. Visiting these rooms is like visiting someone's home where her closet is on display and up for grabs. A rack, casually set against the wall in her reception area, holds a classic print blouse from The Row; Neiman's new thin-neck cotton tee, which comes in any color you want; a beaded Kaufmanfranco evening dress to die for - modern, sexy, fitted, sheer and shimmery; the softest Brunello Cucinelli cashmere cardigan; a Stella McCartney jacket, dual-purpose - rock 'n' roll with jeans or with silk pants for the opera; a black Rodarte dress that might have caught your eye on the mannequin downstairs and has almost as much attitude on a hanger. There's a white comfy couch and chairs, soft lights, a glass cooler of fresh lemonade or tea, sparkling water hidden from view and, I imagine, Champagne. And in the middle of what feels like a kind of friendly organized chaos, in black pants, black T-shirt and whatever designer jacket she's wearing that day (so consistent it's practically a uniform) sits Bloom. At the moment, she's all about new fashion. "Suits are in," she says definitively. Skirt suits? "No," she corrects me. Pantsuits. The Row has a great legging. Céline has a beautiful trouser pant. Stella makes a really reliable pant that always fits beautifully. Helmut Lang is making fantastic leggings, leather. Shades of the Doors's "L.A. Woman" run through my head. She goes on to add, "Givenchy is making a beautifully cut pant." And even though you probably already have three (or more) pairs of black silk pants and leggings, you immediately want more of this year's version. Short boots are also trending. "Ankle boots of all different degrees," Bloom says. Ankle boots that you can walk in, ankle boots that are really comfortable, flat rubber soled. And then there's a really high sexy platform. No spiky boots. Even rubber-soled Chanel. You can tell that she's already figured out which goes with which pants. If you ask Bloom why her clients come to her, she insists, modestly, that it's about "time," that most of them, extremely busy professionals, don't have the time to shop. It's a diverse group that includes Ann Colgin of Colgin Cellars and the film producer Joel Silver, who says that whether "it's a gift or if it's a coat for me, she gets it. And she's always on the other end of the phone, she's always available. Bloom also has the remarkable ability to remember what her clients like individually and in the case of a special event, she will check with other Neiman Marcus stores, and sometimes even the designer houses themselves, to see if anyone has bought the same dress, just to make sure that no one else is wearing your outfit at the party. Bloom is acutely aware of what looks good on a person. If it doesn't look good on you, no matter how much it costs, she won't let you take it out the door. But that's only half the story: she also has an uncanny eye for the next big thing in fashion. Her judgment has become so influential that Neiman Marcus buyers regularly take her with them to the Paris fashion shows. As one L.A. insider says, "If Catherine Bloom likes it, it never makes it to the floor. You can only find it in her suite. She was the first to spot the appeal of Barbara Tfank's satiny coats. Kate Mulleavy and Laura Mulleavy, the designers of Rodarte, credit Bloom for establishing their brand at Neiman Marcus stores and tell me over e-mail that she "has a way of integrating high-concept runway looks into her clients' everyday lives. We have learned an enormous amount from her. Bloom began her fashion career in Seattle when she was 10. She would go with her grandmother Birdye Wienir to the extraordinary department store I. Magnin (which sadly no longer exists). She would put together outfits for her grandmother, who was gorgeous and had a bit of a clothes (and shoe) habit herself. When Bloom was 12, her grandmother told her, "You can do that, but only if it's a real job. I'm going to pay you $25 an hour. That was quite a lot in those days. She insisted that Catherine keep a record of her hours and send her an invoice. And a star was born. When Bloom was 18, she came to Neiman Marcus - it was the summer before she was to start at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in Los Angeles - and she never left. She was spotted that first summer by the directress of the couture salon, Sally Aminoff, who encouraged Bloom's taste and skill with clients. She worked at Neiman the whole time she was at F.I.D.M., where she majored in merchandising and retail. She never learned to sew. But she does know what's wrong with the way something fits and can direct a seamstress to fix it. Bloom is both an oasis of calm and a current of excitement. Part of what grounds her is her 22-year marriage to Michael Frey, an entrepreneur and Las Vegas restaurateur. Frey spends Monday to Friday afternoon in Vegas, while Bloom stays in L. A. in their canyon home decorated with shades of white that could only be picked by someone who spends her life specializing in gradations of color. This includes an amazing antique white frieze on the dining room wall that I couldn't figure out how she got home from Paris. I've always maintained that if I did live alone even part of the time (not that I'm advocating it), I would actually do what Bloom does: get to the gym by 6 a.m. It's that strict regimen that has helped her maintain her size 4 figure, and it gives her the kind of buoyant, nearly restless energy her job requires. Sure enough, at the end of the few days I spent with Bloom, something new captures her attention: her new thing is lingerie, particularly the gorgeous, sheer, flapperlike collection of Carine Gilson from Brussels.