New York ? Back when LeBron James chose to make fashion statements with throwback jerseys rather than $1,500 suits, sports writers didn’t need a garment translator.

We knew our Wes Unseld No. 41 Washington Bullets vintage top from our George Gervin No. 44 San Antonio Spurs vintage top.

Oh, how we longed for those days Thursday night when James and others walked across the Madison Square Garden Theater stage at the NBA draft.

We didn’t need Tom Tolbert for expert analysis. We needed Joan Rivers to help distinguish Armani from Yves St. Laurent; Brooks Brothers from Brooks Robinson.

Can’t you hear Joan say, “LeBron, LeBron, can you come over here for a word, sweetie? You look absolutely fabulous, darling. This material is radiant, sublime. You must introduce me to your clothier.”

I didn’t know who or what a clothier was until this week, when the Associated Press news wire carried a feature on Cary Mitchell, a famed Charlotte, N.C., clothier who designed a draft night suit for James. Mitchell also made suits for James’ friend and rival Carmelo Anthony, picked third by the Denver Nuggets.

I know what you’re thinking.

Who cares what the kid wears as long as he can knock down a 15-foot jumper with consistency? The Cavaliers drafted a potential franchise cornerstone, not a future runway model.

But nowadays the two aren’t mutually exclusive. The distinction between athletes and movie stars is becoming more blurred with each ESPY Awards ceremony.

Almost every newspaper in the country carried a picture or some mention of James’ suit in their Friday editions. The New York Times — which devoted an entire story to the players’ draft-night formal wear — described his outfit as a “roomy, thunderbolt-white linen suit with satin trim and diamond stud earrings the size of Milk Duds.”

Thunderbolt white?

Was that hue in your box of 64 Crayola crayons?

A handful of writers leaned over a rail, and one of them asked James, “What color is your suit?” as though he were Denzel Washington at the Oscars.

Most sports hacks have the fashion sense of Rodney Dangerfield. Our idea of chic is the latest line of golf shirts at the local pro shop.

France will develop gratitude, Eminem will sing country, Bill will only have eyes for Hillary and the Red Sox will win a World Series thanks to an error by a Mets first baseman before a sports writer appears of the cover of GQ.

By contrast, athletes have become fixtures in the magazine. James, Anthony and Darko Milicic did GQ photo shoots Tuesday.

Like it or not, your young sports heroes also are cultural icons. Somebody asked Anthony this week if the 19-year-old felt as though he were a “citizen of a hip-hop nation.”

“Hip-hop is not just music right now,” Anthony said thoughtfully. “It represents the young and up-and-coming, so yeah, I affiliate myself with it.”

Anthony was decked out in a gray Mitchell-designed suit with a smart yellow shirt. He and James hardly were the only sharply dressed men at the draft. All of the high-profile picks were outfitted in stunning attire.

Nobody here buys off the rack at Al’s Big and Tall.

Clothiers often provide marquee picks with free suits — and clothing for their families — in hopes of currying future business. Six tailors reportedly made suits for Nike’s $90 million pitchman.

In a draft that offered zero suspense for the St. Vincent-St. Mary graduate, he opted to create his own by keeping his suit selection a secret.

He decided not to wear Mitchell’s four-button, cream-colored creation and instead said he went with a white suit tailored by “Carl and Billy from Chicago.”

Ask for them by name.

James looked dazzling, the Cavaliers’ white knight in shining linen. To be honest, a Jim Brown No. 32 throwback would have sufficed.

But what do I know, I’m a sports writer.