A pet peeve of mine is the belief, common among those who consider themselves intellectuals, that an interest in fashion (broadly defined, as in, could be designers, could be well-arranged thrift-store duds) takes something away from a person’s intelligence, such that each trip to H&M knocks another shelf’s worth of Hegel and Heidegger out of one’s brain.H&M? Is that where they sell moisturizers? Can they repatch the elbows on tweed jackets? How about reinvigorating saggy black turtlenecks?