The Times‘ chief lady-blogger Eric Wilson filed a devastatingly catty piece on Lindsay Lohan’s new job as the “artistic adviser” of Ungaro, on the occasion of that house’s Paris show. (Mr. Ungaro retired five years ago; the company was sold in 1996 and then again in 2005, this time to the founder of Veo Systems, which was a insanely-valued dot-com-bubble-era company that-wait for it!-wrote XML applications for e-commerce. Wow, how magical, banking on the Internet! Who could have invented that?) In any event, Wilson quite accurately describes the horror that the high-end fashion people feel at the sudden intrusion of La Lohan. But what he just tiptoes up to is that: this horror is exactly their ploy. Who has talked about Ungaro in the last ten years? No one. They have successfully short-circuited the closed-conversation of the fashion world and pushed the brand into the tabloid arena, where real humans exist now. No one cares if the fashion editor of Le Figaro is disgusted, because it is not 1977-and how many Twitter followers does she have? Zero, that is how many. Sad times, welcome to the end of the intelligent glamour culture, whatever, and though the 800 people with some regard for intellectually-valid high-end clothing will no longer buy Ungaro, maybe the 800,000 people who think Rachel Zoe is a good thing will.