At the beginning of February, a large box from Germany arrived at my home in Brooklyn. Inside I found a futuristic, quilted polyester hooded jacket in pure white. “That would go really well at a winter rave,” my husband said when I slipped it over my head. With its sharp angles and preponderance of straps, it looked like something issued to the residents of a colony on Mars to wear on their weekends off from working the potato greenhouse.