Sure, I guess it’s cute to toss your boyfriend’s blazer over your spaghetti straps on a chilly night. Or to snuggle, apres ski, in his big bulky sweater. Or to [NC17 version] pad around his pad wearing nothing but his rumpled oxford and a come-back-to-bed-when-you-finish-those-eggs smile. Or to spend a lazy Sunday lounging about in his beekeeper’s coveralls and giant sombrero. Oh, that’s just me? Mmmkay. Anyway.

Yeah, that’s all cute. Less so, says Crisis in Denim, is when apparel makers call their clothes “boyfriend” clothes. As in: the roomy “boyfriend sweater” (which I guess, things being the way they are, we’ll now go back to calling the “poorboy sweater,” hahaha), the oversized “boyfriend jacket,” a la Lisa Bonet circa 1988, not to mention the boyfriend tee, the boyfriend jeans. This nomenclature, she notes, generally doesn’t work the other way around. (“[C]an you for one moment see menswear designers debuting the Girlfriend Suit at Fashion Week?”) And yeah, there’s something a little ickly aspirational (to say nothing of heteronormative) about it — as if the appeal would be that wearing these clothes says, “Hey! I have a BOYFRIEND!” But maybe that’s reading too much into it. I’m all for comfy (as opposed to other, dare I say, Fashion By Patriarchy looks), but really, maybe “boyfriend” is clothing industry code for “doesn’t really fit.”