I went to a Broadway show the other night. When I arrived at my seat at the Lyceum Theatre for Nick Kroll and John Mulaney’s hilarious “Oh, Hello,” I took a look around the audience and quickly realized that I was the only one in a suit, let alone a tie. It looked like a crowd at a Yankees game.

This is where we are.

Jeans, sneakers, t-shirts, hoodies, shorts, flip-flops, baseball caps… at a Broadway show. I also hear that it’s not much different at the opera or the ballet. It’s no wonder why so many guys rely on anonymous nude or semi-nude profile photos on smartphone apps to get laid, because in person with clothes on, their chances are bleak. It’s a boner killer.

Our culture is awash in the relentless pursuit of super casual comfort. I look around and see a world dressed in the sartorial equivalent of mac ’n’ cheese, bringing the cozy, fleecy, stretchy, onesie, elastic waistband comfort of the couch at home with them wherever they go. If I didn’t know any better, I’d presume everyone was on his way to or from the gym. But one look at the bodies infected with the athleisure virus, and I know better. If it’s about dressing for the job you want, I’m seeing armies of aspiring camp counselors and intramural softball coaches.