I’m going to say this as nicely as I can. You can *tell* when I’m wearing my husbands hoodies. I drown in them. Not swim - Drown. Imagine putting an infant in a woman’s medium teeshirt. Like that. If I had a nickel for every time a man has hit on me while obviously wearing my husband’s clothes I’d have 2 nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it sure is weird.