I first fell for the denim shirt last fall in Paris, while perusing the mega-stores on Rue de Rennes. Parisian girls have the peculiar ability to make nearly any article of clothing look chic and effortless, but one girl was extraordinary. She tucked the blue button down into cut-off Levi’s jean shorts, worn over black tights and with black leather lace-up ankle boots. The outfit, paired with her retro, fringe-like bangs, exuded French rockstar at its foxiest.

My own denim shirt is something I swiped from the men’s section of the Gap. I’ve come to think of it as less shirt and more light jacket, a departure from the cardigans and hoodies littering my wardrobe. It’s a satisfying surprise when worn atop a dapper sweater, or underneath a sharp blazer.

However, my denim shirt’s most remarkable quality has little to do with fashion merit; rather, it has a bizarre knack for eliciting commentary. Early in my relationship with the shirt, one roommate eyebrow-ed me and asked about my “Canadian tuxedo,” while another recently christened it my “lucky shirt.” J.Crew’s recent introduction of the Selvedge chambray shirt (haute-speak for “denim shirt”) inspired another friend to send me an e-mail with the subject line, “this outfit reminded me of you…” and a link to the J.Crew model sporting the garment. Perhaps the most obscure comment thus far was the tailgate-induced compliment, “Hey, I like your d.” My perennial favorite is the alarmingly clever “Hey cowgirl.”

The shirt has garnered attention usually reserved for the likes of leopard print jeans, but for me, it’s the simplicity that makes it attractive. Historically, it’s work wear. My father wore his – a Wrangler brand shirt with pearl snap buttons – on hunting trips in the early ’80s when I imagine he also had a toothbrush mustache. But, in 1965 Ingrid Bergman was also caught on camera sporting a denim shirt in a photo titled “Ready For Work;” and therein lies the shirt’s charm: rugged androgyny.

Day-to-day fashion has settled into a pattern of one androgynous look after another. Take plaid shirts; traditionally worn by lumberjacks, they now bear a certain sexiness when donned by women. It’s the “just grabbed it from my boyfriend’s closet” appeal. Or, as J.Crew so aptly describes the Selvedge chambray: “Boyfriend fit – casually chic with a longer shirttail hem and a slightly oversize fit (it’s just like his, only you don’t have to give it back).”

Sure. But even better than the “boyfriend” shirt is my denim shirt, and the simple pleasure that comes with being a woman who can wear it.