You might think romance is dead. You’ve probably been told that it, along with chivalry, took a fatal blow in the 70s (around the time of women’s liberation) and just keeled over, kaputt. Romance is for storybooks, not for real life. Those who believe in romance now are saps, right? Wrong.

What better time to re-appraise romance than as Valentine’s Day approaches, that commercial black hole of sentiment that now sets the precedent for love and affection in the modern mindset? Rather than take your tips from all the plastic hearts and drooping flowers, turn your eyes to the spring 2014 catwalks. There’s a fashion lesson to be learned that extends right the way into your relationships, if you’ll let it.

‘Through my work, I know that cynicism and hopelessness are misplaced,’ explains psychologist Sue Johnson. ‘We have a revolutionary new perspective on romantic love – one that is optimistic and practical. Far from being unfathomable, love is logical and understandable. What’s more, it is adaptive and functional.’

And it seems like designers agree. There are those – such as Rick Owens and Ann Demeulemeester, who have worked with a counter-intuitive flare for romance in their work for many years: the poetics of black, for example, or the sensual fluidity of draped leather and jersey. During his time at Jil Sander, Raf Simons made hard geometries and strict shapes seem softly feminine.

When fashion critics report ‘romance’ at the international collections, they usually mean floatiness, sheer layers, princess dresses of broderie and lace – saccharine girlishness that doesn’t necessarily translate to going outside in the rain, let alone into work. (Nothing says ‘I am a serious and independent working woman’ like flower garlands and a nightie.)

But ‘romance’ this season feels modern, practical even. Take Marni, arguably the most romantic show of the season – in all-white ensembles so thick with silk appliqued flowers that they bristled on and structured the pieces they decorated. But those pieces were sleek and sporty – bomber jackets, visors, sandals and some of the most luxurious tracksuit bottoms ever envisaged. This was a romance you could still feel serious in.

Fashionable femininity used to be incredibly well defined, in a dichotomy best summed up by two of Marc Jacobs’s most famous collections for Louis Vuitton: autumn 2011’s Night Porter-inspired dominatrix collection of leather and knickerbockers and the following spring’s ice cream parlour pastels. Either sexy or saccharine. Even before that, Jacobs created for autumn 2010 a type of femininity that tried to combine romance with sophistication and resulted in 1950s-era dirndl skirts and bustier dresses. Beautiful all, but lacking that everyday pragmatism we all need, well, every day.

New York Times fashion critic Cathy Horyn this week wrote about the ‘revenge of comfort over style’ in the way women like to dress now, thanks to the practical but chic wardrobe solutions offered by the likes of Stella MCCartney and Phoebe Philo. This season, we’re seeing the revenge of romance on real life too, with traditional tokens of something rather lightweight and easily dismissed worked into a utilitarian uniform. A preponderance of pink – sheer and sporty at Richard Nicoll, bright but severely cut at Victoria Beckham – and lashings of lilac, even on mannish tailoring at DKNY. We're calling this trend Ultra-Feminine Minimalism, and it's predicated on synthesising the saccharine into something more sophisticated. The many incarnations of trainers at last month's couture shows was just another case in point.

In her book The Love Secret, Sue Johnson makes the point that, 30 or 40 years ago, love wasn’t considered essential to daily life. Nowadays it is – the more time we spend living alone, emailing, texting and communicating at a distance from one another, the more romantic we become. This is the first generation for whom romance and love are the primary reason for choosing partners and settling down; love isn't an economic necessity anymore. That seems to be what designers have recognised: the need for a bit of mushiness in among all the modern madness.

It used to be that there were women who wore pink and women who didn’t – now we all can. And that doesn’t make us saps.