I am proud of my Scottish family heritage. I enjoy a good single malt. I love bagpipe music. Yes, I even eat haggis. Hell, I've cooked the stuff and lived to tell the tale.
And, yes, I wear a kilt. Wore one this weekend, in fact, and have 5 of the things (one I sewed myself.) Over the years, I've heard the jokes, and enjoyed the reactions from the opposite sex in particular.
Guys--when was the last time a woman you've never met came up and asked you if you were wearing underwear?
I prefer the traditional pleated plaid variety. I don't have anything against the Utilikilt, they just aren't my thing.
This afternoon, one of my wife's friends referred to a kilt as a "costume."
A kilt is not a "costume."
A kilt is a true man's garment, going back thousands of years.
A kilt is comfortable and breezy alternative to jeans on a hot day.
A kilt is a proud declaration of one's descent from people who throw logs for fun.
A kilt is a magnet for women.
A kilt is a warning to their men.
But a kilt is not a costume.
You wear a costume when you want to pretend to be something you aren't, or to hide who you are.
You wear a kilt when you know who you are, and are willing to take the risk that you might show the world exactly what you are made of in a strong breeze or if you sit carelessly.
Time to put my money where my blog is--I'll kilt up for work tomorrow. Admittedly, not wearing pants isn't that big a deal where I work. I'd only stand out if I wore a suit and tie around there. But it's the thought that counts.
