British Parliament
enacted a law in
1746 that made the wearing of tartans in Scotland a
political offense. (It was repealed in
1785.)
I went to Scotland and all I got was this lousy Loch Ness
Monster T-shirt.
It's true. Last fall my family and I visited Loch Ness
(no, we didn't see the damn beast), followed our heritage
to the Munro clan castle and cruised around the Highlands.
The local shops were brimming with tartans, rich plaids
signifying family and clan affiliation in kilts of worsted
wool, as well as blankets, ties and other items. Still,
somehow the only thing that caught my eye was a black T-shirt
with a long, white neck craning out from a rippling lake.
But after attending the recent Portland Highland Games
(held on the campus of Mount Hood Community College) I found
myself coveting Scottish kilts.
Suddenly, I was dropping the suntan oil and in a mad rush
to return to Scotland to roam the Highlands in hearty plaid
pleats. Hell, by the end of my short Mount Hood sojourn,
I was convinced that everyone should wear a kilt.
Maybe it was the fetching way athletically beefy men who
tossed the caber (a 19-plus-foot-long, 130-pound log) proudly
wore their packed kilts paired with sneakers and MacTarnahan's
T-shirts. Or the enthusiasm of a tiny child who donned an
entire Scottish ensemble, complete with a plastic sword
and sporran (a pouch that hangs from the waist) over his
kilt. Or the ease with which a cluster of young women wore
kilt-skirts with white button-down shirts, dark ties and
the traditional black gillie shoes laced up around tall,
white hose.
Or it might be that I just fell in love.
It was a black-and-white kilt-skirt at a vendor booth,
and it was, to my chagrin, a tad too small. (Purists undoubtedly
would have scoffed at my preference for style over tartan
significance.) My heart sank. What else matches the graceful
swing of the kilt, the way it barely exposes the fabric
hidden between the pleats when one walks, or how it's fastened
at the waist by black leather straps, heavy-duty belts and
big metal buckles?
I know I'm a dreamer. Not everyone is ready to sport Scottish
attire. For the timid among you, I propose adding at least
one plaid garment, preferably in a traditional clan tartan,
to your upcoming fall wardrobe. Considering the nauseating
overexposure of Burberry plaid (and innumerable knock-offs)
on everything from high heels to nail polish (!) over the
last couple of seasons, why not opt for something different?
Think a little less beige and timid, a little more red and
ballsy. Hell, you don't even have to be Scottish to wear
this stuff; there's a tartan that was designed for Americans
with no particular reason to wear any clan tartan.
Warm, worsted wool in thick, primary-colored plaid will
comfort you when the dog days end and the damp and dreary
months set in, whether it's in the form of a scarf or a
skirt. Besides, it's the perfect way to liven up the virtual-Goth,
all-black wardrobe. While fashion whores cavort about in
their garish, label-emblazoned print suits, you can subtly
signal your own affiliation--or at least give a grateful
shout-out to those noble Scots.
Plaid is Rad
If you're ready to trade in your Dockers for the kilt,
here's some advice from
J. Charles Thompson, author of So You're Going to Wear
the Kilt:
"The first consideration is a state
of mind--your state of mind the first time you wear a kilt...downtown
by yourself in daylight. You will be as nervous
as a cat in a meeting of the American Kennel Club. There
is no reason to be,
for with experience you will find that everyone likes to
see a man in a kilt."
"In a kilt, all the world is your friend."
"If you can imagine any circumstances
under which you would be embarrassed to wear the kilt,
then you should not wear the kilt under any circumstances."
"At the longest, the kilt should reach
only to the top of the kneecap."
"What do you wear under the kilt?
I hope I will be forgiven for quoting
the old, tired, but classic responses: 'Nothing worn, Madam;
everything
in first-class working order' and 'I'm
a man o' few words, Madam; gi'e me
your hand!'"
"A final word to the lasses: Get your
man out in his kilt...your moral support is worth more
to him than anything else could be. So I'll see you both
in the tartan early and often, and may you thrive in the
wearing of it!"
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