When Britney Spears took her far too public stance on the liberal use of undergarments, I wonder if she had to deal with random people reaching up there to cop a feel. Apparently when a man wears a kilt, that invitation is assumed to be open to any curious passersby. A few years ago, I purchased a kilt which I threatened to wear on what I deem to be special occasions. This past New Year’s Eve I followed through on it.
It’s not that I view New Year’s Eve as a special occasion, but this year I didn’t have to work the bar for once, thus leaving me free to be “part of the problem.” So I broke out the kilt and much to my girlfriend’s horror I wore it down to the bar to take a few cups of kindness for Auld Lang Syne.
Of course she got me back New Year’s Day, as she made me wear it out to the store to buy bacon and OJ – I assure you, there’s nothing quite like the look you get doing the walk of shame in a kilt. The kilt itself is nothing much. It’s a cotton/poly blend I picked up on Sportkilt.com for $70. The fine wool ones run up around $300, and tend to be a bit more…ahem…itchy.
It’s a Blackwatch plaid, known as a universal plaid as it’s not indicative of any specific clan and therefore spares me from having any long-running clan rivalries boil over after a few wee drams. To avoid looking like some butch Catholic school girl, I complement the outfit with my glorified fanny-pack of a sporran (Gaelic word for purse) and I tuck my trusty bottle opener into my combat boots in lieu of a sgian dubh (Gaelic word for knife that is traditionally worn with the kilt). Then I just stand around a drink like I normally would, waiting for the grope-fest to begin.
Sure, anyone wearing a kilt to anything other than a highland game should expect to attract a bit of attention, but I don’t think it’s an invitation to stick your hand underneath and feel around for the ol’ bangers and mash. It’s no wonder Sean Connery is reportedly such an ornery lad – when you have to stand around and defend your bits from the continuous intrusive probes of men and women alike, it gets a wee bit agitating. Primarily, people want to know if “it’s true.” Universally, the answer should be yes – if you have the yarbles to wear a kilt, they had better be free to enjoy the ride.
I empathize with Ms. Spears and her brazen clan of morally casual gal pals, because it’s just downright comfortable. But even more so for men; to borrow a quote from the folks at utilikilt.com, the rationale stems from the fact that throughout history, men have “worn un-bifurcated garments, and if women had an appendage hanging between their legs we guarantee you they wouldn’t be wearing pants.”
So there you have it. And as I sit here in my gym shorts writing this column, I can honestly say I haven’t worn pants all year. We’ll see how long that resolution lasts -probably until my girlfriend reads this and makes me put some bloody pants on.
Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/bitter bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Hudson Current and websites in the New York Metro area. He spends a lot of his time either in front of or behind the bar in Hoboken, New Jersey where his tolerance for liquor grows stronger as his tolerance for society is eroded on a daily basis. Feel free to drop him a line at c_halleron@yahoo.com.