I’ve wanted a kilt, made in my family tartan for a while now. I won’t skirt the issue regarding why I haven’t bought one: I predict I will feel shy wearing it. There are some ways that I wish I were more daring. Wearing a plaid skirt would certainly be bold for me. I just don’t think I could pull it off yet I continue to fantasize. The thing is I don’t think I present as a manly man like Sean Connery or even Jamie, The Outlander dude. I’m not a man of fashion either; sweats, T-shirts, blue jeans suit me just fine. I prefer to blend in rather than stand out.
The kilt was banned in Scotland for a long time because it was seen by the dominating Brits as a sign of dissent. The word Skirt itself carries much baggage: Not kindly for females. Skirt was a derisive term for women of weak morals. Boys who cried got called Skirts. Canadian girls weren’t allowed to wear pants while at public school even into the early 1970s. Looking at the issue of gender identity, the role of the skirt as a definition of femininity is obvious: Most restrooms still use the skirted woman. I’m thinking spontaneously and perhaps outrageously that the skirt is likely a clothing item seen as an example of male oppression of women.
Part of me wants to raise my Jacobite sword in defence of this free type of covering for all people. By wearing a kilt, or an izaar, I could join other males in discovering the benefits of a breezeway. Or perhaps, in the smallest of ways, I can get a step closer to understanding a woman’s experience. For example, I wonder what it would feel like to stand over a subway grate like Marilyn Monroe once did. Wearing a kilted skirt, I would not be trying to make a statement, just find out how it feels to be so easily accessible and vulnerable.
Exceptions have been made to my normally drab wardrobe. There has been occasions where what I have worn has made me feel on the outskirts of reality. I have been called classy while wearing a crested blue blazer at juvenile team sport banquets. One full year in high school I wore only white pants with corduroy shirts (a different colour for each day of the week). I had a brief fling with the Sonny Crockett ’T-shirt and dinner jacket look’ in my fifties. I can rock a wool turtleneck while practising my seafaring brogue. Once, for a wedding on a paddle wheel boat, I purchased a dark blue, double breasted jacket to go with grey pants and a light grey mock turtleneck. A guest told me I looked familiar, sincerely asking if I had served on a ship out of Whitehorse. I was flattered and wished I could have continued the deception.
Perhaps I’ll buy a kilt for my granddaughter’s wedding. Dinna fash, I’ll ask her first. It’s probably two decades from now so I’ll have plenty of linear time to dither.
Like everyone, I have a personal style that is hard to label. I am clean-shaven and my wife generously cuts my curly head of hair when it gets unruly. I have clothes from Mark’s Work Wearhouse in my closet (like blue jeans, some things never go out of style). I don’t wear a watch and I have two special rings on my hands. My lifestyle does not include regular exercise yet I choose to walk when practical. I eat to live and choose quickly heated processed foods when I feed myself. Unlike my father, I doubt anyone would call me stylish although I believe I have a certain captivating charm.
Style is really about how we define ourselves. It may be the most important part of our adolescence. We may not wish to be a fashion trend-setter, or even to be noticed at all but coming of age requires we have a definition, at least one that we can be satisfied with for the moment. I was a loner in high school. Most of the time I wore twill cotton white pants with five copies of the same shirt; a different colour for each day of the week. Oh boy!
I recently enjoyed the Amazon Prime television series called ‘The Collection’. It got me thinking about the reasons people choose to dress the way they do. In post WWII Paris, style was equated with beauty. If you had a stylish designer outfit you got noticed. Sometimes this attention was unwanted or even dangerous. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsmJ5-LgiZ0
Perhaps we go for a certain style because we just want to belong, not to stand out. My late wife got a chance to have a classic ‘bob’ hairstyle back in the early 1970s by Vidal Sassoon himself. Being a modest person and certainly not flashy in her choices this surprised me at the time. I remember her saying that it was a brief opportunity for her to be part of the ‘In Crowd’.
When I was in my early 30s and still boyish looking I felt the need to grow a beard. I had the impression that a bearded man got more respect.
It didn’t work. It made me wonder if some get a tattoo to change how they are perceived. Do we adorn ourselves for another’s sake or for our own
amusement/security/satisfaction? Once a family member was noticed wearing two unmatched socks. When it was remarked on she said, “That’s my style.” Perhaps her response deflected unwanted attention or perhaps she was happy someone noticed.
That’s the thing about stylistic choices. How we decorate ourselves, what music we listen to, what food we eat is revealing, whether we like it or not. Our personal style gives others clues as to our identity. Unless we try to be anonymous, to fly under the radar or to keep a low profile, we will be noticed. It’s risky broadcasting who we are, but worth it. Be loud, proud and beautiful!
Go full Gangnam style. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMFt1yW7_wA