To truly understand the tartan, and highland dress, one must understand that, following the Battle of Culloden in 1746, the highlanders were prohibited from wearing the symbols of their clans. Sure, anyone who goes around fighting for a guy who calls himself “Bonnie Prince Charlie” could be said to have it coming. (Yes, there was a real prince named Charles who was given the sobriquet “Bonnie” before there was an indie rock musician sporting the same name, so eat your cupcake and be quiet.) Following the defeat of Charlie, the general population of Scotland were prohibited from wearing kilts and tartans for fear that these things were covert signs of rebellion.
After another 80 years or so, another British monarch visited the lands beyond Hadrian’s wall and became enchanted with the Hieland way of dress. Perhaps he was simply interested in going commando, but King George IV brought the kilt back and it has stuck around ever since. That rebellious mystique, however, has never left the kilt or those who wear it. As pink is to Goth, the kilt is to rugged adventurer.
At least this is what I will continue to tell myself and those around me. Yes, indeed, Sanuk D possesses a kilt. And this is not just any kilt. This is a Sport Kilt, constructed of a wicking polyester fibre more suitable than wool for hammer throws, caber tosses, or, say, trail running or marathoning. My particular model, having an 18″ seam, is probably too short for wear to a fancy dress ball not held in Thailand. This does make it well suited for running since it does not get caught up around the knees.
I know this because — having received the garment from my loving but confused Sweet Lady for Christmas — I tried it out yesterday. While some might be reluctant to venture forth in what a misunderstanding world refers to as a “skirt” I am fortunate to live near the one place in the Southeastern United States were one can run in a kilt without garnering a second glance: the Valley of Love and Delight. I am delighted to say that the thing works, and well even.
I will admit that I am not now, nor do I anticipate being, willing to go “true Scotsman” in this endeavour. Some things are more precious than authenticity. I am also unsure when and where this agent of running power will be unleashed on the world. There may be a necessity to find races with a decent bit of distance from the land of the Suwaree in order to preserve some shreds of my self respect. But there is one place I know of where they will understand me — nay even applaud.