Grant Gets A Kilt

Some history: About 3 months ago, my job called me to co-ordinate with the IT staff at the Experience Music Project museum in Seattle. In one of my days on-site, the resident phone-tech met me wearing a kilt! But not a wool-dyed tartan kilt, this kilt had purpose. It appeared as constructed of black codura with cargo pockets and reinforcing stitching and button/rivets throughout. Bad Ass. Embroidered on the kilt was a manufacterer logo: UtiliKilt - a perfect one word description of the un-bifurcated garment.

Its funny, but some things just command instant respect. The combined attributes of irreverance, purpose, humor, historical significance and personal confidence are just built-into the UtiliKilt. Basically, I drove away that day thinking: "Can I pull that off? Could I wear a kilt around with a straight face? Hell Yes."

And so, after three months of UtiliKilt itching, I drove down to West Seattle (where the company is based), dropped my proverbial pants and got a kilt. It's a caramel-colored 'Workmans' model kilt - basically a pleated kilt version of Carhart coveralls. About 23" long, it hangs just below my knees and has utility pockets and hammer loops enough to mount a one-man war offensive, for a short while, anyway.

Once the kilt is on it's a revalation. Breeze. Freedom of momement. Nice!

I drive off to the pub for dinner and find that wearing the kilt is a mental overhaul... watching reactions is a riot. However, I can't recall a time when I've had easier conversation with a broader range of folks than this night. The kilt is definitely an ice-breaker. Everything from "serious guy nods" and "what's up man" comments from folks I don't even know, to approaches from the opposite sex with WAAY more flirt than I'm used to. In end, I got served for free for having the cajones to wear the thing out of the house.

More of the same today (Sunday), with a handful of "nice kilt" comments thrown in for good measure. My only complaint is that all the pleats are a bit of a hassle when getting in/out of a car. They tend to get rumpled... oh well.