Lemme let you all in on a secret...

I am that rough unsavoury character that James is talking about in the first post!

That's why I don't care much for neckties and all this proper do this and that talk. I just do what comes natural to me. I am the other end of the spectrum when it comes to kilt wearing. I am the wrinkled unkept looking wildman, with dreadlocks and a fully dreaded beard. I do not looked civilised or tame. I am the boorish oaf that stands on the sidewalk guzzling ginger beer, and then belches with enough explosive force to blow the leaves off a magnolia tree. And there isn't a soul alive that could convince me that I do not honour my ancestors by acting in such a fashion. I take pride in being barbaric. I am masculine. And I have no shame as to what I am.

While I can be quite charming and even kind (when nobody is looking mind you) make no mistake... I am earthy and crude and unrefined. I am vulgar and prone to violent response. And I have been trying to make this point for a long long time that kilt wearing is not just about being proper and prim and well dressed. Infact, I have ruffled a lot of feathers round here with my views. Our ancestors were not a bunch of prim prancing Nancy boys... They were hardasses. They were brawlers. Warriors. Fighters. While some of them might have dressed up on occasion (The Noble sorts I am sure, they had to put on a show) most of them were probably dirty, foul smelling, and looked nothing like the highly romantised image that we have now. They were the sorts of men that would have kicked *** and took names, and when it was all said and done, lifted up the front of their kilt and pissed in somebody's eye.

That's why I love the great kilt so much. A simple garmet for simple men.