Kilting with confidence

When top actor fella Samuel L Jackson put on his kilt for his new movie, the actor says he was fine because "that whole Braveheart thing kicked in". Eh?

What’s the "Braveheart thing"? Did he take a sudden and vehement dislike to the English and instantly form a posse of rebellious souls on the film set, and head off to invade England? Did he yearn for independence and self-determination? Or was he moved to go paint his face blue and show his bare erse to complete strangers?

Either way, it was awful nice of the great actor to say nice things about wearing the kilt, which plays an as-yet vague part in The 51st State, in which movie he isn’t in any way Scottish, but since part of it is set "in the wilds of Scotland", as one preview puts it, he presumably wears one to fit in unnoticed. It’s a mark of the actor’s commitment that he even got a book on the subject, which advised that "if you can’t wear a kilt with confidence you shouldn’t wear one at all".

This all makes sense, as there are few things as distasteful as a fella skulking in a kilt. Kilts aren’t meant for skulking, they’re meant for striding. And striking a pose. And sitting carefully and with much surreptitious checking that that seat’s warm, first. But not for the nervous; the unconfident, slope-shouldered wearer can put one in mind of a badminton shuttlecock the cat dragged in from the rain, and that’s not to be admired.

Also, wearing one means you have to be ready for various social situations that might, if you’re not prepared, prove awkward. Chief among them is the aggressive alpha male sort of behaviour, as any non-kilted males in the vicinity will feel (a) inadequate, and (b) that they have to retrieve the high ground in front of the ladies and in some way belittle you (the opinions in this sentence in no way reflect those of The Scotsman, and are entirely the writer’s own. Also, they can in no way be backed up by statistics or independently confirmed research, should there be, among the readers, some clever-dick non-kiltie men with an axe to grind. All I’ll say is, ask a lady: she’ll tell you).

The challenge will come in the form of the ever-witty "hey, LOVE the skirt!", at which stage WHATEVER response you deem accurate, you need to be confident. If you decide, in the case of the fella shouting it being a big beefer with lots of drunk mates close by, to say "Thanks" then you have to think BIG. Shout a cheery "Thanks!" and wave in macho fashion, ideally, smiling in such a way as to suggest complete matiness, with a definite edge of heterosexuality.

If you decide that after the first 20 such comments (this will depend on where you are - if in Scotland such comments will be fairly rare, if in England they might carry a slight edge and a derisive curl of the lip to them, and if in the United States, there will be a fairly appreciative tone, apart from in some isolated southern areas, where a reception more akin to Deliverance is to be expected) that this is just intolerable, then a hearty "up yer erse!" is the best reply.

The confidence of your delivery will be the key to what happens next, along with the jauntiness of your swagger: in many parts of the world kilt-wearing members of the Tartan Army have left a lingering impression that the garment is associated with an ability to drink 300 bottles of beer in an hour and a willingness to strike any would-be aggressor on the head with one or more of those bottles, so you will be less likely to have your bluff called. If I am wrong, and a crucial lack of swagger means a punch in the mouth is imminent, then take comfort in the fact that the kilt offers lots of freedom of movement for a decent sprint.

The second crucial social response you need to learn is what to say when a lady (or gentleman) asks "is it true about what a Scotsman wears under his kilt?" If you’ve decided, for reasons varying from modesty to climate, to wear pants underneath, then you’re obliged to say "no", which tends to be a conversation-stopper no matter your tone. Of course, you can always lie and say "yes", then just be both coy and nimble on your toes to avoid being proved a liar.

Note: amusing boxer shorts, especially tartan ones, are not a solution. In fact, they NEVER are, but with a kilt, even less so. If you decide to go with a sly smile and a "yes" then you DO NOT immediately prove this by lifting the kilt.

An English friend did this on the day of his wedding. He had decided, quite rightly, that as he lives in Scotland and works here and adds to the nation’s vitality and general air of sophistication, that he could be married in a kilt. All well and good, and he cut a bit of a dash striding down the main street of his home town in the south of England, flanked by his similarly-clad best men (two of the fellas).

When a friend asked that very question, the lad, caught up in the spirit of the moment, went to raise his kilt a soupçon as a joke, but misjudged and gave the entire street a view that they’ll be talking about in tones of sad amusement for decades. It’s not cool or clever to show all - the magic is in the mystery.

The correct response is a teasing Connery-esque "I couldn’t poshibbly shay ..." along with a twinkle of the eye.