Scenes from Cincinnati – a Postscript

[Rex_Tremende]

Friday, June 30
It was Final Friday at the artists’ studios again. My friend, Ken, called and suggested we go. I wore my new UK khaki Mocker with a black polo shirt, black belt, oatmeal hose (or maybe they are stone?) with my newly shortened, homemade black grosgrain flashes and black shoes. Panache would approve, I thought, as I got dressed. Several of the artists and their coterie remembered me as the Guy in the Kilt. I handed out several of the business cards that UK packs with every kilt they sell. Ken noted how much the kilt promotes sociability.

Saturday, July 1
Saturday morning, I don the same kilt, but I switched to brown leathers, pushed down hose, and a mighty comfortable green cotton tropical shirt. Before running my usual weekend errands, I stopped at Panera Bread for some coffee and a cinnamon roll. My kilt enjoyed the coffee before I did – oops. Fortunately, coffee with cream dries nearly invisible on khaki, but whatever, it will come out in the wash. My last stop was the grocery store, where the man in front of me in line at the cashier looked at me and sort of smirked. As he collected his bags to leave, he turned to me and said, “I like your outfit. I really like your whole look, right down to the [handlebar] moustache!” I felt the endorphins released again.

Later, a LaRouche PAC supporter outside the post office asked me what the occasion was for the kilt. “Why, on this day in 1782, the Act of Proscription against wearing kilts was repealed,” I informed him, thanks to Xmarks, “so this seemed an appropriate way to celebrate. And besides,” quoting an Xmarker, “any day the sun rises in the east is a good day to wear a kilt.” He seemed satisfied with that explanation, and, oh, would I like to register with LaRouche PAC? (No, thanks.)

Last night I returned to Shooters, as I do most Saturdays, only this time, since my cowboy boots were feeling neglected, I wore jeans – Wranglers – the sort that fit a cowboy like jeans should fit. I had about as many “Where’s your kilt” questions this week as I had in interest about what’s under it last week. After a couple of dances, the jeans were stuck to my legs with perspiration and felt like weights. My legs were so leaden I could barely lift them off the floor. How I missed that ventilation! That mobility! That freedom!

Regards,
Rex in Cincinnati

[mrpharr]

Great story and the truth of the comfortable kilt tells no lies...
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[David Dalglish]

Once kilted, theres no going back

[GMan]

Coffee and Kilts are two of my favorite things in life. Great that you were able to share the reasons of Kilt weaqring to everyone. Yes the sun rose in the east.