A Wee Bit o' Kilt

Today, I'm going to talk about a subject I never talk about: fashion.

Why? Do you mean why don't I ever talk about it? (Because I dress for comfort not appearance and many's the lady who does otherwise who would look better in something comfortable - in my opinion). Or, did you mean, why are you talking about it today if it's not a subject that interests you?

Well, because of my husband.

My husband, in general, dresses for comfort as well. It is for that reason, actually, that he has asked for the most expensive item of clothing he's ever had as his payment for completing all the Hurricane Ike repairs: a utilikilt.


Isn't he handsome, sporting the black version of the workman utilikilt and, of course, a kitty (Moxie)? I think he is.

Of course, although I was proud as punch to go to the store with him, my teenage daughter was ready to sink. "Dad, you look like a cross-dresser." Not hardly. And, as I explained, since she's been lobbying unsuccessfully to get various unnecessary holes punched into various places in her face, and she has either ripped holes in or drawn with sharpie all over all the pants I bought her this year (including labels, with arrows, for various body parts in case we didn't know where they were), she's really not qualified to talk about someone being an embarrassment to those around them. If you know what I mean.

I'm not kidding when I say I like it. Of course, I like cloaks, too. And yes, thanks to my sister's magic fingers, we all have those, too. Cool, no?

So, though I wouldn't want to forgo any of my modern conveniences, I do like some styles that speak of days gone by, considerably more, in fact, than many of the fashions of today. And that should be enough fashion to last the rest of the year.

That the kilt drives my daughter batty is just gravy.