Today is National Tartan Day .
Honestly, I didn’t even realize there was such a thing until a couple years ago when a lady in the office came in regaled in her formal dress with her family tartan.
I guess someone talked someone in Congress into passing a resolution or some such to recognize the contributions of Scottish-Americans…sheep jokes, penny pinching jokes, ummm…. OOO!!!… Single Malt Whiskys!
So this year I decided to wear my tartan tie to celebrate the day. And, just because it is a Friday and most of the boss-types are out of the office, I decided to wear my work kilt.
I’ve gotten many comments, most “What the hell are you dressed up for?”, with a few compliments (I’ve been told I have nice legs).
In explaining why I was dressed as I was, I occasionally got the standard question: “What is worn under your kilt?”
To this, I give one of my standard responses – -
Answer #1 – Nothing is worn. It is all in perfect working condition!
Answer #2 – Two shades of lipstick…so far.
Even more fun were a couple conversations with some female coworkers.
First came our office finance person – -
Finance Lady: Ooo, that is a good look for you…where’s your bagpipe.
She immediately knew that she had offered up a wonderful double entendre and skulked away, avoiding my gaze whilst my officemates are rolling on the floor laughing.
Later in the afternoon, a co-worker, M, stopped by the water cooler next to my cubicle and peeked in my office. She asked a few questions about the kilt, then commented – -
M: Well, you’re not sitting very lady-like there.
GnuKid: Well, I’m clearly not a lady.
M changed the subject as she saw my sporran [Scottish man purse] she liked and pointed at it…waist level, yet the other people in the office can only see her pointing downward at me and having her last comment in their minds, hear: Oh, I see…very nice!
Didn’t even get a chance to blink as my officemates once again burst into inappropriate laughter.
I stopped by her desk a bit later to bug her a bit more. She started to say something. Rethought it. Started again. Rethought it. And finally admitted that there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t be taken in the wrong way.
And all the while? She was staring at my sporran.
M: I want to, but can’t even say, “I can’t stop looking at it!”
Feeling the least I could do was acknowledge her kind words, I offered a hearty “thank you”…much more for the benefit of those howling hyenas around me than anything else…as she wandered away with her face growing more crimson by the moment.
It is a bit cold-ish to be wearing this at this time of year, but I’m having a blast. And very looking forward to this year’s Celtic Festival where I can wear it for three straight days.
And, who knows? I may just have to show up at work randomly dressed like this. Or wear it on the bike ride tonight…