Why I Won’t Wear a Kilt: A Modern Take on Scottish Tradition

Independence is choice, and I choose trousers…

Say “no kilt” for a Scottish wedding and watch faces fall. “It’s tradition,” they say — but is it?

I’m from Scotland. Arbroath. My dad’s from Ayrshire. Last time I checked, neither is in the Highlands.

My grandfathers? A joiner who wore a tie to go to the shop. A farmer who liked a dram in the evening. Not a sporran in sight.

I’ve yet to hear of a single Loudon, Smith, Cargill or Morton born before 1980 who ever wore one.

So how far does this tartan-wrapped “tradition” really go back? After all, St Andrew wasn’t the kilted disciple.

I doubt if anyone in Edinburgh or Dundee wore one until long after Walter Scott started shifting books and selling myths.

Highland Costume?

Maybe it’s not even tradition. Maybe it’s just fashion.

Instagram Highland cosplay. Best man squads in matching tartan — bottles in hand, posing. Rob Roy: The Stag Do Edition.

Or King Charles Mountbatten cutting about the glens, channelling his inner laird.

We Scots are very aware of our Scottishness. But sometimes the kilt feels like the costume of a country standing still — sentimental, and stuck.

Wee knives. Tiny purses. Frilly socks. Legs oot as national duty. “Are you a true Scotsman?” Please.

Scotland isn’t costume to me. I’m Mc2025. If I nod to tradition, it’ll be mine — a colour here, a texture there. I don’t think the fishermen from the Fit O’ the Toon tackled the German sea in plaid.

Tartan probably didn’t reach Arbroath until Donnellys were getting flogged at Gayfield market. There’s no heather round the bonnie, bonnie banks of Keptie Pond. Just ducks.

So why does the kilt bother me?

I think it’s because I want more for Scotland. A confident step into modernity. Not a tartan outpost of a faded empire.

Often it feels like those most keen on this invented “Scottish tradition” are the ones who vote No — Bravehearts without the freedom.

The kilt has become a placeholder for identity. A way to feel Scottish without having to see it through.

Independence is choice — and maybe that’s why I’ve always chosen trousers.

Michael Loudon — Without Invitation