Didi a la mode: Scotsman and kilts? Duh.

Based on fluctuating weather conditions in Canada, the recent return of unbearably chocking humid air called for a reappearance of the sports bra, freeing up my little mosquito bites for a day in the sun and tour of downtown's liveliness. Surprise!!! Yes I sometimes go out in public wearing only a sports bra. Aside from the fact that my most favourite past time involves exposing my midriff, I tend to question the expense of cropped outerwear when a sports bra provides the exact same service, if not more, at a much lower satisfying price. As my mother would regularly say "Why not kill two birds with one stone?". And that I did, that I did. Might I add athletic wear will forever be held dearly to me as I consider myself a former devotee and passionate athlete and/or sports playa.

A statement of bra-wear outer-wear took a toll on city folk in the downtown core. They whispered, they lingered and most of all they shamefully look away at what they saw as an act of meaningless rebellion of the adolescent. "She's must be retaliating against her mother". Bogus! As a matter of fact the actual conversation with my mom went a little something like this "Is that a sports bra?" Yeah! "Alright then.". As for the rest of you opposing this act of mindless comfort and nothing more, or in my mind much much more (sue me if I think sports bras are appeasing as a regular shirt), young girls in bum cheek exposed denim cut-offs receive absolutely zero grief but when I bra it up on any given day of the week, it is downright shameful. SHAME!

In exactly one second you will realize how easily I contradict myself with "On hot mucky days, avoid wearing shirts, and righteously choose your favourite sports bra as a statement piece". That goes for you too, boys. The event is noted below:

1) Wear a sports bra. Check.

2) Match my bra with a plaid wooly kilt. Whoops. This only somewhat defeats the purpose of wearing a sports bra on the hottest days of the year.

3) The kilt has a balance of edge and nonchalance as it carries two metal chains. And you all know being welcomed in a bagpiping biker gang was always on my bucket list. Is my kilt wearing now rightfully justified? No?

The Kilt

For over a year I've been searching for the perfect knee length kilt. I would look at retail stores, thrift shops, even garage sales but all kilts were either too big, smelled of mothballs or smoke, too small or simply not right for me. I had a vision of what I already wanted, keeping my mind very narrow with the search. Topshop was one of the very first store I remember in which held my dream kilt (A J.W Anderson x Topshop kilt for that matter) and I cannot tell you how badly I wanted it. I was almost sure my unity with the skirt could never be as I knew perfectly well where and how we stood apart. It was expensive, I was poor. Simple as that.

You're saying "How bad can it be?" Let me paint you a picture. The J.W Anderson section at Topshop is normally in an isolated corner, very well put together and most of all extremely taunting as the pieces have absolutely zero imperfections, no wrinkles, no evidence of human contact whatsoever. The apparent reason behind its segregation to real human beings (like you and me) has to do with the fact that almost every item in that section are easily sold for $300, and more. Mind you the last time I stumbled upon Topshop, the kilt was on sale for $150 but as it is J.W Anderson, the prestige keeps the skirt oh so expensive.

Stumbling upon the right kilt for me at Value Village goes to show you that if you wait patiently, you will find exactly what you are looking for. So there you have it, I found my dream kilt and I'm holding my ground on le revolution of le bra. HUZZAH!