After work today, I dropped in on the only local maker of traditional kilt of my people, the Scots. Versions of this garment were often worn while the Scots were fighting their traditional hated enemies. So naturally there’s a lot of history wrapped up in the kilt.
For my wedding, I’ve opted for a modern incarnation, namely a waist-belted kilt with sporran and various accouterments, worn with a sort of waistcoat and mess jacket thing with little silver bits all over it. This is opposed to, say, a wrapped great kilt. Which, really, if you’re going to wear, you need to be carrying a claymore and possibly killing an Englishman.
Various conversational fragments from my visit:
“I would like a fine, fine kilt.”
“Of course ye would.”
“Aye, ye’ll be needin’ wider pleats, as ye’re a big lad.”
“I learned tae make kilts for my brigade in the army. We had a sayin’, ‘If the kilt doesnae hang right, we hang the man that made the kilt.'”
I have immediate faith and trust in this guy to make me a damn good kilt.
 The Scots.
 A big sword, as opposed to the antipersonnel mine. Though the swords could equally validly have “This end towards enemy.” written on it. Possibly in runes.
 Or another Scotsman. See .