1. As one of the quirkier trends for fall, the kilt is having
quite a moment. To what do we owe this Scottish staple’s
resurgence? Well, the BBC kicked things off in January by
declaring an end to “Scottish Cringe,” the postindustrial
sense of inferiority that had long plagued the northern half
of the United Kingdom. Those negative feelings were most
eloquently summed up by Ewan McGregor’s character in the
1996 cult classic Trainspotting: “It’s shite being Scottish.” At
the time, the outlook was pretty bleak; unemployment
was high, and expressions of cultural identity were often
met with embarrassment.
Twodecadeslater,Scotsareonceagainembracingtheir
national identity, both at the polls (hello, independence
referendum!) and on the runway. The renewed sense
of pride and far-reaching influence are particularly
palpable on this side of the pond, thanks not only
to current fashion (we haven’t been this excited
since Marc Jacobs sported pleated plaid), but in
large part to the hit TV series Outlander.
Starz’s atmospheric drama (windswept moors,
looming castles, torrid sex scenes) about time-
traveling WWII nurse Claire Randall Fraser
(Caitriona Balfe) and her hunky Highlander, Jamie
Fraser (Sam Heughan), has held the attention
of about 5 million Americans per episode. The
show, based on the eight-novel series written by
PhD ecologist–cum–romance novelist Diana
Gabaldon, casts Claire as a feminist heroine and
was recently renewed through season four.
For me, though, Outlander’s lure is strictly
sartorial. I’m partial to pleats—during years of
donning Catholic school uniforms, the biggest
fashion decision I had to make was, Knife pleats or
box pleats? Navy, khaki, or Black Watch? Forget the
show’s thickly accented, hunky men; the real star of
this series is the kilt. Call it kismet that Outlander’s
success coincides with a crop of Scottish designers
who are bringing Caledonian influences back to
fashion’s main stage—from Samantha McCoach’s
Le Kilt to Scottish model Stella Tennant’s heirloom-
worthy collection of cashmere sweaters and tweed
skirts for Holland & Holland. Even Alessandro
Michele took up the cause by sending highly
decorated kilts down the runway for Gucci’s resort
2017 collection, shown at Westminster Abbey in
June in an elaborate exercise of that classic British
fashion trope: mumsy eccentric.
A month earlier, during Tartan Week in New York, Saks
Fifth Avenue had decorated its parade-facing windows in full
Scot style as thousands of Scots and Scotophiles marched and
piped their way through Manhattan, led by Heughan. In the
crowd was young Scottish designer Siobhan Mackenzie. Upon
eyeing Mackenzie’s alternating tartan–and–solid-color kilt
(one of her signature designs, £450), a stylish New Yorker
approached and “wanted to buy it right off me,” the designer
says. Unwilling to disrobe on the streets of Midtown,
Mackenzie arranged to meet later with the eager customer,
who ordered two bespoke kilts.
When I saw Mackenzie in New York, she was quick to point
out that a kilt is so much more than just a pleated skirt. Dating to
the sixteenth century, when it was worn by soldiers who needed
to be able to move quickly and wade through water with ease,
the garment requires some eight yards of tartan fabric (different
patterns distinguish between military regiments and clans) and
can weigh up to 20 pounds in its traditional form. Mackenzie
was inspired to take up kilt design during an internship with a
master kiltmaker in her senior year at Manchester Metropolitan
University in England. Her own deep Highland roots—her
clan, Mackenzie, was an inspiration for Gabaldon’s series
and can trace its roots to the twelfth century; its seat, Castle
Leod in Strathpeffer, was the author’s model for the fictional
Castle Leoch—also had something to do with it. She launched
her eponymous company, Siobhan Mackenzie Ltd., only five
From the moors of the Scottish Highlands
to the streets of Manhattan, the kilt is taking
the world by storm. By Naomi Rougeau
DRESSED
TO KILT
Stella Tennant
in the Prince of
Wales check
A-line skirt she
and Isabella
Cawdor designed
for Holland &
Holland; a fall
2016 look (left)
from Le Kilt
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2. days after graduation with the aim of bringing kilts into the
twenty-first century and supporting Scottish industry. She did
so by lightening up and using a combination of nontraditional
fabrics, such as sequined panels, leather, and ultralight wool
for warmer climes. “I needed to understand it inside and out
before beginning to tweak the construction,” the designer says.
When she suggested I visit her in Scotland to see the castle and
surrounding mills, I wasted no time booking my ticket.
I SPENT MOST of the overnight train ride from London to
Inverness last May happily dressed in my schoolgirl Barbour
jacket and L.L.Bean boots, with my trusty kilt (a surprise from
Siobhan) safely tucked away in my carryall. The clash of cul-
tures in the dining car was something to behold: floppy-haired
English boys with cut-glass accents heading back to university
in Edinburgh, retirees on walking holidays, and a group of 12
rowdy Scotsmen (who depleted the haggis stores within
an hour) returning home after a stag party in London.
Daybreak revealed a blazing sun and a quiltlike green
countryside punctuated by bold yellow patches,
thanks to gorse and oilseed in full bloom. It was easy
to imagine where the early weavers got their inspiration.
After being greeted at the Inverness train station by
Mackenzie and her friend, photographer Tommy
Cairns—who, it turns out, is a bit of a Scottish street-
style star and once modeled for one of the country’s
oldest bespoke tailors—we headed to nearby
Strathpeffer to be presented to clan chief
John Ruaridh Grant Mackenzie, Fifth Earl
of Cromartie, and his wife, Eve, Countess of
Cromartie, at their home, Castle Leod. Lord
Cromartie answered the back door, suited
and booted and looking every bit the
part in a bespoke Siobhan Mackenzie
kilt with alternating panels of Harris
tweed and the Mackenzie tartan
(£950), complete with sporran (the
leatherorfurbagtraditionallyworn
by men wearing kilts, which have
no pockets) and a lively spaniel at
his side.
The red sandstone castle
dates to the fifteenth century and
boasts a Spanish chestnut tree
planted in 1550 in honor of Mary
Queen of Scots’ mother, Mary of
Guise; I can see how the majestic
surroundings might inspire more
than a few intrigues. I headed back to
reality with a visit to Johnstons of
Elgin, the more than 200-year-old mill
that manufactures knits for Hermès
and Burberry, with whom Mackenzie is
producing a capsule collection. “There
is so much craftsmanship and heritage
in Scotland,” Mackenzie says. “It’s really
exciting to bring it up to date, yet it still has a
place as a classic piece in a woman’s wardrobe
that can be dressed up or down.”
Royal College of Art grad Samantha
McCoach was inspired to rethink the classic as well. The young
founder of Le Kilt grew up in Edinburgh watching her grandmother,
who has been a traditional kiltmaker for 40 years, expertly pleat
and sew the traditional tartan garments. “There were mills and kilt
factories everywhere,” McCoach says. “Sadly, many have given way to
tourist shops selling cheap kilts made abroad.” Wanting to appropriate
the style for her own wardrobe, McCoach decided to punk up the kilt,
piecing together a mix of bold tartans. When the requests started
flooding in, she launched Le Kilt in 2014, named after a popular
tartan-wrapped 1980s-era club in London’s Soho neighborhood that
played host to Vivienne Westwood & Co. (around the same time
that ELLE was featuring Jean Paul Gaultier’s sporty take on the Scot
classic). Shortly after, Dover Street Market came calling, then Harvey
Nichols; now McCoach’s London Fashion Week presentations are
quite the hot ticket. (You may have spotted her designs on the Duchess
of Cambridge.) For fall, McCoach added metal-studded waistbands
(£500) and longer styles accented with shearling panels (£460). She’s
also introduced “tam tam” hats and her own chunky-soled take on
ghillies. McCoach produces only in the UK, using British fabrics.
Also flying the flag for British textiles are friends Stella Tennant and
former fashion editor Isabella Cawdor, who recently took the helm of
Holland & Holland as co–creative directors. Though it is now owned
by Chanel (as is one of the country’s most esteemed mills, Barrie), the
thoroughly British firm has kept the hunting, shooting, and fishing
set outfitted in the finest tweeds and handmade rifles since 1835. The
duo’s debut collection has brought the aesthetic to town, thanks to the
designers having one foot in the fashion world and the other firmly
in the moors. Case in point: herringbone pleated culottes (£1,350)
that offer the look of a kilt with the ease of trousers. “Everything
should have a function,” says Tennant, whose own practical, slightly
androgynous personal style has made her a fashion icon. “Holland &
Holland aspires to both use and beauty.”
So just what about this traditional, history-steeped garment could
manage to transcend class, age, gender, and five centuries of his-
tory—and attract spike-haired punks, Tilda Swinton, the Prince of
Wales, and everyone in between? The kilt is as much a reflection of
the dramatic land in which it was born as of the people who wear
it: resilient, fiercely independent, and unapologetic. Who wouldn’t
want to buy into that?
Designer Siobhan
Mackenzie at Castle
Leod in her signa-
ture kilt. Photo by
Tommy Cairns.
G
U
C
C
IRESO
RT
2017
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