Dear Auntie Helga,
The accompanying photo is one I found that is very mindful of the way my cousin and I dressed while we were attending the private secondary school that his mother, my mother's sister sent us to during my high school years in Scotland. As you will notice what is supposed to be a kilt is actually a skirt, as the pleating goes all the way around, which no real manly scot would be caught dead in. In addition the coat and frilly blouse are more Lord Fauntleroy than 'Lord of the manor'. However ours were all like this one or even more girlish, with the only other alternative being the bodice kilts which were more of a dress than a kilt, in that they were very similar to the pleated jumper dresses with a blouse underneath that catholic schoolgirls once wore. The other photo is one of me in my earlier years.
Unfortunately for us said attire was not only our school uniforms, but that which we wore most all other times, be it at church, trips downtown or at play (we were not allowed to be overly rambunctious or chance getting dirty, although more than once we got a reprimand and cane spanking for soiling our dandified outfits in the name of playing rugby which we both enjoyed). The negative attention this would gain us, especially from the boys our age who went to the public high school could be very disconcerting and led to us getting into many a scuffle (albeit many turned into beatings which is why i first got into boxing and martial art's).
This was never more so than when our aunt would insist we go and enjoy ourselves at the dances conducted at the public HS because there were no girls at our boys academy, and she insisted it was important for young men to learn how to conduct themselves in a polite and proper manner when socializing with girls, many of whom were more masculine in their attire than we were.
Just like church however she would make our appearance that was always bordering on the effeminate that much more tenuous by insisting we wear our most ornate frilly blouses with floppy bow ties under our short velvet waist jackets, while our feet would be shoed in sheer hose and court shoes with heels. All of which was anchored by skirts underpinned with white nylon bloomer type undershorts with a matching vest under our blouses, with a short, often tiered nylon pettislip in-between in a suitable hue to match that of our skirt. For as she so often put it, "No child of mine, boy or girl, will ever go out in public in a skirt without a slip under it for that would be uncivilized". Something that in her mind defined the difference between common rowdies and reserved gentlemen.
To make matters worse these special occasion kilts, which were more of a little miss skirt design, were even more ornate and sometimes fabricated out of softer materials in colors other than the typical wool material of our school uniforms let alone an actual men's kilt. Something that drew unwanted attention to us the minute we walked through the door, not only from the guys in there suits and ties, but from the girls who would giggle and mockingly wave a limp wrist at us over our effeminate juvenile appearance.
All of which made my cousin Robert (auntie insisted we call him Bobbie not Robert or Bob or even Bobby) quite upset and prone to picking fights to prove his manhood, although he didn't have far to look as there were many a 'real bloke' willing to teach us sissies a lesson on manliness. However unlike my cousin I secretly loved being called a sissy, and although my redden face would glow with embarrassment, my heart would glow in another manner, while my privates, which were still fully there and functional at the time would create a bulge for which I would be grateful for the added padding of my slip.
I guess when it comes to turning out sissified I didn't have much of a chance to avoid it, although Robert to his credit went on to be one of the most masculine men (in a good way) that I have ever known. Go figure.
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