Hunting MacFarlane

When I was 5 or 6 Grannie brought back from Scotland the material to make a skirt for my mother and a kilt for me.  The tartan was the clan of her father and in the green version (to blend in with the woods).  It's called Hunting MacFarlane.

My mother drove me downtown on a Saturday morning to Richardson's on Yonge just south of Wellesley.  There I was measured for my kilt and some time later we went back to pick it up.  I can see myself in the car with my mother and at the store wearing the new kilt.  I didn't quite know what to make of the kilt at first.  For one thing it was quite long allowing for me to grow.  Eventually we had it taken up.

Perhaps needless to say -- but a skirt made especially for me is something that's happened just the once.  In addition the skirt was a Scottish kilt made with real Scottish tartan bought by Grannie in Scotland and brought home for only me.  No wonder Scotland has such a strong pull for me still.  I wore that kilt until I was bursting the seams.  I had a white blouse with a bit of a frill that I wore with it -- mainly to church or family dinners.  I remember where I was in church when I became aware that the blouse was a bit see-through and that there was starting to be something to see on my chest.  That's about when I stopped wearing that outfit.  But I still have the kilt.