Swing, Sway, and Confidence: Why I Love My Short Kilts

There’s a certain swish that only a kilt can give you. A movement—playful, proud, a little rebellious—that makes you feel alive in your own skin. For me, kilts aren’t just a garment. They’re a mood. A vibe. A statement I’ve grown to love.

And yes, especially the short ones. The asymmetrical ones. The ones that flirt a little when I walk.

Let me be clear: this love doesn’t come from wanting to be a girl. It’s not about trying to “pass” or blend in. My joy in kilts isn’t about identity in that way—it’s about style. About choosing what flatters my body, expresses my energy, and, frankly, feels really damn good to wear.

There’s something about the pleats that catches the breeze and makes me feel alive. A good kilt carries confidence in its folds. I like how they move, how they show just enough leg to be cheeky without crossing into caricature. And I love how the asymmetry creates visual interest—a little punk, a little Celtic, a little unexpected. It’s a combination that speaks to my spirit: soft but bold, traditional but playful, disciplined but with just a touch of trouble.

When I’m not in leggings or yoga pants, you can usually find me in a kilt. They’ve become just as essential to my wardrobe—easy to style, easy to love, and full of personality. A kilt is what I reach for when I want to feel breezy, confident, and a little flirty, even on an ordinary day.

Styling them is part of the fun. I love pairing my kilts with soft fitted tops—sometimes a snug tee, sometimes a cropped sweater that hints at my waist. Opaque tights give my legs a little attention and balance out the proportions. I’ll wear them with running shoes when I want to be sporty or chunky ankle boots when I’m in a sassier mood. And underneath—well, there’s always my thick diaper and shiny plastic pants. I don’t hide them. I embrace them.

The first time I wore one of my short kilts in public, I was nervous. I remember standing in front of the mirror, checking every angle, making sure my diaper wasn’t peeking too much (even though part of me wanted it to). I finally walked out the door and into the world, heart racing. And something shifted. Heads turned, but no one laughed. A woman smiled at me. Someone complimented my kilt and tights. And I realized—I didn’t feel ashamed. I felt powerful. A little silly, a little swishy, but undeniably myself.

I’ve worn kilts to festivals, around town, and even just lounging at home. I get glances, sure. Some are curious. Some are judgmental. But more and more, I get the ones that are appreciative—the ones that recognize a person who’s unafraid to wear what they love. I’ve learned that people respect confidence. And a kilt, especially a short one with a flash of asymmetry, demands exactly that.

They’re not skirts to me. They’re kilts. And I love them for what they are: garments of pride, flair, history, and freedom. Whether I wear them over my diaper and plastic pants or just for a night out feeling breezy and bold, they always make me feel a little more me.

So no, it’s not about being a girl. It’s about being Alice.

And Alice looks damn good in a pleated kilt.