Come the next heatwave, perhaps us men will be waxing our legs, slapping on the fake tan and taking to the streets in our latest skirts, complimenting one another on the neatness of our hems.įor now though, I'll happily carry on perspiring into my sweaty suit, thank you very much. Pitt feels confident the trend will catch on. But skirts? On men? Well, they look absurd. I admit a kilt can sometimes give Scotsmen an air of mainly ruggedness. Sorry Brad, this skirt thing isn't for me. I longed for the sanctity of my trousers, where I could manspread all I liked. I felt awkward, vulnerable and utterly ridiculous.
I had to keep crossing my legs to protect my, ahem, modesty. There may have been a nice breeze up there but, for the most part, I began realise how woefully impractical skirts are. 'I love it!' said my waitress.Īs I sat down to peruse the bill of fare, things started to get properly uncomfortable. True professionals, they barely batted an eyelid as they showed me to my table. I thought the staff might turn their snouts up at my outre garb. Then a gust of wind would kick up, providing my legs with some welcome ventilation.Īs Pitt inferred, it produced a sensation which was not altogether unpleasant.Īt lunchtime, I headed off to Boisdale, a smart restaurant popular with the well-heeled residents of snooty Belgravia. Seeing a man in a skirt really isn't all that crazy.Īfter a while, I forgot I was even wearing it.
We have our punks, our goths, our mods, our rockers. But then, I suppose there isn't much we Londoners haven't seen down the years. One builder sneaking in a crafty cigarette gave me a weary shake of the head.įollowing those early embarrassments, no one really seemed to notice. A couple of old dears out walking their dachshunds did a little double take. Walking down the High Street, I won't lie - I felt a bit self-conscious. But they always say that, don't they? The acid test came when leaving the studio.Īfter enduring a few titters from colleagues as I walked - sorry, swept - through the office, I decided to gauge the reaction on the not-so-mean streets of London's fashionable Kensington. Do I believe them? I'm not sure.įirst thoughts as I emerged from the dressing room: 'Yuk!' My hairy legs dangling out of a skirt looked horrid. Mine was from designer Thom Browne and, although it also came in a dark colour much like hunky Brad's macho loincloth, the team insisted it was not available and got me one in a salmon pink/peach, instead. So in the spirit of old-fashioned public interest journalism, the Mail's fashion department thought it'd be a fun wheeze for me to try one out, to see how the British public take to a man going about his business in a knee-length skirt. Libidinous pop star Harry Styles never seems to be out of one. Lewis Hamilton is rewriting the menswear rulebook with netted skirts and kilts. In our modern world, gendered fashion is supposedly dead, with everyone raiding the same dressing up box with merry abandon.įashion giants Burberry, Gucci and Louis Vuitton have all sent models down the runway in skirts in recent years. The Scots have been wearing kilts for centuries due to the freedom of movement it afforded them in battle. In Ancient Greece and Rome, men exposed their legs as an expression of youthful virility. Not that men in skirts is anything new, mind you.
Not since David Beckham stepped out in a girly sarong have lavender-scented fashionistas erupted into such a frenzied tizzy. TMI, Bradley! The khaki, Tarzanesque design, by modish couturier Haans Nicholas Mott, naturally caused a sensation. Asked to explain his sartorial choice for the evening, Pitt replied casually: 'I'm going to say, it's all about the breeze, the breeze is very nice.
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