Leprechaun in lederhosen

I work in a school for higher education - specifically the doctorate degree in law. It’s a small program and my duties include assisting my friend the dean in the day to day operations, plus recruitment, admission counseling, attendance, tuition, exams, textbooks, graduation planning, keeping the faculty and students happy....the list is endless and occasionally includes plunging a toilet or two. We still do business the old fashioned way - up close and personal. I take great joy when a call comes in for my boss asking for her voice message machine, and I tell them they are speaking with it. I am without a doubt the shoulder the students cry on – the empathic listener, the go between, the boost when they are down and the raised eyebrow when they skip class. I remind them of the light at the end of the tunnel and how much I admire their personal sacrifice attending an evening program after working their usual jobs all day. Some have become my friends.

In the fall, one of our first year students was wearing a fancy fur sporran, which naturally made me curious as it is totally unusual and I had only seen pictures. (Now, I did not exactly ask to touch it at it as it is worn well, down there, and I have no interest of that nature in the man.) He had bought it while visiting Scotland (mainland - not the Hebrides) and decided it was handy for carrying stuff. In my opinion very few American men should wear a sporran, but on him it works ok (albeit a plain leather sporran would be more appropriate for casual wear, but no harm). He is a very quirky sort with an odd way of dressing/looking anyway – wispy long white hair held with a bandanna under a wide brimmed hat, full beard, suspenders, odd multi layering clothing, different accessories like a bright yellow coin purse made by women in South America…a culmination of all sorts of the unusual. The oddities make perfect sense because he is actually a roman catholic priest on some sort of leave-not exactly common knowledge. I guess when he took off the black pants, black shirt and white collar he went a bit nutty on the personal style expression. Early on, I shared with him my history with the church (raised in a strict catholic home, 11 years of parochial school, left the church on my 18th birthday…). Priests are somewhat regarded as demi-gods but not by me. As my Dad would say, they put their pants on one leg at a time like everyone else. One of our student librarians gives people nicknames, and she privately and aptly refers to him as the Leprechaun. I don’t know how he would react to such a title and I would never tell him, but I knew instantly whom she was referring to.

Anyway, he stopped by the office last week to say hello and as usual, I stopped my work to touch base. He said he was looking to buy one of those leather Bavarian shorts worn with suspenders. No disrespect to my Dad's ancestors, but good lord, not lederhosen! (Stereotypical visions of little boy embroidered short shorts crossed my mind.) I could feel my head and shoulders drop and my hand go to my forehead and through my hair in agony. Such was my fate to speak what he so desperately needed to hear. Without hesitating I told him absolutely NOT – to not even think of it. He already has his own style thing going, but there are limits. Get a pair of lederhosen and wear it to Oktoberfest and drink some beer and have fun, but that’s it. No lederhosen in Chico (leather shorts when it's 110 degrees? are you crazy?). No.

Then he said he was thinking about getting a kilt; how comfortable it would be. Are you kidding me!?! My answer was obvious (and no, he was not baiting me). I could not stop myself. Looking dead straight into his eyes, I told (ok more like scolded) him under no uncertain terms did I ever want to see him walk through the school doors wearing a kilt. Chico is not in Scotland, nor is he Scots! They make fun of Americans who do and he has to trust me on this. It would be ok to wear as formal attire at a wedding (kilt, jacket, hose, shoes and all is very handsome and appropriate), but not walking about town. No, no, no. If you have some sort of desire to feel the rush of air - wear it at home and in the yard, or go to a Highlands games in the Bay Area – knock yourself out. But no walking about town in a kilt.

After 25 years or so in the priesthood, the poor man just does not have a clue on how to fit in to secular society. One has to learn to check personal freedom from time to time. Even our college-age town transvestite dresses appropriately - simple blouse, skirt, heels, not too much make up - on a man way over 6 feet is quite unforgettable, but he pulls it off (of course it helps he has a pretty face and figure).

Why my otherwise intelligent student would want to open himself up to ridicule by wearing lederhosen or a kilt, I do not know. There is a time and place for such attire, and about town it ain't! Sadly, people might be judgemental and less likely to want to know the person he is inside. I am all in favor of personal style and rather like to see diversity, but there are boundaries (especially in the legal profession - especially if you hope to be employable). I could see he was a bit crushed, but it was for his own good and I told him so. (He actually said I was taking away his fantasy. What?!? This is his fantasy? Again, oh lord - they don't pay me enough for this.)

It was not easy to kindly give the hard truth knowing feelings might be hurt, but in good conscience I had no choice. Perhaps that is why he asked in the first place.

Guess I should now add “fashion consultant” to my job description.