Skirt Party

There are many types of parties. Saturday evening was my first ever "skirt" party. The concept is this: drinking in skirts possibly could be more fun than drinking in other styles of clothing, for men and women alike. I believe the Scottish culture thrives on this very idea.

Unfortunately, the skirt selection in my closet is tragically limited, thus forcing me to borrow. What's more, because I was running late I could not be present for the choosing of the skirt, which resulted in me being presented with two options. The first, which I first saw while walking to the party, was a stylish and somewhat long-- down to my knees, at least-- jean skirt, complete with little pockets. The second was a little green thing which appeared too short and too small, but then I could still be under the effects of Mr. Pratt, the dollar bill carrying Dean of my Catholic High School. I'm positive the green skirt would not have passed the Dollar Rule, that ancient law that says that inappropriateness begins exactly a dollar's length up from the knee.

Apparently I'm a bit of a girl when it comes to skirts, but the jean skirt just didn't offer me enough mobility, so after about thirty minutes of uncomfortable fidgeting I stole into an empty bedroom and changed into the green one. Much better, albeit a little more revealing. The problem was that most of the guys at the party thought that "skirt" meant "kilt" or "man-cloth" or "towel", and thus I was left as one of three in an actual skirt, and of these three I was the only one without leggings.