I think that would be cool beyond words, Eliza.

My Welsh husband dresses up in his Thomas of Wales kilt at the drop of an occasion, even at the height of summer. The tartan is a scarlet and green check that stops people in the street to point and take his picture. He wears it with a fancy beaver sporran and a Sherrifmuir jacket with dragons embroidered on the epaulets. He looks totally luscious. In contrast, when he is figged out so brilliantly, I normally wear black with a big rope of pearls. (They're freshwater but they look as good as the heirloom kind.)

The wearing of all this splendour always comes with a moment of reflection on the scorn and ridicule his rock-ribbed kin, especially of the older generation, would pour on his head if they could see him now. The Welsh have a bitter streak of tall-poppyism to them -- kinda sad, if you ask me.