How My Queer Tartan Could Leave Donald Trump Tangoed in Aberdeenshire
When I created *Queer Tartan*, I wasn’t thinking about Donald Trump—though the thought of him seething at its existence is an unexpected delight. As a symbol of queer joy, irreverence, and modern identity, my tartan is everything his version of Scotland isn’t. It’s bold, inclusive, and playful, while Trump’s tartan-clad brand of golf courses and nostalgia feels as fake as a *Made-in-China* kilt.
Scotland, after all, has a long tradition of irreverence, from *Trainspotting*’s gritty orange branding to the anarchic charm of *St. Trinian’s*. And let’s not forget that tartan has always walked the line between rebellion and kitsch—something my *Queer Tartan* leans into with a wink and a splash of kaleidoscopic color. But how does it stack up against Trump’s carefully curated Scottish image? Let’s take a closer look.
Tartan itself has become a symbol of both heritage and kitsch. On Scotland’s high streets, it’s everywhere, often plastered over cheap souvenirs and novelty items that tourists snap up by the dozen. Yet tartan also holds deep cultural resonance, woven into the fabric of punk rebellion thanks to Vivienne Westwood and more recently reimagined by designers like Charles Jeffrey Loverboy. It’s a fabric that refuses to conform—just like Scotland itself.
Donald Trump’s connection to tartan is wrapped up in his Aberdeenshire golf course, which he’s cloaked in traditional branding to project wealth, heritage, and luxury. But Trump’s version of tartan feels more like a monument to ego than a nod to tradition—reminiscent of the statues erected by Russian oligarchs, which were later toppled and melted down. My *Queer Tartan*, on the other hand, isn’t about clinging to outdated ideas of power. It’s a celebration of inclusivity, creativity, and joy, designed for people who want to express their identities with pride.
If Scotland has a spirit of rebellion, it’s epitomized by Ewan McGregor in *Trainspotting*. That film, with its gritty aesthetic and iconic use of orange branding, flipped the image of Scotland on its head, rejecting the sanitized tourist ideal for something raw and real. Similarly, *St. Trinian’s* brought a cheeky, anarchic charm to the screen, highlighting Scotland’s love of mischief. My *Queer Tartan* taps into that same energy. It’s not here to preserve the past—it’s here to reimagine it.
And let’s not forget Scotland’s most debonair export, Sean Connery, the original James Bond. Connery represented sophistication and charm with a touch of irreverence, the perfect counterpoint to Trump’s ostentatious displays of wealth. My *Queer Tartan* captures that duality, blending elegance with a punk edge. It’s a tartan that could grace a luxury boutique or a queer pride parade with equal ease—a far cry from the staid, traditional patterns Trump favors.
Scotland is no stranger to irreverence, from Alan Cumming’s nude photoshoot outside The Carlisle in New York to the fiercely independent ethos of brands like Prickly Thistle. Tartan, with all its contradictions, thrives in this space between luxury and rebellion. The recent V&A Dundee exhibition highlighted tartan’s versatility, showing how it has evolved from a symbol of clan loyalty to a canvas for modern creativity. My *Queer Tartan* takes this evolution further, transforming tartan into a celebration of queerness and self-expression.
Trump’s tartan is one of exclusion, designed to reinforce his image of power and privilege. My *Queer Tartan* flips the script. It’s colorful, playful, and unapologetically queer. Imagine it on drag queens, artists, and queer couples reclaiming the Highlands as a space of creativity and inclusion. Picture it as kaleidoscopic beads, bold fabric panels, and scarves flying high at pride events. It’s a tartan that says, “We’re here, we’re queer, and we’re redefining tradition.”
In the end, my *Queer Tartan* isn’t just about poking fun at Donald Trump—though that’s an undeniable bonus. It’s about celebrating Scotland’s rebellious spirit, its love of irreverence, and its ability to turn tradition on its head. From the cheeky humor of “you’ve been tangoed” to the grit of *Trainspotting*, Scotland has always been a land of contradictions. My tartan embraces those contradictions, creating something bold, modern, and undeniably Scottish.
Sorry, Donald—you’ve been tangoed.