A GAELIC lament creeps like mist across the water. Plaid-clad men with claymores at their side guard their womenfolk. Clan elders gather in makeshift tents to discuss the future of their people.

Welcome to the United States. And welcome, in particular, to Alexandria, a charming red-brick suburban city six miles south of Washington, where it was a case of kilts akimbo at the weekend.

Alexandria, founded by Scots 250 years ago, was celebrating Tartan Day, which officially takes place tomorrow.

In front of City Hall, Saltires flew proudly, and around a rectangular pool, stalls advertised Clans Stewart, MacLaren, Campbell, Scott, Henderson, Wallace, Hay, MacPherson, the Scottish National Party, An Comunn Gaidhealach, Uncle Tom Cobley and all.

It was a warm sunny day and these are warm sunny people. Here, Jock Tamson has left many bairns. Even the fierce-looking ones were friendly, and the audience included folk from all ethnic groups.

A line of men bearing targes, pikes, and dirks marched into the square followed by a pipe band. When the applause died down, a bell rang and the town crier read an excerpt from what he called "the Declaration of Arbrith".

A cry arose from the Wallace stall: "Freedom!" Mayor Donley, a handsome guy in a suit, welcomed the clans. Councilwoman Pepper, a vivacious bundle of tartanry, said: "For those of you who aren't Scots but would like to be, today you are Scots!" Her stated allegiance to the Campbells was booed. "Those MacDonalds," she sighed.

Representatives from the British embassy and from the Consul General in "Eedenborg" (to quote the town crier) spoke, and a reference to the trial of the Lockerbie bombing suspects elicited a cry of "All right!". Vernon Gardener, chief of the Clans of Scotland, told the audience: "Give us your name, address and phone number. We promise we won't solicit you."

However, the Scottish political parties were soliciting, if only for goodwill. Struan Stevenson, for the Conservatives, said that back home he could see from his window Ailsa Craig, a volcanic remnant of the eruptions that tore Scotland from the American continent and wedded it to England, "where we have remained ever since, some would say uneasily".

George Reid, the Scottish National Party's foreign affairs spokesman, made a surprise presentation of a specially made tartan from Tillicoultry. Mr Reid, a seasoned Americanist – he worked as an intern for a senator in 1963 – said later that the party was not seeking cash but influence.

Kilt-clad, as was Mr Stevenson, he observed of the event: "Inevitably, a gathering of the clans is going to be a bit Brigadoonish. But, while these people have been living here for 300 years, this is their culture. It is indigenous to them." After some beautiful Gaelic singing and harp playing from the Americans, some true Scots took the stage.

The Drumchapel Amateur Accordion Band, who had raised £12,000 to make the trip, brought their own brand of culture, including at least one "For God and Ulster" tattoo, to the event. In a performance best described as Shandesque, they were a sight and sound few would forget.

Around the stalls, Americans spoke of their love of Scotland, although Joe Apple (the Anglicised remains of a German name) had found the Butt of Lewis "the most forsaken place I have ever seen".

James Morrison made do with logging on to the Virtual Hebrides web site. He had traced his Scots ancestry right back to 1790. His wife made Sweet Aynnie's shortbread from a recipe handed down by her great-great-grandmother.

Cynthia Chambers had a terrier on her lap. As president of Westie Rescue, her love of Caledonia was distinctly canine: "I like their determination and their perky little faces."

Stuart Stone, a senior cataloguer at the Library of Congress, with a developing specialism in Gaelic books, had been distressed to read an article in The Scotsman linking the American-Scots movement to racism. He said: "It really upsets me. Only once in four years have I come across this. It was just a sheet of paper.

"It would be too easy for any Northern European group proud of its heritage to be called racist. But we just had four Afro-American Morrisons who joined us today. "

Don Macleay, boasting an SNP sticker on his traditional regalia, had his own take on Scottish history: "First the Romans then the English tried to suppress the Scots. But that's the trouble with genocide: you have to get everybody." He added: "We don't just live in the past. We may dress like that . But it is our culture also. It is our Scotland also."