I started wearing Hawaiian shirts in high school.  They were cheapos that four of us would buy at K-Mart for $3.99 or so.  Very bright, and loud, with vibrant colors, they were made from some kind of synthetic material that gave them what I perceived as a silky feel.  I may have had a silk tie or two, much later in life, and these shirts were not silk.

They also were decidedly not cool – in the sense of fashionable or trendy or “in.”  During high school, cool was seemingly very important, but my buddies and I didn’t give a shit.  Not about coolness, or much of anything else.

Now I read that some bizarre frat boys/white supremacists/right wingers call themselves Boogaloo and wear Hawaiian shirts.  I still favor Hawaiian shirts; I dread that my choice of that mode of apparel may lead to confusion.  My obvious age may serve to immunize me against that dread possibility.  I sure hope so.

My affinity for Hawaiian shirts did not end in high school.  After a fun, but lackluster freshman year at Grand Valley State College, I was aware that my student deferment was only a deferral, and that, given the war in Vietnam, I would likely be drafted upon completion of my remaining three years at GVSC.  Why not, I thought, do my hitch in the military now, and then have the GI Bill to pay for education later?  It made some logical sense, except for the war part.  We now know that the brain of a 19-year-old is not fully developed.  Those who knew me then probably suspected the truth of that.

Upon graduating from initial training, the Marine Corps sent most of us to Vietnam.  But not me.  I went to Hawaii.  I thought I’d serve my whole enlistment on the island, and that would have been fine with me.

Hawaiian shirts were plentiful on Oahu, which was no surprise.  What was a surprise was that they seemed acceptable in any setting.  I made the acquaintance of a young lady, a native Hawaiian girl, and in our few times together, before her brothers put the kibosh on her associating with a haole (white), we did some exploring together.  For some reason this included a trip to the gallery of the Hawaii State Senate on a day it was in session.  The state senators were all wearing Hawaiian shirts!  The shirts, I’m sure, didn’t come from K-Mart.  Maybe they were actually real deal silk.  The men wore their Hawaiian shirts over dress trousers, and shined shoes with socks.  The shirts were untucked, of course, and, there was not one necktie in evidence.  Aloha!

As it turned out, 1 ^st  Battalion 27 ^th Marines was disbanded, and we were sent to Vietnam as replacement troops.  Later I was back at GVSC, and found that one thing my recruiter had told me was actually true.  My GI Bill eligibility was such that school was paid for, and I usually had a little beer money, back when you would get a draft for a quarter.

I ended up working for quite a few years after college, and I wore white shirts, tucked in, with a necktie, and a sports jacket.  Day after day, I put on that standard uniform.  Once in a very great while I might go wild and wear a blue shirt.

Then I retired.  My wife and I visited Oahu a couple of times.  She insisted I buy a certain Hawaiian shirt.  It was handmade, had coconut shell buttons, was beautifully decorated in earth tones with traditional Hawaiian designs, and did  not  feature a collar button (as if to say “don’t even think about wearing a tie with this garment).  The shirt was nice, but I balked at the price.  I resisted her urgings to the best of my ability, but she prevailed.  I still have it.  I still wear it.

I have other Hawaiian shirts as well, although none as quite as fine as the one just described.  We’ve visited Mexico numerous times over the years, often the island of Cozumel.  There is store there called Soy Bonita.  As one might guess from the name, it is primarily a shop for ladies wear, but they have one small corner devoted to men’s shirts.  These shirts are much more like the Hawaiian shirts I favored in high school.  Loud.  Colorful.  Silkyish.  Inexpensive.  I have many of those shirts, made in India, purchased in Mexico, featuring Hawaiian motifs.  What’s not to like?  (the name of the store, by the way, translates to “I Am Pretty”)  Of course I have other Hawaiian-style shirts, too, some of them quite nice.

Please, if you see me around, wearing one of these shirts, try not to judge.  I’m not Boogaloo.  I just like Hawaiian shirts.

Fernando famously said, “It’s better to look good than to feel good.”  But why not both?

Mrs. Basura says she hopes those Boogaloo boys don’t start wearing plaid flannel shirts when the weather cools.

Want to see some nice Hawaiian shirts, and perhaps the always popular bobble hips Hula girls?  Check out Hilo Hattie.com