rex l. camino's summer fashion tips

The good thing about a closet full of Hawaiian shirts is that you can never tell when they are stained. That is also the bad thing. One is left to rely on a keen olfactory sense to know when it is time for a Hawaiian shirt to go into the wash, and I am unfortunately bereft of such a gift. I was instead blessed with bat-like hearing, the ability to cross one eye at a time, and the ability to read the mind of Tucker Carlson.

True story: Tucker for some reason has the theme song to Matlock constantly playing in his head. It does not mix well with the constant playing of Night Ranger's Sister Christian that I am sometimes afflicted with, and it has become my cross to bear.

But the Hawaiian shirt is truly a godsend for oafish individuals like myself who invariably leave a part of each meal on their attire. You don't get that with the bowling shirt or seersucker suit. You need palm trees, hibiscus flowers, surf boards, hula girls, and and a number unidentifiable island icons to camouflage the ketchup or apple butter stains that are the battle scars that day's meals. They are also roomy enough to allow for the most obscene of buffets.

The Hawaiin shirt also gives one a festive appearance that not even the winningest beauty pageant smile can match. It overcomes my often dour or confused facial expressions and gives me the air of one who is glad to be in the company of all those I happen to be around. In an ironic twist, utter strangers feel free to comment on my Hawaiian shirt, and I am tempted to punch them. They would never expect it from one so festive. My shirts give me the element of surprise. We should clad entire armies in them.

Too bad they are all in the laundry this morning.