The Hawaiian Shirt from Hell

Walking into Savers this past Sunday put me in a state of both awe and fear. I was in awe of the massive display of outdated clothes but fearful about the unknown history behind each piece of clothing. It was obvious which decade each item emerged from, and some of the pieces of clothing made me cringe. For example, I could only imagine what happened in the black leather pants I found, no doubt a product of the hot and sweaty 70s disco era. I am sure that back in the day these items were all the rage, but I still couldn’t help but wonder, “Who actually thought this looked cool?” And so I found myself standing before endless rows of men’s clothing, which were neatly assorted by size and color.

The task before me was strange but manageable. My purpose was to find an item that I would never in a million years wear, buy it, and then wear it for an entire day. I brought along my roommate, Austin, as a second opinion. We scoured the rows for around ten minutes, pointing out the ugliest items along the way. Then I saw it. Hanging in front of me was a hideous lime-green shirt, covered in a pattern that resembled a woven basket. Along the bottom of the shirt were a dozen or so little brown tiki men dancing back and forth. I snatched the shirt from the rack and held it up for Austin to see. He said, “No.” I said, “Perfect.”

After lugging the shirt back to the dorms, I quickly plucked my purchase out of the white plastic bag and threw it on. I felt like the Hawaiian shirt was built for someone else, and by someone else I mean an overweight man sipping beers somewhere in Mexico as Jimmy Buffet music blares in the background. I shook my head and tossed the shirt toward my dresser. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

My first class on Monday started at noon, and I normally eat right at eleven. The three people I normally ate lunch with were a little less pleased to see me once they caught glimpse of my obnoxious shirt. They kept on asking me if I was really going to wear this awful shirt all day. They had no idea. It was one of the shortest lunches I have ever eaten at the cafeteria. Generally I stop eating after my fourth or fifth trip up to the food lines, but today I stopped after one. No way was I going to humiliate myself more than I had too. The less people who saw me wear this shirt the better.

I walked to my 12:00 class and received some strange looks along the way. It was a particularly nice day out, mid 30s, but I still wore my coat for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, my bright green Hawaiian shirt seemed to leap out at everyone who walked past me as if it was saying, “Hey! I’m under here! No coat is ever going to cover me up! How warm does this guy think it is? 95 degrees? Who wears a Hawaiian shirt in the middle of winter?” I just wanted my shirt to shut up. Those little dancing tiki guys were starting to make me angry.

As I walked into my English 110 class, I was shocked to hear that it had been cancelled. This was the class I was doing the assignment for, and now Bailey was going to miss out on our hip new threads. The other students seemed a little disappointed too. Then it hit me. Class is cancelled. I started to think of all the fun things I could do in the hour before my 1:00 class. A million ideas flashed before my eyes until I remembered what I was wearing, and suddenly I felt a little less inclined to be active. I left the classroom in search of my own dark corner to sit in, far away from the judgment of others.

I entered my next class, Math 111, around 12:57. The class was already full, but not one person seemed to look up at me as I entered the room. I was not too surprised. Everyone in this class is only taking it to fill up their GE Math requirements, and half the time the teacher even appears to be tuned out. There is not much more to say about what happened. No one mentioned anything to me about my shirt, nor did anyone seem to notice.

After my Math class I took the bus back up to the dorms, which was also uneventful. By the time people start to get on the bus, they already have their iPods blasting at full volume and are usually too busy texting to notice anything else going on. Lucky me.

Wearing the shirt made me feel as if I was not being myself. People were not seeing me as I wanted them to, and it made me uneasy. There are occasions when I do consciously tweak my wardrobe, but never anything as drastic as this. The green Hawaiian shirt is now at the bottom of my dresser, and that is probably where it is going to stay. Perhaps one day the shirt will make a returning appearance, but I highly doubt it.