Amos Kotomori was wrapping up production details on his Fall 2011 men’s collection in July and August when, in a Bangkok factory, he saw a familiar-looking piece of fabric sticking out of a pile. He had to investigate.
What he saw was a sample of vintage Japanese rayon dating to the mid-20th century, and digging further, he pulled out several other pieces from the same era.
It turns out the factory owner was a collector who had found the vintage textiles in Japan years ago and bought them with no particular plan to use them. But Kotomori knew exactly the treasures he had discovered, and knew he would find an audience in Hawaii eager to have them. So, in addition to his main collection of "Bali Cloud" shirts, a contemporary adaptation of a Thai motif, he’s introducing limited-edition men’s shirts fashioned from the vintage rayon.
With vintage shirts made of the same type of fabric selling for about $1,000 to $3,000, the allure is clear. Those who appreciate the drape, weight and stunning graphic prints of the rayon get a newly made "vintage" shirt at a fraction of the cost of one made 50 to 60 years ago that might be faded or frayed or bear small puka.
"It was serendipitous to find something like that and bring it back to Hawaii, because that’s what started the aloha shirt craze," said Kotomori, who’s making it his mission to bring back Aloha Friday and the aloha shirt, which is in its 75th-anniversary year. The aloha shirt seems to be going the route of the disappearing muumuu for a younger generation of men raised on T-shirts.
Timing for the introduction couldn’t be better, with the Aloha Festivals’ floral parade providing the perfect excuse to don aloha wear Saturday morning as floats, pau riders and marching bands wind their way from Ala Moana Beach Park to Kalakaua Avenue and Kapiolani Park.
KOTOMORI said Musashiya store was one of the first to sell the aloha shirt, a hapa hybrid created by Japanese tailors who in the early 1900s had already embraced the multicultural aspects of life in Hawaii. They used silks imported from Japan to make shirts more suitable to Western tastes and a laid-back Hawaii lifestyle.
Silk gave way to rayon after World War I, when in response to the European rayon that was flooding their country, Japanese manufacturers met the challenge by producing their own printed rayon, which Kotomori calls "the polyester of its day."
Like its silk predecessors, the early rayon shirts bore imagery of Japanese landscapes and motifs of bamboo, pine and plum tree, symbolic of strength, long life and good fortune. Beachboys picked up on them, and so did an entrepreneurial Ellery Chun, who registered the name "Aloha Shirt" in 1936.
Early visitors saw the shirts on the beachboys and began requesting them, fueling a new industry involving textile designers and manufacturers who introduced local flavor with bright color and a mix of floral, tiki, palm and hula dancer prints.
The shirts from the 1930s to 1950, deemed the golden age of the aloha shirt, are most prized today.
Kotomori decided that even with his strict fall collection deadline looming, creating the limited-edition shirts would be a great way to mark the anniversary of his men’s collection. Each shirt will be numbered, and because of the limited amount of fabric available, there will only be about 14 to 50 pieces made of each design.
Kotomori’s limited-edition vintage rayon shirts will sell for $245 at Neiman Marcus. He decided on that mass-market price because, he said, "I just want people to wear it because that’s how my energy and name will live on. I’m hoping people will start collecting it."
Kotomori has other reasons to celebrate his anniversary. Last summer he was diagnosed with cancer yet still managed to create his collection while under going intensive chemotherapy treatments. Even when sapped of energy, he said he was driven by passion for doing "things I love to do. It was a different kind of adventure for me."
Off treatment now for three months, he must continue being vigilant about his health, but said, "I have a new sense of possibilities. I was forced to think, ‘What do you do with the time that you have?’"
Although he may have felt some regret in the past about having been called home from Paris in his 20s, before he had explored all his capabilities as a designer, he says now, "I feel the doors have opened again. Maybe I wasn’t ready then but I’m ready now.
"I think I’m turning into a dog because I’m all about living in the moment. It’s not about the past. It’s not about the future, but just enjoying now."
