So when is the whole organic, buy-local, anti-­plastic, anti-everything­-fake movement going to get around to being angry about fake lei?

This great symbol of Hawaii’s best attributes — its fertile lands, its warmhearted people, its history of upholding cultural touchstones — has been reduced to cheap plastic nuts on a plastic string.

How can organic purists put up with fake stuff touching the human body, rubbing against the skin, being so close to the eyes and nose and mouth? How can arbiters of cultural authenticity bear the indignity of this cheap appropriation?

Those purple vanda orchid lei made from flowers imported from Thailand are bad enough — raise your hand if you’ve seen an excited tourist raise the blossoms up to his or her nose and pretend they can smell the scentless flower. Yeah. There’s no smell to smell, but they take a deep breath and sigh like they’ve inhaled heaven itself. So pitiful.

Those orchids come here on airplanes (jet fuel, carbon footprint, etc.). But at least they’re actual flowers.

But then there’s the plastic kukui nuts strung on polyester string. Or the foam crown flower entwined around synthetic cord. What about the plastic kukui/foam crown flower/cluster of weird yellow mollusk shells combo? Do those ever biodegrade? Do the fake nuts eventually make their way into the ocean and trick seals and crabs and dolphins into thinking, “Hey! Cocktail party mix!” and then get lodged in their various throats leading to various horrible deaths of various marine creatures?

OK, maybe that’s a bit much. But how did plastic nuts get to be a symbol of Hawaii?

Consider the advantages:

They’re cheap, so you can afford to give one to every “honored guest” who shows up at the annual mahalo luncheon.

They’re plastic, so they won’t fade in a couple of hours on somebody’s sweaty neck, and tourists can take them back home and love them forever and ever.

They’re reusable, so at the end of the event, you can ask your guests to return their lei to a collection box near the door, kind of like returning the 3-D glasses to the theater at the end of a movie. Tacky but efficient. There could be a box at the airport for tourists to return fake lei when they’re done with their trip. Spray with disinfectant and hana hou.

They’re readily available, because the sad truth is that fewer people have lei-making flowers growing in their backyards anymore. Fewer people have yards. Gone are the days of going outside and raiding the yellow plumeria tree by the clothesline for enough flowers for five lei for visiting cousins. Gone are the days of making a lei for somebody’s office birthday party or piano recital. Now a lei is something you buy on the way to an event or stash in the glove box afterward because there are already too many fake nuts hanging from the rearview mirror.

In the negative column, there’s this:

They’re fake!

Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.