D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
June
2009
Paradise Found
At Kaya's casual-clothing store in Mesilla, the tropics come in S, M, L and XL.
By David A. Fryxell / Photos by Lisa D. Fryxell
As one look in our closet would confirm, our enthusiasm for Hawaiian shirts knows no bounds — except, perhaps, the physical confines of said closet's walls. (Although, perhaps, an addition. . . ?) That term "Hawaiian," however, may be too restrictive, as our mania for silky, rayon-y (?), colorful apparel has grown far beyond the original handful of shirts bedecked with palm trees and blossoms. If you've ever stepped inside a Tommy Bahama store (there's one in Tucson — we can give you directions) and sniffed the heady aroma of coconut oil and tropical temptations therein, you know what we mean.
 |
Kaya's owner Hiram Davis shows off
a shirt. |
One of the chief pleasures of life in Southwest New Mexico, in fact, especially now as the weather warms, is that our "Hawaiian" (for lack of a better term) shirt wardrobe can come out of the closet. Our suits and ties from a previous life hang forlornly in a hall closet, forgotten. Here it's Hawaiian shirts and shorts, as soon as the mercury says such a wardrobe isn't outright madness. We've been known to reach for a Tommy Bahama shirt and crack open the shorts drawer on the occasional balmy day in February.
So, if anyone's looking for Father's Day gift ideas for us this month, we can think of no finer place to shop than Kaya's Cottons and Things for the Desert, tucked into an unassuming adobe along Avenida de Mesilla. You can pick out the store from among Mesilla's similarly housed offerings by the Hawaiian-shirt-clad mannequin seated out front. "Pulu" — that's the mannequin's name, Hawaiian for "cotton," picked from 60 entries in a contest — sports a different shirt each week. By the time you read this, Pulu will have made the seasonal transition from long pants to shorts, no doubt making his sun-drenched vigil somewhat less onerous.
We thought we were, well, overboard about Hawaiian shirts and such until we met Kaya's owner, Hiram Davis, PhD, whose enthusiasm puts ours in the shade. Davis' "PhD" is not, however, in Hawaiian shirt-ology, but in library science. About 20 years ago, Davis was the head of the New Mexico State University library. His roundabout journey back to Las Cruces over the next couple of decades took him to Michigan State University, the Library of Congress and other libraries, before he ultimately retired from Cal Poly five years ago after 37 years in academia.
That librarian's mindset can still be seen in Kaya's colorful interior, where the ragingly colorful shirts hang just so — each separated by precisely the same amount of space, as though shelved like books. But it was Davis', let's say, more freewheeling side that led him into the retail world — specifically, a fondness for Drawstring pants. That's both a brand name and a description of the loose-fitting, casual pants he prefers and now also sells.
"I found these pants years ago in New Orleans," says Davis, a hearty, good-natured guy who would shatter any stereotypes you may harbor about librarians. "They're these fake-front, kind of unisex pants. I kept buying them from this lady, but it felt like I was bothering her. So, being a librarian, I looked up the company and found they were in Glendale, Calif., and contacted them directly.
"One day this guy at the company said, 'You oughta sell this stuff.' Where? He suggested Maine." Davis laughs, a chuckle that comes from deep in his Hawaiian-shirt-clad chest.
When retirement loomed, however, Davis started taking the idea of selling the sort of "distinctive casual clothing for men" that he loves to wear more seriously — albeit not "Down East." He took two-dozen seminars and Small Business Administration programs to learn about running a business. At one point, he had his possible retail location narrowed down to California and Florida; then three hurricanes in a row hit Florida, and Davis re-thought.
"I started reading this magazine called Where to Retire, and every other issue mentioned Las Cruces," he recalls. "So we came back for a visit, and were blown away by how much had changed. When I was last here, Sonoma Ranch was a landfill!"
Davis opened Kaya's in Mesilla two years ago — the store just celebrated its second anniversary in early May. "Nobody was really carrying this kind of clothing here," he says. "I looked at all the demographics, and they seemed right. The store appeals to retirees, young professionals, tourists. We even get people from El Paso; there's a salon owner there who refers customers to us."
He named the store for his grandson, Kaya, now age eight and living in Atlanta. Kaya's mother came from Cape Verde, an island nation off the coast of Africa — hence the boy's appropriately tropical name.
Kaya's grandpa says, "He tells people, 'I own a store. If you go there, my grandpa will give you a shirt.'"
Well, not exactly. In fact, "distinctive casual clothing" of the sort sold at Kaya's tend to be on the pricey side. Knowing his market, however, Davis skips the expensive extremes of the Hawaiian-shirt trade. "I have to be careful," he says. "There's nothing over $200 in the store."
That lets out some of the higher-end creations of Jhane Barnes, whose intricate designs nonetheless occupy a wall at the front of the store. Barnes uses fractal mathematics to develop her textiles, which fans say blur the line between menswear and art. (There's even a fan site, www.jhanebarnesisgod.com.)
Davis fingers one of the elaborately patterned shirts. "It feels like silk, but it's 100 percent cotton," he says. He calls out the names of each shirt design as if identifying old friends: "Evolution. Moxie. Ripple."
Opposite the Jhane Barnes line, we're delighted to see, is a rack of Tommy Bahama wear. "That's the brand most people know," Davis says. "This isn't a full Tommy Bahama shop, though."
Chagrined, we stop sniffing the air for the coconut-infused perfume of suntan lotion.
Continuing the tour, Davis leads the way to a rack of what — if they didn't look so stylish — we'd be tempted to describe as "bowling shirts." He enlightens us: "These are Nat Nast. When 'The Sopranos' was on, James Gandolfini wore a lot of these. On 'Two and a Half Men,' Charlie Sheen wears nothing but Nat Nast.
"Not everything is over the top," Davis goes on, pulling out a subdued two-panel, blue-and-white shirt for inspection. "But you can't be afraid of colors and stripes."
We assure him of our fearlessness.
"This embroidered shirt — " It's a creamy orange, with a cascade of musical notes spilling toward a saxophone. " — was created in honor of Lester Young. It's design number 226. I had a customer bring in another music shirt, done to honor Charlie Parker. It was design number 90, so that was a long time ago."
On the wall behind Davis, a "Nat Nast" clock ticks off the seconds.
In the next room, Davis points to another of our favorite brands, Tori Richard. We've worn a Tori Richard shirt today, in fact, and hope he'll notice. "Tori Richard has been making shirts for over 50 years. These are new," Davis says, indicating a shirt worn by a mannequin and another carefully folded beside it, " — vintage prints. This one was originally from 1968, and this one from 1970."
Alas, neither shirt is in our size. We can almost hear our credit cards sigh with relief. (Perhaps, though, our wallet would be more comfortable in the back pocket of some Tommy Bahama shorts?)
"Every Christmas, Tori Richard makes these special holiday shirts," Davis adds. "They always do a monkey shirt. Look how the monkey is embroidered inside the shirt pocket."
He moves on, ticking off other brands Kaya's carries — Citron, Reyn Spooner, Sandro Moscolone sandals from Brazil, Zenegra sandals, Saltaire shorts. Pulse quickening, we're beginning to see that "Hawaiian shirts" encompasses much more than just shirts.
Linen pants, for example. "You say 'linen' and a lot of guys back off, but these are not your mother's linen that gets wrinkled in a minute," Davis explains.
"Now these are my favorites," he continues, stepping over to a rack of shirts that appear to have been salvaged from a paint-store explosion. "Jams World. These are definitely for guys who are not afraid of color!"
We begin to feel the first stirrings of such fear. The Jams World "New Mexico chile pepper" shirt that Davis shows us might be a tad over the top, even for us.
"I have this one," Davis says, plucking another Jams World riot of hues from the rack. "Obviously, I am not afraid of wearing color."
Vowing to work on our courage, we follow Davis back toward Kaya's entrance, where he hands us a card bearing the store's clever logo: a Zia symbol with a cotton boll in the center. Kaya's, we learn from the card, offers a "Shirt Club" for repeat customers. A quick, surreptitious swipe to the mouth makes certain we're not drooling.
"The fun thing is the people who come in the store," Davis is saying when our brain is again able to focus. "I've met interesting people from all over the world. It's a labor of love."
Indeed, we think, nodding and wondering just how much it would cost to add on to our closet.
Kaya's Cottons and Things for the Desert, 2340 Avenida de Mesilla in Mesilla, is open Tues.-Sat. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. and Sun. 12-5 p.m. Closed Mon. 523-0944, www.kayascottons.com
David A. Fryxell edits Desert Exposure in order to support
his Hawaiian-shirt habit.