Column: Nothing equates to the Spooner lifestyle

I stepped into an elevator in a Fashion Island high-rise recently and from the rear of the carriage came a greeting:

“Love your Spooner, bro!”

I knew immediately what it was about. You see, I belong to an exclusive club: The Lovin’ Spooner-ful.

OK, I just made that up.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a graybeard like myself. In fact, we could have passed for cousins what with our gray hair and chin whiskers. Though we didn’t know each other, we were obviously products of the same region and generation.

The “Spooner” my “cuz” was referring to was the idiosyncratic Reyn Spooner Hawaiian shirt I was wearing. I commonly reference it as my “Casual Sunday-Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday-Saturday attire.”

The Reyn Spooner is my ubiquitous retirement uniform. Just as khakis, spit-polished shoes (yes, we did spit on our shoes) and a garrison hat served as my uniform when I was 20, today, at 72, a Hawaiian shirt, sandals and baseball cap reflect my alter ego.

My elevator companion and I continued talking in Old Guy Spooner Lingo as we headed for the parking lot.

Me: “Whoa, thanks dude for the primo props.”

Him: “You got it bro, you’re killin’ it with those twitchin’ colors.”

Me: “Nothin’ better than righteous Newport threads!”

Him: “Keep rippin’ it, brother. ”

Me: “Right on man, for sure.”

So, what’s this all about and what the heck is a Reyn Spooner?

The Reyn Spooner brand is a preppy, button-down, sun-faded, salt-bleached aloha shirt. Its distinctive washed-out appearance features an inside brighter than its outside. It’s the epitome of “cool,” particularly for guys of a certain age and disposition, like myself.

Dinosaurs, yes … but dinosaurs with panache.

I have more than 25 Reyn Spooners in my closet, accumulated over three decades. My elevator BFF has me beat with 30-plus. Some are 20 years and older. I bet we have a few of the same patterns.

I learned, as my hydraulic lift buddy and I chatted, that years ago he worked in a shop that sold Spooners. He possesses deep state Spooner secrets that none of the rest of us can fathom.

“You can wear a Spooner almost forever,” he quipped as we tromped to our cars. “When you purchase a Spooner it feels stiff and rough.”

That it does … much like a highly starched and creased khaki uniform.

“But, after a while it becomes pliable and completely comfortable.”

That requires 50 spin cycles to accomplish, but you’ve got nothing but time on your hands because your Spooner is a lifetime companion.

The Reyn Spooner brand dates from 1940s-era Catalina Island and 1950s Waikiki Beach. Designer Reyn McCullough and seamstress Ruth Spooner established the company in 1961. I was a junior in high school.

Reyn, by the way, is officially pronounced “ren.” For 20 years I called it “rain spooner.” I was wrong. My wife Hedy had it right and she never lets me forget that. Still, I occasionally slip and call it “rain” — but, as 90% of the Reyn Spooner crowd express it, “It’s all good, bro.”

At church a few Sundays back, during the meet and greet session, my pastor — a youngster of 40 or so — advised parishioners to find an old guy in a Spooner and give him a hug. It was bonanza day for this elderly gent! My church fits the Spooner profile with the names Newport and Mesa in its title.

Now that I’m retired, I wear a Spooner virtually everywhere I go. It’s my best look.

Hedy and I are frequent visitors to the East Coast because four of our eight grandchildren live there. I wear Spooners in suffocating summer humidity and in 20-degree January ice storms. I’ve never encountered another “Spooner” in the rural North Carolina community where my kids live.

I’ve seen lots of T-shirts, hoodies, sweatshirts and overalls, but never a Spooner. Carolinians are missing out on the fun.

But, there’s a plethora of Lovin’ Spooner-fuls and Spooner Wives in the OC.

We’re a cultural phenomenon!

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.