The Magazine

Lole o ka Lā: Hawaiian Resilience Through Fashion

  • By: Elizabeth Nohea Coleman
A woman stands smiling to the right of her open closet, displaying a selection of colorful vintage dresses. She is wearing a two-tone turquoise Muʻumuʻu with darker blue flowers printed on a light blue base. The dress has puffed sleeves and buttons down the front. She is wearing a necklace made of purple sea urchin spikes, a woven brown hat with a brown and blue feathered lei wrapped around the brim, and a mix of gold, jade, pearl, and lauhala bracelets down her arms. Her hair is pinned up, and she is wearing button earrings made of Niʻihau shells. There is a lamp on the other side of the closet covered in a bright pinkish-red crochet. A circular mirror hangs behind, with hooks under it, displaying her necklace collection.
Franceska Durkin-Tang has curated a collection of Muʻumuʻu that now fills her closet in her family's five-generation home, in Kaimukī, on the island of Oʻahu. This two-toned turquoise garment was designed at T&L Muʻumuʻu Factory, which has designed Muʻumuʻu in Hawaiʻi for nearly 40 years. This look is styled with a gifted Tahitian lei wana (sea urchin necklace) and a complementary pāpale (hat) woven of lauhala (pandanus leaves) and haloed by a brown and blue feathered lei hulu (feather lei). Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 2, 2026.

“…and this is my lole o ka lā!” The refrain echoes throughout Hawaiʻi’s expanding social media presence as more and more young Native Hawaiians take to Instagram and TikTok to show off their #LoleOKaLā (outfit of the day) for the annual Merrie Monarch Festival—a week-long celebration of Hawaiian culture through hana noʻeau (art), mele (music), oli (chant), and hula (dance) culminating in Hawaiʻi’s most prestigious hula competition. Amid the week’s cultural expressions, the newest showstopper is Hawaiian fashion, seen in crowds of kānaka (people) gathering in Hilo. From the festival grounds to social media, the visual explosion of Hawaiian fashion underscores a booming revitalization of cultural affirmation and resilience through the simple yet ceremonial act of adorning oneself in lole aloha (aloha attire).

One of the most iconic lole aloha drapings throughout past decades has been the Muʻumuʻu. Born from floor-length, loose-fitting dresses with modest necklines and long sleeves introduced to Hawaiʻi by Christian missionaries in the early 19th century, the Holokū was the original Hawaiian adaptation of this Western garment. As a form of resistance, Hawaiian Christian converts further adapted this silhouette to be more practical for everyday wear and Hawaiʻi’s warm climate: they shortened the sleeves, and the Holokū became the Muʻumuʻu, meaning “cut off.” Over time, the Muʻumuʻu became a symbol of Hawaiian fashion, beloved well beyond Hawaiʻi’s borders. Today, a growing community of younger Hawaiians has returned to adorning themselves in Muʻumuʻu, alongside the tutus and aunties who have passed this tradition down from generation to generation.

The image displays two panels. The left panel showcases a woman in a floor-length magenta dress with a small repeating black quilt pattern running its length. The dress has puffed sleeves that stop above her elbows and two tiers of ruffles billowing in the wind at the hem, with the bottom ruffle made of solid black fabric. She holds a small square woven purse in her right hand, decorated with yellow and red flower hair clips. She secures her hat to her head gently with her left hand. The hat is woven in light brown and circled on the brim with a black-and-tan striped feather lei. She stands on a sloped green hillside in long grass backdropped by an ʻulu (breadfruit) tree and plumeria trees. The right panel is a close-up of a woman's seated torso, revealing the details of the brown vintage dress she wears that has a white and darker brown lace trim. The woman is wearing several strands of tiny tan and maroon shells twisted together into a choker necklace. Her hands rest in her lap, showcasing stacks of bracelets and rings made of gold, pearls, jade, and lauhala on both of her wrists and all of her fingers.
On the left, Franceska wears one of the first Muʻumuʻu she thrifted in Kona, designed by T&L Muʻumuʻu Factory. This silhouette features puffed sleeves and tiered, two-toned ruffles lining the bottom hem. Woven by Karen Hasegawa of the Kona Weavers Hui, Franceskaʻs pāpale lauhala (pandanus leaf hat) features a lei hulu created by Leonetta Mills and a koa hat pin carved by “Uncle Wes”. On the right, Franceska wears one of her first Betes. Adorned in bracelets, bangles, and cuffs of jade, pearl, gold, and lauhala, Franceska further accents this Muʻu with a precious lei pūpū Niʻihau (Niʻihau shell necklace). Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 2, 2026.

In 2014, the phrase “Muʻumuʻu Month” was coined on social media by Shannon Hiramoto, a Kauaʻi designer, to honor the collection of vintage Muʻumuʻu her friend’s mother handed down to her. January became the runway to showcase lole o ka lā, and the many beautiful patterns, silhouettes, and designs found in vintage and modern Muʻumuʻu. In the eight years since, Muʻumuʻu Month has gained popularity, revealing day after day beautiful Muʻumuʻu worn by Hawaiians of all ages across the paeʻāina (Hawaiian archipelago).

In her family's Kaimukī home, Franceska displays memories of nieces, cousins, parents, aunties, and her sister draped in Muʻumuʻu and centered by the matriarch, Franceskaʻs grandma Avis-Ann Tang (Wills). Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 2, 2026.

For some, the everyday practice of lole aloha adornment does not end in January. Oʻahu Kanaka ‘Ōiwi Franceska Durkin-Tang has spent the past several years wearing Muʻumuʻu as her lole o ka lā, despite never feeling drawn to lole aloha or connected to her Hawaiian culture growing up. Her mindset began to change when Franceska was confronted with the passing of her beloved grandma, who raised her and with whom she had a very close bond. “I remember my grandma dressing up for church; she was always adorned in a beautiful Muʻumuʻu alongside the other aunties. I always admired their grace, how they moved through a room, and how they treated people.”

A woman stands atop a street barrier railing, looking out at the street below and off into the distance at a pointed mountain peak. The sky is bright blue, and there are clouds off on the horizon. She is wearing a red vintage dress with yellow flowers and a yellow bustle detached from the back of the dress, held in her right hand and billowing in the wind. In her left hand, she holds a square brown woven purse with curved bamboo handles. She wears a dark brown woven hat and two yellow-and-red floral hair clips on either side of her bun.
Franceska stands at the corner of her childhood street, looking out to Lēʻahi (Diamond Head), dressed in her Sunday best, like those attending the church down the road, which was founded by her great-great-grandmother, Kaʻimi Kaniaupio, from her family's home. Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 2, 2026.

These memories inspired Franceska to explore wearing a Muʻumuʻu to honor and connect with her grandma and her cultural identity. “I was in this shift in my life, and I just went out to this random thrift store in Kona [on Hawaiʻi Island], and I found some muʻu, and I just felt so beautiful in it. It was a Bete, and my grandma always wore the most beautiful Betes [traditionally styled muʻumuʻus designed by Bete Inc, founded by Betty Manchester in 1959].” A vulnerable moment of yearning for connection with a lost loved one became the start of Franceska’s journey to build her own collection of vintage Muʻumuʻu.

Now, Franceska feels a great sense of cultural pride in her lole o ka lā. “I am Hawaiian. I’m not just dressing like this just to dress like this; it’s who I am. There’s something beautiful about being overtly Hawaiian and dressing overtly Hawaiian. I represent who I am as a kanaka outwardly. It’s a way of honoring our ancestors.”

A head and shoulders portrait of a woman standing in front of large heart-shaped dark green leaves. She is wearing a light purple spaghetti-strap dress that cinches at the front and ties into a bow. The pattern on the dress is printed in light grey and consists of hexagonal shapes with dots in their centers. She has a tattoo of crescent-moon shapes and columns of small triangles lining her chest in a curved pattern from shoulder to shoulder. She is wearing her hair in a half-up, half-down style, with a bun at the top of her head, held in place by a bamboo hair pick carved with a pattern on one end. She is wearing clear glasses with three crystals on the sides. She has a nose piercing in either nostril and is wearing earrings made of a round paper-like material printed with a black inked pattern.
Kaʻiukapu Baker stands proudly in the māla wauke (mulberry garden), where she harvested the bark used to create the kapa fibers for her kapa holokū. In her hair, she wears an ʻohe kāpala (carved bamboo printing tool), which she carved herself and used to print the kiʻi (design) adorning the neckline and ruffles of the garment. She carries the moʻolelo (story) of the holokū through her earrings, crafted from circular pieces of the same stamped kapa, each bearing the identical ʻohe kāpala design. Her dress comes from Molokaʻi design house Kealopiko and is stamped with a pattern of hexagonal shapes with a dot at the center to represent ʻulu (breadfruit)—a symbol of growth and resilience worn directly on the body through the lole. Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 4, 2026.

For the designers, pride in the lole lies in intentionally weaving haʻi moʻolelo (storytelling) into the garments. “There are different ways to include the moʻolelo into the garments, and that’s always going to have to do with a print, your colors, even a silhouette can tell a story just in itself,” says Kaʻiukapu Baker, an emerging costume and fashion designer and cultural practitioner. Kaʻiu was raised in the Hana Keaka (Hawaiian Theater) program and is a proud Native speaker and kaiapuni (Hawaiian language immersion) graduate.

Three images display different perspectives of a woman with long brown hair wearing a vintage-style floor-length dress made of white bark cloth. The far-left image shows a close-up of the neckline and boutonniere detailing on the dress. The neckline is collared and dips into a conservative V-shape. The hem is dyed blue and stamped in black ink with a pattern of diamond shapes with circles at their centers. The woman holds her hand up to her collarbone, showcasing the dyed blue and pink ruffled edge of the long sleeve. The boutonniere is made of bark cloth, shaped like a flower petal, and dyed goldenrod. The middle image shows a close-up of the bottom hem of the dress, revealing a wide ruffle dyed in blue and pink and stamped with the same diamond pattern along the edgeline. The woman's hand is holding the dress, showcasing the sleeve ruffle detail. The final image showcases a wide shot of the woman and the dress from head to toe. She stands backdropped by tall mulberry trees within a patch of sunlight.
Kawehi Johnston lovingly adorns the kapa holokū designed for her by her fiancé, Kaʻiukapu Baker. This gown showcases a delicate maka ʻupena (eye of the fishnet) watermark and intricate natural detailing. The garment is structured with a collar, yoke, and single-edge ruffles along the sleeves and hem, honoring the historic silhouette of the holokū. The neckline, sleeves, and bottom hem of the garment are dyed with natural Hawaiian dyes. ʻUkiʻuki is a native lily whose berries produce a rich blue dye that turns vibrant pink when mixed with an acidic solution, such as vinegar. ʻŌlena, Hawaiian turmeric, creates a potent goldenrod used to dye the boutonniere designed to represent pua melia (plumeria flower). Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 4, 2026.

“The most influential thing in my life and my design process is my language, and being someone who can speak the language, read the language, articulate, and orally pass down the knowledge. I utilize a lot of Hawaiian scriptures to understand how our kūpunas (Elders, Ancestors) were thinking at the time they were creating, be inspired by the generations that came before me, and be my most authentic self as a Hawaiian.” Part of that authenticity also comes from a deep connection to ʻāina (land) and kūpuna. When Kaʻiu designs garments to represent a specific place, they are intentionally sewn, dyed, and printed with the moʻolelo of that ʻāina or of its people.

To begin this process of haʻi moʻolelo through her designing, Kaʻiu turns to ʻike kūpuna (ancestral knowledge) found in mele, oli, hula, and recordings of mānaleo (native speakers) found on Kaniʻāina (Voices of the Land), an educational resource for Hawaiian language preservation. Researching ʻike kupuna is critical not only to the design process, but also to the designer’s ability to stand out in Hawaiʻi’s rapidly expanding fashion landscape. “There are so many fashion brands in Hawaiʻi now that it’s kind of hard to be unique. And I think the most unique thing you can do is to just do your research super hard and then be super keen to put all the mana (divine power) and intention into the garment.”

A double-paneled image split horizontally to show two vantage points of a woman interacting with the dark green heart-shaped leaves of the mulberry plant. She is wearing a light purple dress with spaghetti straps, gold rings, and glasses. In the top panel, the woman is turning the leaf up to examine its shape. The bottom panel is a close-up of the woman's hands as she picks a leaf bud off the tops of the growing plant to allow for more shoots to come up from the plant.
Kaʻiu visits the wauke growing in the garden at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa Center for Hawaiian Studies. She demonstrates how to distinguish between different wauke varieties by observing the subtle differences in their leaf shapes. She also picks the muʻo (leaf bud) to encourage more shoots to sprout from the tree. By undertaking the project to create a kapa holokū, Kaʻiu developed a stronger relationship with the ʻāina and the resources she needed to access to connect with this traditional textile art. Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 4, 2026.

As a cultural practitioner, Kaʻiu believes that the most effective way to connect with ʻike kūpuna is to practice and perpetuate traditional practices. “With traditional textiles, it is a tedious process, but I think everybody should make something traditional in their life, and then try to do a modern take on it to see which one is more valuable to them.”

Kaʻiu had this experience herself when she endeavored to design a holokū made entirely of kapa, a traditional fiber made from wauke (mulberry) bark that is stripped, soaked for two weeks, and pounded to spread out the fibers and create the sturdy cloth. “That was probably the hardest thing I had to do in my life. It was very ambitious, but we did it, and I’m very proud of it.” The process of pounding kapa allowed Kaʻiu to share an experience with her kūpuna. “It was very special to be in a place where kūpuna would have been and be in the exact position of sitting, of being with the kapa, having your kua (base), having your iʻe kuku (pounding implement), and just jamming like that.”

Two women stand side by side, looking lovingly toward one another. The woman on the right has long dark hair and is wearing a vintage-style dress made of a white bark cloth. The woman on the left has long brown hair, half-up in a bun. She is wearing a light purple spaghetti-strapped dress and is holding the other woman's hand to her chest in both hands. They stand together within a tropical garden shaded by the heart-shaped leaves of tall mulberry trees.
Kaʻiu completed her kapa holokū under the guidance of her kumu (teacher and mentor), Kaliko Spencer, alongside her professor, Maile Speetjens, as part of the Advanced Hawaiian Fiber Arts program at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. She designed the garment with her then-girlfriend in mind, and since its completion in 2024, the kapa holokū has been worn only by her now-fiancé, Kawehi Johnston. Photo credit: Nohea Coleman, August 4, 2026.

Cultural expression through adornment has influenced more young artists and wearers alike to pursue ʻike kūpuna as a way to better understand their heritage and to more authentically share the stories of our people. Though fashion in Hawaiʻi takes many forms, from modern Muʻumuʻu to kapa holokū, the underlying thread behind lole o ka lā is a desire to connect with and uplift our Indigenous traditions through the physical demonstration and embodiment of our kūpuna’s resilience.

Donate today to amplify Indigenous voices and News!

Help us in our mission to continue sharing the work of Indigenous storytellers, artists, and journalists. We are the only Indigenous created and operated independent international publication in the world that runs in both English and Spanish. The Magazine is entirely free online and print copies are free for our Indigenous communities that can’t easily access our content online. 

 Our work crosses borders, oceans, languages, disabilities, digital divides, and prison walls. Your donation is essential to continuing our work. 

Donate

About the Author

Elizabeth Nohea Coleman is a Kanaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) photographer, multi-passionate teaching artist, entrepreneur, advocate, and storyteller. As a creative, Nohea aims to build community through intentional storytelling rooted in aloha, making art that honors people, identity, land, and kinship. She strives to uplift her kaiāulu (community), especially young ʻōiwi artists, empowering them to cultivate and share their unique creative voice with curiosity and abandon. Beyond the arts, Nohea is a lifelong learner who grounds her creative spirit in hula, aloha ʻāina, and the joy of exploration—through meaningful connections, reading, and travel.