One of the iconoclastic boys of the beach has his roots in the land of polar fleece and mukluks.
Tommy Bahama, the menswear mainstay known for loosefitting silks and palm-tree graphics, grew out of an idea that Minnesota clothing executive Bob Emfield roughed out on a yellow legal pad with a colleague.
Starting with a character description of an island guy who never had to go back to work, they built the brand into a $500 million business that gave aspiring, paunchy, middle-aged American dudes the thumbs-up to wear a casual shirt untucked.
Emfield came up with the name, and Tommy Bahama appeared 20 years ago this month.
"It just came to me," he said. "I wanted it to have an island feel, and 'Tommy Bahama' had a nice tintinnabulation."
Emfield, a man whose tanned skin and casual attire seem at odds with his immaculately trimmed silver hair and mustache, has retired from the day-to-day details of the company. But he still sometimes attends sales meetings and remains the walking, talking, relaxing embodiment of his co-creation.
In the late '80s, Emfield and his Generra clothing associate Tony Margolis crafted their character as if they were amateur novelists — a leisurely man of casual tastes whose deceased parents left him a coconut planation, who smoked Rocky Patel cigars, drank Red Stripe, and drove a vintage Volkswagen bug convertible with water skis and casting rods in the back.
Everything from what he ate to whom he dated was written down and filed away. Just one important facet of his character was forgotten: what he wore.