Hawaii-Five-O

When my parents visited Hawaii, they returned with, unfortunately, some of the most ghastly Hawaiian shirts this side of the Pacific... which, I had thought (or maybe vainly hoped) would be a souvenir, a memento of some sort. Not so! When my father appeared wearing a turquoise (turquoise!) shirt with magenta (magenta!) orchids, blooming with bright yellow stamens like there's no tomorrow, with (non-)matching blue track pants, announcing he was going to go for a walk, I was completely flabbergasted. Had my father lost colour vision? Perhaps the macular degeneration had just been tipped over the edge? Maybe he had had a small stroke that prevented him from seeing himself? It was a horrifying, stereotypical Asian-father-mowing-the-lawn vision.
At any rate, I didn't stop him, despite the fact that my jaw was dragging along the floor of the kitchen... this does, however, perhaps explain my utter lack of fashion sense as well...