Several tech CEOs wear the same things most of the time — Mark Zuckerberg used to only wear his grey T-shirts, Steve Jobs was famous for his turtleneck sweaters, and NVIDIA CEO Jensen Huang swears by his black leather jackets — but Anduril founder Palmer Luckey’s daily outfit is a lot more flashy.
The 32-year-old entrepreneur, who sold Oculus VR to Facebook for $2 billion in 2014 and now runs defense technology company Anduril Industries, has become as recognizable for his vibrant Hawaiian shirts as he is for his controversial innovations. But Luckey has revealed that his signature look isn’t a branding choice or fashion statement — it’s a tribute to his working-class roots and a reminder of how far he’s come.
“People often know I wear a lot of Hawaiian shirts. A lot of people think I chose it because I’m a fashionista or something. It’s not that,” Luckey explained. “It’s that my dad was a car salesman my whole life. My mom was a stay-at-home mom. My dad was a car salesman, and when he would work six days a week, he would wear a suit. And on his one day off, he would always wear Hawaiian shirts.”
Growing up as one of four children in a household supported by a single income, Luckey’s wardrobe consisted entirely of hand-me-downs. “As one of four children living in a home with a car salesman as the only breadwinner, I ended up wearing all of my dad’s hand-me-downs. As a result, my entire wardrobe through my teenage years was all my dad’s Hawaiian shirts.”
The pattern continued through his college years and into the early days of Oculus. “When I went off to school, it was still all my dad’s Hawaiian shirts. And then when I started Oculus, I didn’t pay myself anything and I usually slept in the office, so I still was wearing Hawaiian shirts,” he said.
After selling Oculus to Facebook for billions of dollars, Luckey attempted to update his wardrobe — only to face an unexpected backlash. “When I sold my company for billions of dollars, I tried buying different clothes and everyone gave me a hard time and said, ‘Wow, Palmer, money’s changed you.’ And so I decided I was going to keep wearing Hawaiian shirts to remember where I come from.”
Luckey’s story adds a humanizing dimension to the tech industry’s “uniform” phenomenon. While minimalist wardrobes are often framed as productivity hacks or branding exercises — Zuckerberg has said his grey T-shirts eliminate decision fatigue, and Jobs’ turtlenecks became synonymous with Apple’s design philosophy — Luckey’s Hawaiian shirts represent something more personal: a connection to family, financial struggle, and authenticity in an industry often criticized for losing touch with its roots. In an era where tech billionaires face increasing scrutiny over wealth inequality and detachment from everyday concerns, Luckey’s insistence on maintaining his unpretentious aesthetic serves as both a personal anchor and a public statement. Whether it’s a calculated move or genuine sentiment, the message is clear: even a defense tech mogul worth billions can — and perhaps should — remember the car salesman who worked six days a week to support his family.