In the sweetest of Meleana Estes’ memories, two things are ever-present — her tutu and the extraordinary lei she made. Raised in the quaint town of Kilauea, Estes longed for school breaks when she traded Kaua‘i’s red dirt for O‘ahu’s concrete jungle. Her tutu, Amelia Ana Kaopua Bailey, was a prominent Native Hawaiian lei maker who lived just outside of the city in lush Manoa, where her property was every bit beautiful as it was sentimental. Estes remembers the white pua male flowers lining the driveway, the scent of half a dozen puakenikeni trees filling the air, and Tutu greeting her with armsful of colorful lei.

For the holidays, Bailey would catch the 20-something-minute flight over the channel with her lei materials packed away so every woman sat at the dinner table would be adorned in flowers. And, when Estes’ paddling team won the state championships, sure enough, everyone had a celebratory lei in the victory photos.

“A friend of mine from college recently said, ‘I still remember the herds of you walking into the Boston College graduation with haku lei on your head.’ My tutu came and made 14 lei for my 14 best friends,” Estes says with astonishment. “Now that I’ve become a lei maker … I’m like, ‘Holy moly, how did she do that?”

It was how Bailey showed aloha, Estes says. From foraging, picking and preparing flowers and foliage to the assembly and artistry of it all, lei making is nothing shy of a laborious act of love.

When Bailey passed away to tend to the flower gardens in the sky, Estes felt called to continue her legacy to ensure this craft — and the joy felt when it’s shared — will never be lost.

“I think naturally I jumped into it,” she says. “I guess it’s just in me. It’s in my sister and my cousins. If someone doesn’t make haku lei, they string puakenikeni beautifully, or they take care of the trees beautifully. It’s something we all have in us just from being blessed from this in our lives.”

It’s been a decade since Estes held her first workshop, which she only did as a favor for a friend. Since then, the Honolulu resident has been a force in the lei-making world, despite disputing that she’s “no master lei maker,” and has played a revered role in introducing the centuries-long custom to new generations.

Though, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Estes, who has a knack for fusing what’s modern with what’s traditional. She has a keen sense of style and air of sophistication about her — like how she wears vintage mu‘umu‘u with flair and recently launched a Hawaiian heirloom bracelet collection with her lifelong friend, Noel Shaw. (Check out hiehawaii.com for more information.)

Estes’ essence — her love of lei-making, natural storytelling abilities and artistic eye, to list a few — come together in Lei Aloha, a book that honors the vibrant flowers and lei of Hawai‘i, debuting on April 25.

“I think lei has had a resurgence and … I think a lot of people started celebrating it more,” says Estes. “I wanted something to capture all of this beauty because it’s such huge part of our culture and it runs so deep in so many ways.”

To properly research for the book, Estes spoke with some of Hawai‘i’s treasured lei makers. “What has to be noted is how many wonderful people helped me (write this), who I got to sit with, spend time with and hear their knowledge and stories. It helped bring this book to life. I feel so blessed that people opened up their homes and hearts. It’s the most touching thing in the world.”

In Lei Aloha, don’t expect to find step-by-step instructions, but rather pages full of the rich history of flowers, lei and island traditions — all the ways these intricate garlands, ranging from plumeria lei to haku, are used for celebrations, like, in Estes’ case, dinners surrounded by loved ones, canoe races and graduations.

“I hope (readers) open this book and feel all the joy in the pages, lei and people,” says Estes, who can be found at @meleana_hawaii on Instagram. “I feel like I was merely a vehicle to show it all. I don’t consider it my book; I want it to feel like Hawai‘i’s book.”