PORTSMOUTH — It all began with a 1960s Marwal head named Katie, bought for $2.99 at Goodwill nearly 20 years ago.

Today, there's practically no trace on the internet of the mid-century Marwal company, other than the Polynesian, Middle Eastern, Asian and black female statue heads for sale on eBay, or a message board of users recalling the now-gone chalkware business. But in the basement of an Elwyn Park neighborhood modern-style ranch, appearing to belong on a scenic cliff in California, Katie the Marwal head was the start of something kitschy and contagious. Now, it's nearly impossible to quantify or describe.

Welcome to Mon Tiki, Monica Dorley and Jen Scumaci's basement, an entirely outfitted tiki bar that has taken shape over the last 10 years with the couple's collectibles, souvenirs and relics. Immediately, descending downstairs, guests are transported to the 20th century social construct, said to be largely born out of exotic bars based in idealism, escapism and tropical travel. Mon Tiki combines the motif with vintage, retro furnishings and modern day embellishments, like a fluorescent Miller Lite sign.

Passersby on the street would have no idea of what lies below.

With roots in California in the 1930s, largely starting with the opening of Don the Beachcomber in 1934, the American "tiki" movement was later influenced by World War II, as Americans sought ways to escape the realities of war and economic hardships, and soldiers returned home from the South Pacific with stories and souvenirs. Think bamboo, rattan, rum-heavy drinks and tropical plants; housewares based in the style of Polynesian culture; "mental escapes," Scumaci said.

For tiki "purists," there's a very specific recipe for what constitutes as tiki and what doesn't. In Dorley and Scumaci's case, add a DJ booth, gnomes, pug pillows, prayer candles, and a holographic wall sign of three Hindu goddesses, bought for almost nothing at a shop in Long Island's Little India neighborhood. Their favorite feature is Scumaci's grandmother's 1930s Frigidaire, now repurposed as a kegerator. A neon green pineapple sits aglow on top of it.

"In a lot of ways, it looks like a bunch of stuff that just got thrown together, but really, we could tell you where every single thing came from," Scumaci said. "It’s a story. When we come down here, we are hanging out with all of our memories."

The couple's Portsmouth home was built in 1959. In 2009, while living there alone, Dorley wanted to throw the house a 50th birthday party. She built the basement bar the night before, and it grew from there. But Dorley still points to Katie on the shelf, now one of many Marwal heads, as the start of her tiki hobby.

"I just fell in love," Dorley said. "I started researching it, learning more about what it was."

Dorley had found refuge in "King Tiki," the bar that formerly occupied 2 Bow Street downtown. "When it closed, I said, 'I have to recreate that space that feels different,'" she said.

Fast forward several years, and Dorley, 45, is now married to Scumaci, 39, and part of their relationship is the "never ending process of acquiring" for their downstairs treasure. "We both just love doing this," Scumaci said. "This is our hobby. Coming down here, fixing things up, cleaning things."

Dorley is a graphic designer and Scumaci is known around the city by her other name; DJ Skooch. She's a popular pick to curate music for local events, restaurants and more. Dorley grew up in Portsmouth, and Scumaci is from Long Island, New York. Their creative mentalities conceived the ultimate "tiki baby."

"And it's not just tiki, either," Dorley said. "We really just like funky vintage stuff, and we had some religious stuff so we started the whole religious kitsch section."

They got their gnomes from the Coat of Arms auction when the downtown bar closed. While driving on Route 1 several years back, the pair saw two Buddha heads leaning against a telephone pole, and immediately recognized them to be from the now-closed Budha O, an Asian bistro and lounge formerly on Congress Street.

"We literally whipped the car around and put them up that night," Scumaci laughed.

Hundreds of stickers, magnets and photographs blanket the walls like a collage of the couple's experiences. There's hanging hot pepper lights, a crystal ball lustered with electrical shocks, Mexican decor accents, and a black and white checkered floor. A pug theme originates from two of their own: Emma and Mimmo, who happen to have their own Facebook page with more than 1,700 fans. Prior to the construction of the DJ booth, the idea was to create a "pug-themed wine bar." Now, it's just the wrinkled faces on couch pillows.

The repurposed refrigerator holds a special meaning. Back in the day, Scumaci's grandmother used to entertain in her basement and host dinner parties. Today, Scumaci carries on the tradition, but perhaps with a few more strobe lights.

Mostly, they host small parties for friends. Sometimes they screen a movie, or hold a karaoke night. During the holidays, they invite neighbors over for a Festivus celebration. The cops have only been called twice; once when a friend set off a firework in the driveway, and then when Dorley's birthday party featured a surprise outdoor band performance.

Other nights, the more low-key ones, the couple cooks dinner upstairs, in their sunny, open kitchen space, only to bring it into the neon-lit basement to eat alongside an island cocktail with some Latin American music.

The drinks, Scumaci said, are a big part of the Mon Tiki experience. She has the recipe for the original 1934 "Zombie" drink, and has worked to perfect it. There's an abundance of rum, from Puerto Rican to Jamaican, maybe some umbrellas, and a little green or flower garnish.

Recently, looking to connect with some other authentic tiki enthusiasts, Scumaci, on a whim, put a call out on Facebook; "Anyone else into this stuff?" "Now we have an informal Facebook page called the Seacoast Tiki Club," Dorley laughed.

It's about 20 members right now, and not for tiki fledglings with simply a hula dancer bobbing on their dashboard. One member "is obsessed with different types of rum," likely nearing a collection of 50 different bottles, dating back decades and decades.

Dorley said they want to stay small and grow underground. "Part of the essence of tiki is it's on the fringe a little, it’s not mainstream," she said.

"It's just the coolest space that we know and we want to keep making it cooler so we can keep making memories with the people we care about," Scumaci added.