Hold the Doritos: 5 Swimwear Trends to Resist
May 30, 2012 § 6 Comments
It’s an annual lesson of summertime – and we’re reminded of it at the beach, by the pool, and in dressing rooms across the country: The fact that something exists doesn’t necessarily mean it should be worn.
There’s a wide, wide, oh-so-unfortunately wide variety of styles available in swimwear. Everyone has their own opinion, and I’ve learned there are some things I like neither to wear nor to look at. To the buyers and makers of bathing suits, I hereby suggest 5 trends the world could do without:
OK, I know not everyone agrees on this, but hear me out. If I wanted to wear a medallion, I’d wear one on a chain like a normal mobster. I don’t need one sewn into the center of my suit as a cleavage-ornament. For one thing, it chafes. For another, even if you don’t have sensitive skin, think about this: do you want rust or tarnish anywhere on your body, especially on the parts covered by your bathing suit? It may be a smart marketing strategy by the designers – metal heats up in the sun, and before you know it, you’ve got a logo seared onto your skin – but when branding turns into branding, it’s going too far.
Along that same line, there’s a certain level of ornamentation that’s subtle and sensible enough for a day in the sun and water. (A nice, light pair of earrings, perhaps?) But then there are pool-jewels. We’re talking shoulder-duster earrings, big ol’ gumball-size necklaces, and bracelets halfway up the arm. First of all, don’t those get hot? Second, wouldn’t they cause some goofy-ass tan lines? Third, if you don’t want the weird tan lines, you’d have to wear sunscreen – and how do you clean all the SPF-50 slime out of your pool-jewels?
If an 11-year-old in fashion design camp came up with this, I would give her a sticker and tell her she’s super-creative. And then I would give her a cookie and send her outside for some fresh air. And then I’d accidentally spill red Gatorade all over her design and, whoops-a-daisy, also cram it down the sink and turn on the disposal.
All in favor of teeny-weeny bikinis, say aye. Aye! All not in favor of trying to have a conversation with a person while she’s wearing what appears to be a tropical-themed maxipad tied on with a shoelace, say, please GOD make it stop. There’s a line, and it’s being crossed too often. Literally. The line is horizontal and it’s your c-section scar. Bathing suit designers, I beg you, when you draw the pattern for bikini bottoms, make that triangle bigger than a Dorito. Helpful tips: 1. If any part of the actual reproductive system is visible, it’s too small. 2. If it’s the size of the tiny American-flag-on-a-toothpick stabbed into a club sandwich, it’s too small. 3. If it could double as a festive eye-patch, it’s too small.
5. SpongeBob CircleBoobs
Last week, I was about to try on a suit when I had a moment of total panic. I picked up the top and thought for a second that the woman who tried it on before me had accidentally left both of her breasts in it.
There are pads the size of teacup Chihuahuas implanted in some otherwise very cute suits. Regardless of whether you like this look (circular throw-pillows on your bosom), there’s a problem with how these suits work in action: Those big, round pads soak up more liquid than a ShamWow. So, you get out of the water; you dry off; but your cups still runneth over with ocean. There is NO delicate way to resolve this situation. You can’t wring them out without taking your top off (which I’ve learned is frowned upon at a lot of beaches because it’s not “family friendly” or whatever). And you can’t just reach up and grab your Chihuahuas and squeeze them out like kitchen sponges, because that’s horrifying for fellow beachgoers to witness. So then what? You just leave them be? You walk around totally dry except for your top, which stays soggy all day? That seems like a health hazard of some sort.
That’s right, this is health advice, too.
By the way – sorry, fellas. This is a kind of a girl-centric post. You may not even agree with it. If you’re shaking your fists to the sky in argument, hollering, “NO! I love metal hardware and padded suits and Dorito-kinis!” then I apologize. Frankly, though, it’s probably a miracle if you’re even still reading this.
If you are, you should get a medal.
(But not sewn to your bathing suit.)