Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny?

I doubt there exists any item in the clothing lexicon that is more capable of singlehandedly reducing a woman to a crumpled heap of self-loathing than the innocent-sounding term “swimwear”.

The word sounds so practical, friendly almost, belying its hideous and dark potential to ruin one’s life. Not only is swimwear specifically designed, so it always seems, to make the wearer feel fat, old and past it, but it is also a nightmare that visits us on a constant basis. Every year we run the “cozzie” gauntlet – knowing and fretting that hundreds of strangers are going to see it, judge it and criticize it – and we attempt to pick out the least offensive, most covering-up thing we can find to get wet and brown in. Or in my case, red.
Each time I decide to buy new swimwear I set my radar to realistic by trying to find what my granny would have called “a proper swimming costume”. However, you simply cannot get such a thing these days unless you’re prepared to don a garment that the Queen of England might be comfortable wearing at a pool party. It appears that women with breasts and – worse – bottoms, are not expected to display themselves on the beach when high season hits.
What the range on offer indicates to me is that boobs and bums girls are also not welcome at the poolside.

At the point of sale we are gamely invited to pick up a thong. But for those of us whose flesh moves when we so much as raise an eyebrow, the thong is a definite non-starter. And that’s pretty much it. From my extensive research, most of which, I must admit, was carried out here, the merchandise seems to leapfrog from thong to old lady’s costume with handy “skirt”, which is there, supposedly, to hide those upper thigh bits. But I don’t want to wear a rah-rah skirt on a boiling hot day, so why would I get permanently attached to my swimming costume?
So I’m guessing that it must have been a bright fair-minded designer who came up with the amusingly named “tankini” to satisfy those of us who are in between.

A tankini looks as if it’s going to cover your tummy with a nice, uplifting vesty-top while giving you the option of covering your bum to your own taste, and probably that of the rest of the beach as well. You can go for a skimpyish pant if you are so minded, but I, you may have gathered, am not. Or you can opt for a large but not quite hospital-issue pair – my choice.
But what the tankini doesn’t tell you is what it is going to do when it gets wet. Last summer, newly tankini clad, I walked on to the beach confident that I was dressed appropriately yet fashionably. Minutes later I emerged from the water wearing what amounted to a skimpy bikini. Somehow my lovely tankini top had rolled itself up into a nasty bra affair, and my pants had concertinaed themselves down and up my bottom into a near thong. Very non-Ursula-Andress-like, Mr Bond, and all-in-all not a pretty sight. Definitely a Dr No-no.

However I still refuse to believe that the time has arrived for an “all in one please don’t notice me” swimsuit or, heaven forbid, the aqua-rah-rah. So in the interests of averting further shopping casualties, I hereby present a few handy hints for sales staff and management that should make the experience of buying new swimwear a whole lot more fun.

1. Try more sympathetic lighting in the changing rooms – this is not a football match in mid-winter Scandinavia.

2. Why not offer a few cocktails? Make it more of a beach experience – it could work
in your favour. I’d buy anything when I’m three sheets to the wind! And play some tropical music too – I might even salsa if I had a margarita.

3. Find a replacement for that gusset-strip thing – it’s like having an empty potato chips
packet shoved down your knickers.

4. Have some matching sarongs hanging casually around – we can use them to cover a multitude of sins and you’ll also get an extra sale or two.
And finally, here’s a tip for those of you who are beach-bound: equip yourself with some great sunglasses and an even greater beach bag. Everyone’s attention will be drawn to them, and if they’re stylish and snazzy enough, no one will even notice your bum. Don’t you agree, Lou?