Fun In The Sun

Hi, everybody!  I had a swell time with the houseguests but it’s great to be back blogging again.

…And just like that, it’s the middle of summer.  It will be gone before we know it (sigh) so time for this post.

Presenting the history of my life through…

The Bathing Suit.

Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?

Here’s yours truly about age two, I’m guessing, in Chicago.  We hadn’t made our move to the ‘burbs yet.  And believe it or not, I know what I’m looking at here.  It was a dog at the beach.  I was beyond fascinated with dogs.

Fashion Critique?  A big thumbs up.  I dig the little sun visor, the polka dots and the bathing suit straps cross-crossed tied in front.  I would certainly wear this ensemble in Palm Beach any time.

Now here I am around five on the beach during my St. Tropez phase.

Again with the polka dots!  Do I sense a fashion theme here?

Fast forward to me age twelve.  I went to sleep-away summer camp and although I know that I packed a few suits, I wore the same blue tank suit every single day.

Brrr. I can still feel its cold clamminess as I struggled and wriggled like an eel to put it on each morning.  For no matter how long it hung in the sun to dry on the line outside our cabin, the suit was always icy cold and spine-tinglingly damp from hanging out every night.

Well good bye to summer camp and hello high school.  Now I was set to hit Glencoe Beach and Green Acres Country Club in a modest- but rockin’- two piece.

I’m fourteen here and this suit was pink and white.  Note the plunging neckline! Very daring for a prude like me.

Just one look at this photo and I can still smell the Bain Du Soleil.

But now it’s 1977 and I need something different in the way of a bathing attire.

Real different.

As in a maternity bathing suit.  I was expecting what turned out to be Natasha and we were headed to a beach somewhere around my seventh month.  I went to Saks in Old Orchard and I must have tried on twenty suits to get the right look and finally…

Voilà!

As if!  Oh, heck no!

I looked so bad in every maternity bathing suit that I finally settled on something the same general size, shape and color of this.

Yes, a circus tent.  With me as The Fat Lady.  It didn’t really matter what the suit looked like, however.  When the vacay time came around, I was too chicken to wear it out on a public beach any way.

By the summer of 1980 however, I had gotten my figure back after Nick was born in April. And I had a cholecystectomy in July.  I now looked good enough for a two piece again but the gall bladder op scar was still very much in evidence.

Hail the era of Gottex.

    

Here’s my version.  I was cuh-razy about about these animal prints.

(Btw, That’s the great John Fischl- the kids’ swim coach.  He made Natasha a good little diver and Nick always tried to follow in her footsteps.)

Five Alarm Sidebar: In 1986, painters torching off the old paint set our house on fire. A BIG fire. When I got the call telling me that the house was burning, I happened to be in a bathing suit.  Since the smoke damage made all our clothes unwearable, I had to evacuate the premises the next day wearing only the bathing suit I was wearing when I got the S.O.S. and a cover up loaned to me by my sister-in-law.

A few days later, as we headed down to the Ritz-Carlton, I was probably wearing the same get-up.

These days my go-to suits are a white bikini.

Sorry, no modeling.  This is an “Eyes Only” bathing suit opportunity.

And a navy blue one piece.

As for the next bathing suit chapter, I have seen the future and it’s called Miami Beach Gothic Granny.

See you there.

And don’t forget the sunblock.