When I moved to Los Angeles from Ohio, I knew things would be different.
I was trading in the extreme of every season for year-round sunshine, friends for strangers and corn fields for palm trees. One thing I hadn't fully thought out, however, was how my new sun-drenched life would affect me sartorially.
In my first year, sweaters became the only outerwear I needed. I discovered sandals were almost always acceptable. I delicately chipped away at my clothing until what remained was simple but thoroughly me (a.k.a. plenty of T-shirts and jeans). I embodied Cali-casual…but, apparently, not when it came to swimsuits.
It wasn't until a girls' trip to Palm Springs that I realized there was something I'd somehow missed. My girlfriends' suitcases were stuffed with bikinis. It was as if they'd swim in one and magically emerge from the water in a completely different suit.
"I think I brought, like, 20," one of them proclaimed.
Twenty? I only brought two.
West Coast women have what is intimidatingly referred to as a "bathing suit wardrobe." Yes, wardrobe—that thing you spend years culling and developing as your tastes, body and income changes. They have bikinis for summer, spring, Memorial Day, Fourth of July; one-pieces for photos, themed parties and actual swimming. They have cover-ups to match and body chains to accessorize. And what did I have? Again, just two bikinis.
I first found what color bikini works well with my skin tone when I was 14 and I've stuck to it ever since (anything in the neon-orangey-pink family). Shape-wise, triangle tops and simple string bottoms are the most comfortable. I thought once you figured out those two things, you are pretty much set.
"You are always in a pink bikini!" a friend pointed out to me that summer. Apparently, I was not set.
Over the course of the past year, I've made purchases in an effort to expand my bikini wardrobe. Purchases include (but are not limited to): a blue paisley triangle top and matching string bottom; pink, strappy push-up monstrosity from Victoria's Secret; palm-print triangle top with matching string bottom; white triangle top with hot pink string bottom. The few times I've worn each of these, I've feared a nip slip and/or been weighed down by heavy padding and therefore eschewed swimming altogether.
What I'm saying is that for me, the bathing suit wardrobe is bullshit. What's the point of a swimsuit if you can't actually swim in it? Aside from that, a bathing suit is no different from anything else in your actual wardrobe. If you're not comfortable in it and it's not your style, it doesn't belong there. Just like you can usually find me in a white T-shirt and denim, you can find me in a hot-pink, triangle bikini because that is what works for me. I'm never going to be the girl who can pull off complicated straps or a cut-out one-piece like Emily Ratajkowski.
Above all, personal style wins, even if it's a little repetitive. I'd rather have one bikini I absolutely love and wear it to death than drawers full of bikinis that don't feel like me and never see the light of day or the salt of the ocean. Being half naked in front of people is challenging enough—there is no need to add to the stress.
Or maybe that's just my Midwest sensibility.