Bikini Baby
When I was young, my mother taught me that a bikini is an accessory.
My mother, a Jones Beach native, adores the ocean. My mother grew up in Nassau County, Long Island. Her mother, my Nana, forced my young mother and her brother Willy to do swim lessons in the ocean when they were kids. They came from a 3rd generation Italian household and my Nana worked late nights at the local hospital. My mother was mostly raised by her Grandmother Madeleine, who had elegant Catholic-school-taught penmanship and kept her recipes in a yellow tin box.
My mother fell in love with the ocean. I’m sure her swim lessons helped. As a teenager she hung out in the Jones beach lot and was a parking attendant during their Amphitheatre concerts so she could see them for free.
And to this day, she will tell me “Allegra, always wear a bathing suit underneath your clothes in case.”
Growing up, I never really knew that this “in case” was. It became confusing when at age 9 (under my Mother’s creative control) I was dressed like so:
And while I can’t hate the player nor the game (see the Carrie stylistic homage below). I do remember being very confused as to why I needed to match my brothers and wear board shorts to Epcot while meeting Lisa Simpson.
Well reader, suffice to say that I now fully see my mother’s vision. And it has never been more crystal clear than these past 5 years.
For it is these days, in our New York City heat, that I am more than ever before reaching for a bikini to polish off my outfit. Now I’m not re-inventing the wheel here. Long before our internet algorithms, the swimsuit split in two and the Youthquakers of the 60s with a little help from Mr. Space Age Courrèges cemented the bikini into our culture’s eye.
I think to this book I found ironically at the Frankie’s Bikinis store 2 years ago. The Bikini Book, published by Assouline in 2006, is filled with so many epic bikini and swimsuit historic images. We have my own personal icon Marisa Berenson clad in her coconut PVC perfection. We have 60s bug goggles to frame the perfect Cole of California suit. We have Miss Beverly Johnson herself lounging poolside in a divine two piece. So on and so forth.
The bikini is an accessory. Miuccia Prada knows this better than anyone. See her Spring Summer 1992 runway with Karen Mulder Clad in Cote d’Azur red stripes gallivanting with an amazing volumized do.
Or the stunning mother of pearl ensemble. Both outfits which inspired my 2 eBay bikini purchases below as result.
In my youth, it was the Woodbury Commons outlet mall and Roxy, PacSun and Zumiez. My older brother once owned a pair of Reef flip flops that had a bottle opener on the bottom. My mom always bought me epic pink and brown bikinis and loved anything with a plumeria or tropical flower on it.
New York summers would hit and me and my brothers would be set off like vibrating tops into the parking lot of Rye Playland, Splish Splash water park, or some other theme park. We found our way through adolescence in these twisting rides with our board shorts on. We grew to understand our worlds through play and activity. And at least for me, I needed my bikini on to do so.
When I moved to LA in 2017 I was stoked to be in the sun. But it wasn’t until my last year at school that I truly “found my beach”. That beach being Escondido. Escondido beach is a beautiful remarkably public beach in a semi-private area just about 600 feet down the PCH road from Geoffrey’s. It’s framed by magenta bougainvillea and there is usually parking on the shoulder.
I started to keep a car bikini in the middle compartment of my Toyota Rav4 for my visits to Escondido. My mom’s words echoed in my head as I would pull off the I-10 and just book it to the Pacific Coast Highway for an impromptu beach dip.
Day not going great? Classes giving me grief? Early 20’s existential dread? Throw the car bikini on and go for a dip. Because why not and because, as mom’s voice said, just in case.
And these were my cases, late teenage escapes into the adventurous California world that my bikini on the go provided me. In my bikinis I could sweat and not be afraid, I could walk a hidden path that might require some elbow grease, I could get sand in the gray seats of my Rav. I could show myself that I could. I could tell myself it would be okay. Because in my bikini I am at home in the world.
Recently I received some messages from friends that they are wearing their bikinis underneath summer clothes too. It filled me with glee.
And now back in New York, I have just finished packing for a summer trip. I am traveling to Italy to enjoy some rocky beaches and explore an island with my old friend based off the Elena Ferrante novels. We both have our bikinis packed and ready. I am excited to experience new terrain. I can’t wait to use the grippy water shoes I ordered both of us to walk on steep rocks for the best beach exploring.
I carry the 9 year old Allegra in board shorts too. I hope to honor her swag still. I will wear my bikini underneath my clothes like my mom says. I will keep my spirit alive through play. I will sweat on this trip and not care because the bikini is moisture wicking anyway. And because I am happy, here in my bikini, on a trip with my good friend who I love so much.