As promised to my friend Monica and thank to an involuntary request from my other friend Carson, I’m going to make a myth crumble.
Earlier this month, we were talking about those fully lined wrinkly conglomerate of useless quantity of lycra we defined American full bottom bikinis. And how they only look good on the skinny, tall and photoshopped models (or Marilyn Monroe) and in reality they are the quintessence of unappealing.
But then again, it just might be a question of non-North American mentality: the bikini has to be minimal, not vulgar, but barely there, cause the less intrusive surface of tan lines, sensual, attractive, funky, little accessories (they hurt you and come in your way when laying down), maybe coordinated with a sheer pareo, useful. Yes, useful, in the sense that when you are hit by a crashing wave the lining doesn’t become a bag full of sand.
So. All of the above might be a question of anthropological descent. We don’t like full bottom bikinis as well Americans think that men on speedos are ridiculous. They are mata pasion (passion killer), as my friend Patlo would say.
I have done a little exercise to dispute the thesis.
What’s wrong with this picture? I can’t seem to find any element of ridiculousness.
Besides: Giona (the one in blue) is a great adored fabulous DJ friend and this was taken on a glorious and beloved beach in Tuscany.
But look who I found vacationing in Ibiza.
77 years old Giorgio (the master in command of timeless elegance) hanging out with an unidentified species of hunk with a variation of speedo even more difficult to wear and pull off. Chapeau.
Fabulosity in speedo displayed and concluded. I hope we are all “my home Country sick” like Monica says and you enjoyed the tour.