What Price Perfection: Bathing Suit Shopping, Round Two

In honor of the fact that today feels like June at last, I walked a long way to meet Mike for lunch. Then, on my way back, emboldened by my very first Shake Shack burger, I decided to give the whole buying-a-bathing-suit thing another whirl and dropped in to see Iris on Atlantic Avenue.

“Hello, darling!” she said.

“Hi, Iris,” I said. “I need something that will not make me feel like I want to kill myself.”

“No problem. One piece or two?”

“One, please. Is anything on sale?”

She gestured dismissively toward the wall at last year’s gaudy bikinis, which had the decency to look ashamed of themselves, and then piled me high with new, full-price swimsuits. The very first one I tried on, a royal blue Karla Colletto, was perfect. It was also $260.

I tried on some more. The cheapest one that looked good was a Freya for $90, which I would have thought was a good price for a bathing suit. Compared to the others, though, it felt insubstantial. Also it was the most straightforwardly “sexy” of the bunch, like a tipsy bachelorette party guest wearing a feather boa and eating penis-shaped cookies. I’m not really a boa-and-novelty-cookies kind of gal.

Over $200 for a bathing suit, though? One bathing suit, and it doesn’t apply sunblock for you or tell you it’s time to turn over or watch out for that rip tide or anything? Could I countenance it?

An evil voice whispered at me that I could bid Iris adieu and look up the suits I liked online to see if I could find them for cheaper; but where would that leave Iris? And where would that leave me the next time I needed Iris? No: I am a grown-ass woman and I can pay grown-ass-woman prices for a good bathing suit. Besides, I’ve been stressing myself out working several extra side-project gigs lately and have gotten the paychecks to prove it. This full-retail bathing suit could be my wife bonus to myself.

But which one? The choice came down to either that first Colletto royal blue or a black PrimaDonna. They were both equally splurgealicious so I couldn’t choose based on price. In a way, that was freeing.

There was another woman in the store trying on bras with the help of another saleslady. At one point she took out her phone and Iris chided her gently: “No texting, darling.”

The woman laughed and tucked her phone away. “You’re right, I should concentrate.”

“Exactly.”

The woman liked the black one better on me. So did the other saleslady and so did Iris. I thought the royal blue was more flattering, which is to say, it made me look slightly thinner. But I didn’t want to necessarily succumb to what a good friend of mine once called “the tyranny of the flattering.” Must we always choose that which makes us look the smallest?

Royal blue has more personality as a color, though! It’s bolder, less repressive than black. “Yes,” said Iris, “but the black is more sexy.” Demure sexy, like Caitlyn Jenner, not trying-too-hard sexy.

Since I was having trouble deciding, Iris made a decree. “Take them both home,” she said. “I won’t charge you for either one. Once you’ve made up your mind, later this week, come back. Okay?”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m of the old school,” she said. “I know you, I trust you. It’s okay.”

That is how I ended up at home with $500 worth of swimwear in a brown bag for which I have — so far — paid nothing, and a heart brimming with love for an old-school shopkeeper, my neighborhood, and life in general.

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