I arrive at the gate of the local swimming basin. With good intention to sit on a sun lounge and drink Virgin Mary cocktails (more on that another time) and swan around in the water. It’s so blasted hot. I buy my ticket for entry and saunter off to settle the sun lounge fee when I am stopped. They want to check my bag for ammunition and weapons. My friend and I dissolve into giggles. Why me? I look like I just stepped out of a 1920’s garden tea party, complete with aspic.
We find our territory on an elevated platform overlooking the basins and less than half a metre beneath the VIP zone (which appears exactly the same as our area, except there is plastic turf and fatter cushions and cedar umbrellas instead of plastic and no one else). I’m royally upset that I don’t have plastic turf and furthermore that there are no Virgin Marys, even for VIPs.
Dashing of to the change rooms, I don my togs and as I return to my chair I observe EVERY girl is in either a bikini (or a topless bikini). For years I’ve only worn bikinis. But of late, I simply love the lines of one-piece. They can look so damn spanking hot and for some reason they remind me of Sophia Loren, however I might need to eat more kartofki and probably should have emerged from a different swimming, oops, gene pool.
I feel I am the last bastion of the one-piece swimming suit. Possibly this is why I was checked for ammunition. Maybe the guy on the gate realised the power of the one-piece.
Here is a splash of beautiful pieces for you Sofiates this summer;