Yikes. As with all life’s uncomplicated pleasures — eating, sex, drinking — going on holiday somewhere hot has just got that bit more complicated.
Never mind the bikini-fit body, we are all now expected to have perfectly planned beach wardrobes, right down to the personalised LL Bean tote and two kinds of sunglasses.
It is normal (according to American Vogue) to change three, four times a day on holiday, and that’s not counting the evening wear options.
(Who knows what prompts these changes, maybe variations in the light? Maybe you leave a book in the room and then, when you get to the room, you think, oh God, how am I going to wear all these terry-towelling Victoria’s Secret playsuits? I must get on with it.)
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Meanwhile, your husband will be checking out your poolside looks and might conclude — if you aren’t working “an utterly original” Liza Bruce heavily embroidered fuchsia chiffon babydoll dress — that “you could do better”. Anyway. The woman who views two weeks in the sun as an excuse to live in a borrowed shirt, baseball cap and flip-flops is a dinosaur, and our days are numbered. We have to get organised. We must get a white bikini (“everyone needs one”). We require more than one pair of sunglasses (including “wraparound for sport”). We should have special Havaianas and not-so-special Havaianas, and Fitflops. And a navy cape in superlight wool in case it gets chilly. For a two-week trip, the secret is to plan seven day outfits and seven evening and then mix and match (Matthew Williamson mini prom frock optional). We want plenty of kaftans — with co-ordinating bikinis — and a white one by Bamford for breakfast (because it’s fresh).
Then again, you could just say stuff it. I am not married to Mark-Francis from Made in Chelsea; I am not Abbey Clancy; my female holiday companions are not a bunch of millionaires on metabolic diets with private Pilates instructors and housekeepers.
And besides, we’ve all tried to do the superchic holiday wardrobe thing, on more than one occasion, and been totally defeated. I have lugged snakeskin gladiator sandals and floaty long skirts and fitted bombshell dresses on holiday in the past and they have stayed firmly in the suitcase because, guess what, once you get to where you’re going, you are too hot to care. You can’t force your feet into the sandals, they are like chicken’s claws. The lacy dress with the underslip is literally too much effort to get on, and weirdly scratchy. Belts? Are you kidding? Dangly earrings — fffff. Shirt dress? No — buttons. Anything thicker than almost-sheer cotton feels like wearing concrete. Anything longer than short feels like a hassle. If you have to move around during the day, you want to do so at a shuffle in either the white kurta or the pale jade one — with all your exposed skin slathered in sunblock.
So here is the revised list for people like us. Several bikinis/swimsuits, ideally both. Three kurtas (two white). Shirt for swimming in. Two pull-on, possibly halterneck, dresses. One pair of rude shorts. One pair not rude. Another loose shirt. Flip-flops. Gold and silver Jesus sandals. Two pairs of earrings. One pashmina. You can fit all that in the LL Bean tote if you like.