Hello, my name is Anna and I’m a bikini-holic. What’s more, I am far from the only fiftysomething I know who is. My friends and family of similar vintage are bikini wearers pretty much to a woman. And we have got decades in us yet — Helen Mirren is still slaying in one at 78.
One of the biggest fashion fallacies out there is that bikinis are for the young; that they are a phenomenon you age out of. And I am not saying this as some kind of age-agnostic statement of bravado, nor because I am not subject to all the usual droops and disappointments that come as the decades pass.
Bikinis are just easier. Easier to buy. Easier to wear. Or the right bikini is at least (more on this in a minute). Every few years I set out to buy a one-piece, because I really do rather like that whole Busby Berkeley vibe. The problem is I am different sizes on my top and bottom half, and I am also long in the body. So first there’s the hopeful phase, then there’s the hopeless phase, with nothing in between bar the feeling next to my skin of overstretched and/or saggy polyamide. The fact that both these infelicities can coexist is emblematic of a search in which I am forever the doomed Lancelot rather than the conquering Galahad.
Sure, the advent of the world wide web has proved something of a game-changer during my lifetime, but up there for me when it comes to technological advances has to be the genesis of a bikini that is expertly engineered but doesn’t look as if it is. Well into my 20s, itsy-bitsy was pretty much the only way to go if you were bikini shopping in this country. You had to go to Italy or Spain for more forgiving options. Every time my summer holiday comes around I give thanks for the degree to which this has changed.
What makes me especially happy is that big pants are now easy to find and styled so as to channel Marilyn Monroe as opposed to 1950s PE knickers. I don’t want anything below my belly button showing thanks to an abdominal scar, but that’s just me. Plenty of women my age rock what might be called medium pants, and one friend — a mother of three, incidentally — still wears pants of a dimension last seen in a 1980s hair removal advert. Props to her.
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My favourite brand by some margin is Marysia, which is incredibly expensive, yet works out in terms of price per wear, in that I have now had mine for about 15 years. I love the scalloped edges. I love the posh textured stretch crepe. I love the fact that some of the pieces are reversible, so you get two different colours for your (admittedly considerable) buck. I love the fit of both the Santa Monica big pants and the sporty Palm Springs top, and that they are now available in recycled fabrics (£198 and £237 respectively, net-a-porter.com). I keep an eye out online for when anything is reduced. But we now have options, praise be, such as the White Company’s dark grey (£35 each for the top and bottoms, thewhitecompany.com) or John Lewis’s green and white spots (£30 and £18, johnlewis.com). Now all we need is a summer.
Anna Murphy
‘I reckon four or five bikinis is about right for a week’s holiday’
by Hilary Rose
Look, I’m ridiculous. Nobody in this country needs nine bikinis, least of all someone who spends a vanishingly small amount of time on a beach. But when I do go on holiday, I want choices. I don’t want to wear the same bikini every day, any more than I want to wear the same outfit every night, or indeed the same underwear. I reckon four or five bikinis is about right for a week’s holiday, and the same amount of beach cover-ups, because having to wear a coral cover-up over a green bikini would annoy me.
My bikinis are all the same style — not because I’m boring (although I am) but because I’m woefully top heavy. I simply haven’t found any other styles that suit, so I wish you joy from your triangle, strapless and bandeau styles. I look at the minimalist Eres swimwear that fashionable people pop up every summer to say they swear by, and I can’t tell you how much I wish I could join them. Instead, my bikinis are all minimally underwired and non-seamed (because I hate bikini tops that look like bras), halter neck for extra hoist, and the bottoms are briefs. Normal briefs, not high leg or — god forbid — string. I have no truck with big bikini bottoms, because people who think they’re hiding a multitude of sins are kidding themselves. The sins are still there, just with a layer of fabric over the top.
My bikinis are all by Heidi Klein or Elizabeth Hurley Beach and, unlike the rest of my wardrobe, which is mostly navy blue, they’re colourful: coral, green, turquoise, pale blue. Some are printed, but not enough, since I’ve decided printed is more flattering on my regrettable boobs than block colour. I cried when my cream and brown coral-print bikini died, but rejoice that I still have the matching cover-up.
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The bikinis live and travel in their own little zip-up plastic pouches. This means I can have a swim minutes before I have to leave the hotel, then chuck my wet swimwear in my suitcase for the flight home. I always take a Davy J one-piece for swimming, because I take swimming very seriously and a halter-neck bikini would quickly be around my ankles.
I’ve got half a dozen kaftans and cover-ups too, because one is a) never enough and b) unhygienic. They’re all printy and colourful, except the one that’s white, and a size too big, because the last thing you need when you’re hot and sandy is a tight cover-up. I think from memory — I’m in the office so I can’t check — they’re mostly Heidi Klein, but I know there’s a very old, very beautiful Tallulah & Hope silk kaftan in there too.
So buy a bikini and wear your body with pride. Consider holding your stomach in too.
‘Everyone looks good in a bikini, whatever their age or girth’
by Lesley Thomas
I have nothing against a good swimsuit. I wear one once or twice a week, all year round. Give or take July and August, my very basic M&S cossie is accessorised with black neoprene booties and matching gloves. In the very cold months a giant woolly bobble hat is added. As you may gather, swimming in UK waters is no place for serving looks as far as I am concerned — unless hot menopausal girlie is a thing. And I don’t mean the hot kind of hot.
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A Mediterranean beach is a different matter. I am packing for Greece soon and there is no way a swimsuit will make the cut. Everyone looks good in a bikini, whatever their age or girth. I feel the same way about red lipstick; it’s a question of finding the right one. I want to feel the sun and warm sea on as many skin inches as possible. Swimsuits get in the way. And if you’re of the opinion that a woman can be too old for a bikini, I must tell you that a) you’re wrong, and b) young people look better in everything, including swimsuits, so wear what you want.
I pack at least three bikinis for a holiday — one for each of my holiday physiques. There’s only one matching set, a lime green Heidi Klein that has been with me since 2018. It’s my poshest one and is somehow “containing” while giving the appearance of being flimsy. A halterneck with scalloped edges such as this can look quite relaxed, but in reality there’s a whole lot of bosom-hoicking going on. It’s better than an actual bra. The bottoms — apparently controversially in midlife — are side-tied and a little bit low. In fairness, this bikini does not look great after a good lunch. Call me a victim of internalised misogyny, but I usually step up the Pilates before a beach holiday, so I may only feel super-comfortable exposing so much belly for the first couple of days. I love a breakfast buffet and can’t compromise on this.
The other two bikinis are, in truth, four separate tops and bottoms because being too matchy makes me feel a bit icky after a while. H&M has great cup-sized bikini tops so there are a couple of those in the case — leopard or striped. There’s a Ganni navy and white check bottom: pretty yet sturdy, which is always the goal, and this brand can be relied upon in this respect. Then there’s always a big, high-waisted retro bottom. The thing to note about this style is that it’s easier to wear if the leg is cut a little bit high. Big-pant bikinis can cinch the waist a bit — which can be useful by day five. But honestly, by this time I am so relaxed I don’t really care.
… and here’s the Gen Z favourite!
by Hannah Rogers
Ten years ago it was Triangl neoprene bikinis that the Instagram set loved. Then Hunza G came along and made crinkly one-size-fits-all cossies cool. But this summer there is a new trendy brand all my friends want to buy swimmies from. Have you heard of Away That Day?
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Chances are you have been in the presence of one of its signature Palma bikini tops (£95, awaythatday.com). The British label — founded in 2019 by Ingemae Kotze, a former stylist — has sold more than 20,000 of the tie-back style, which is identifiable by its plunging neckline separated in the middle by U-shaped hardware.
I have one; so do most of my friends — and I have spotted it in one of its ten shades on every recent holiday. At a pool party last summer another guest and I even turned up in the same colour (sapphire blue, if you are asking) and yes, we both had the £59 matching high-rise Maui bottoms.
Away That Day is not cheap. But you don’t need me to remind you that swimwear shouldn’t be. You don’t want it to fall apart. When I ask friends what they love about their ATD pieces, they all shout out the quality and expensive feel of the eco-friendly fabric. Most are made from ECONYL, aka regenerated nylon.
But here’s the big point. The Palma seems to look good on everyone. Really: the fit of this bikini is so flattering on many women I know — all of whom are a different shape and size — I have started to compare it to the magic jeans shared between pals in Ann Brashares’s tweenage novel.
How? It helps that it runs from a size XS (UK 6; A-B cup) to 3XL (UK 18; F-FF cup). But there is something clever in that U-shape. It strikes a perfect balance of supportive and sexy, by this 31-year-old’s standards, anyway.
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“We meticulously tested the fit on multiple cup sizes and across many different body shapes to get it just right,” Kotze tells me, adding that her priority when designing the Palma was “achieving an impeccable fit and ultimate comfort’’.
A fellow DD-cup colleague and I agree that it offers ample lift. Another contemporary explains that it’s a nice mix of “classy and itsy-bitsy”. As for the bottoms, you can pick your fighter in regard to bum coverage on the bottom. Now, are you cheeky, medium or modest?
