Hooshing It Up
As a aboriginal California girl who has spent most of her adult life living within a mile or two of the shore, I flatter myself that I know from beachwear. The exemplar West Coast water equal -- unchanged in the nearly 50 years since the Littoral Boys had their first hit -- is simple. You poverty a swimsuit, board shorts, a tank top (to exhibit into shops and diners on the way to or from the beach), a set of two of flip-flops, and maybe a sweatshirt scarcely in case. Stuff a beach towel, some sunscreen, and the car keys into a backpack, tuck a tandem of Ray-Ban Wayfarers into your sunstreaked hair (Vuarnet cat-eyes are also tolerable, and make the statement that you ski when you're not surfing -- mine were radiant red), don't forget the tatami mat to keep the sand out of your towel, and you're right to go.
Surfer girls
Marinated in a beach cultivation that defined the very notion of "casual chic," I've always been moderately confused by the fashion catalogs that regularly arrive in my mailbox. The summer editions always incorporate a swimsuit issue that displays a extraordinary kind of beachwear entirely.
In these catalogs, splendidly made-up women lounge by pools in line for line coordinated outfits that include at least seven sublimely-matched items:
1. Swimsuit
2. Wrapper-up of some sort
3. Hat
4. Sandals
5. Jewelry -- chunky earrings with equivalent bracelet and/or necklace
6. Tote bag
7. Sunglasses -- plotter sunglasses on one's head are the modern tiara that crowns women of America's later classes
8. (for bonus points only) Towel
...


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