I had planned a whole Bettie Page thing for my beach visit on Saturday, but when the mercury shoots up to 90F (32C), one’s retro resolve withers. Hair down, sunglasses in lieu of makeup, no cone bras or garter belts. I rolled down my bikini bottoms to show off my new ink; without the high waist broadcasting my vintage cred, I looked like every other girl on the beach. And sometimes that’s exactly what you need.
Truth be told, I’ve never been a 24/7 vintage girl anyway. My more dedicated counterparts wear pin curls to the gym and silk stockings to bed. I admire them for it, but my loungewear is decidedly loungewear. I wear petticoats to the grocery store, but the minute I’m home, it’s novelty slippers and my boyfriend’s Eagle Scout t-shirt. Gotta turn off the panopticon sometimes.