Why I think cut-out one-piece swimsuits are ridiculous
You've seen them littering your Pinterest page. You've seen them plastered all over blogs. So you've probably thought what I've thought: "Who could wear this?"
While the cut-out "one-piece" bathing suit isn’t entirely a new trend, it’s apparently not going anywhere and someone’s got to deal with it head on. Truth be told, when I was 8 years old, I had a swimsuit like this: neon pink and green, with both sides cut out to reveal a little 8-year-old belly. And just like that, you have the only example of when I would be caught dead wearing one of these.
Besides the obvious — that the cut-outs reveal women’s danger zones — I feel like the only type of person behind these hideous designs could be a man. First, because the whole glory of having the option to go from two piece to one piece is the promise of more coverage. So don’t say "the one piece is back" and then show me a shredded piece of material that might barely cover my unmentionables.
I like to imagine the brainstorm meeting where this item was developed.
"Ok, Jenkins, what do you have?"
"Well, sir, the guys and I have been thinking... and what if we took those boring, modest one-piece swimsuits and just cut a bunch of weird designs, all willy nilly, until it sort of looked like bikini art and it’s less a one piece and more like a bikini."
"BRAVO, JENKINS, BRAVO!"
Now, in all fairness, some of them, like this Deep V Halter style, offer most of the coverage of a traditional one piece, and only reveal a pretty universal hot spot: the cleavage. I can live with that. I can maybe even put my vote behind a backless one. Maybe.
But the side cut-outs and the front cut-outs? That is like having a spotlight follow you around the beach all day to point out your least favorite body parts. Unless, that is, it’s a high front cut-out, using the ‘crop top, high-waisted bottoms rule, like this beauty. I’ll allow that.
And sure, celebrities look amazing in these (doy.) Sure, my teenage niece probably looks fine in them. But for the average woman? I cry foul.
Or at least, I cry, "Don’t call it a one-piece, you monsters."