What I learned working in a bikini store

I have been a store manager for a high-end bikini store in Sydney for about a year now. I have worked in stores in every end of the city, in concession stands in department stores on behalf of the brand, and hosted VIP nights. I have probably sold a couple of thousand swimsuits, and have trained what feels like most of the North Shore.

I was lucky enough to be raised by a single father who only commented on my body to tell me how strong it was, or that there was nothing wrong with me whenever I complained about it. I grew up in the country, where it wasn’t about how you looked but what you could do, and how fast you could do it. Of course I knew girls and women who were upset by how they looked, and it’s not like I feel 100% confident every day of the week, but was always confused by people who would not wear certain things for fear of showing the tiniest hint of cellulite, or sagging breasts, or stretch marks. Dad always told me that women were allowed to look like women, and if someone had had two children they were allowed to look like they had. I’ve since repeated that in many change rooms and it is amazing the response I will get. Sometimes I get laughter, sometimes a sigh, and more often than you'd think, a tear.

It is amazing to me the things that can be “wrong” with a person. When I was being trained on fitting someone in a swimsuit, I had to find a bikini for a staff member who had to accommodate broad shoulders, a large cup size, a thick waist, and short legs. I looked at this girl who was one of the more gorgeous people I had seen in my life, approximately a size 6-8 (Australian sizing), who had beautiful dark hair and a huge smile, and appeared to me to be perfectly in proportion. Since then I have had to help women try and combat things like “fat thighs”, “awful bingo wings”, “fat underarms” (which, by the way, is breast tissue, and everyone has it), “saggy boobs that look like two fried eggs”, “the worlds biggest tummy”, an “alien belly button”, and lots and lots of the dreaded cellulite. Fun fact, it is actually more common to have cellulite than it is to have breast tissue (98% vs 92% of the female population). 

The largest proportion of these women were between 30-50,and more often than not, married or with a partner, and with children. Foolishly, I might have assumed that women who were married had husbands with similar outlooks to my Dad, who was a happy camper if he got to see both of my mother’s breasts at the same time, and would never dream of coming into a changing room to give criticism on something as personal as a swimsuit. The comments I have heard from partners and husbands range from the innocent-sounding “that one doesn’t do much for your stomach”, through to full blown “No, you look fat in that one, what about a one piece?”. The look of shame in that last woman’s eyes stays with me as I write this, and I hope either he sorts himself out or she leaves him. She was a lovely lady who had an 18 month old son.

I want to hasten to add that there is quite a difference between the husbands who come in to say “babe that green one looks great, get that one! The others just aren’t as good”, and the above comments. Of course if you are married and need support, you’d call in your best friend till-death-do-us-part for reinforcement, and many are such good souls it gives you faith in relationships again.  The sad part is that the aforementioned comments are more common than you would ever think, and have twisted my heart on more occasions than I can count. 

The most reliably cruel person, however, isn’t the partner. It’s the mother. I will try to write this paragraph in as calm a manner as I can, though I am angry instantly to think about it. I have no children, and am in no position to tell anyone how to parent, but it seems to me that taking a daughter to buy a swimsuit and marching up to a complete stranger (me) and saying “look, we’re needing a one piece for my daughter, she’s got really big boobs and a tummy and we can’t find anything to fit her and cover her up, you know?” is a less than ideal way to go about it. The cruelty however normally goes down worst in the change room. “Your boobs are way too small for that darling they look like pancakes”, “you’ve got your mothers legs unfortunately, but what can you do”, “no look this is never going to work, you’re spilling out all over the place”, “how long have you had all these stretch marks?”, all the way through to “let’s just go. Maybe you can just wear a t-shirt and shorts in the water”. The frustrating part in all of it, apart from having to stand there and smile blindly while watching this young (and sometimes not so young) women learn how to hate their bodies, is being shut out and unable to help. I can hear that she’s not fitting her E cup breasts into a small triangle bikini top (shocker), but when I ask what’s happening and if they’re having any success, it’s a muffled “yes fine thanks”, and then more language that I don’t think is intended to, but still has the effect of, teaching their daughter exactly what to hate about their body, and therefore themselves. Many of us girls have watched mothers and daughters leave angry and upset and said sadly to each other “they wouldn’t let me help them”, and needed a couple of minutes to feel happy and bubbly again to continue with our shift.

Of course there are heart-warming moments in most days. There is the lady who hasn’t worn a bikini in 11 years who leaves with 3 ready for her holiday with her new partner (you go girl!). There’s the lady with a large cup size who finally finds a swimsuit that looks cute and gives the support she needs, who is so overwhelmed she gives you a huge hug for helping her and goes home to write a compliment to head office. And there’s the husband who comes back with his wife and the extremely low cut, sexy swimsuit he bought for her saying “she looks so good in it but she wants to be more covered up”, and when he leaves her to choose something else with me she laughs and says “I’ve had three children and put on 20kg since we were married and he still thinks I’m the sexiest thing ever”. 

I mean, I guess the main thing I learned working in a bikini store is that women just want to feel supported (both in the boob area and the heart area), and that we are 100% allowed to look like women. Fried eggs, cellulite, and all.