Swim Suit Questing

This is Katherine today.  I'm pretty sure the content will make that evident soon, but in the handful of readers we have there might be somebody who might think Jim has been searching through the wilderness for swim suits.

We are headed to warm climates soon and my sit-by-the-pool-and-get-a-tan-while-sipping-on-margaritas wardrobe had died in Mexico in May of 2012.  The three identical suits suits died after four years of serious service in Mexico and Belize.

I have some really strong memories that have survived the trash bag burial of the suits.  I once spent a day alone at the Camelback Spa in Scottsdale and while I sat by the pool, a table of folks talked about how wonderful Starkey Productions had been for his business event.  Makes a mom proud.

I was hanging out at the infinity pool at Chaa Creek, my favorite resort in Belize, and I was having my very first caipirinha (a great drink) and reading a book about book restoration that took place in Florence, Italy.   We were there with Bud and Janet and between the four of us we can strike up a conversation with almost anyone.  We had a wonderful moment with the Chaa Creek owner and learned the history of the resort (it started with his wife selling homemade yogurt in the nearby village) and ended with him giving us a personal tour of his organic garden that fed the guests.  We missed the Belizian zoo to tour his garden.  It was a magnificent morning.  

I made friends with the pirate salesman who roamed around the resort pool in Puerto Vallarta.  He sold pirate bandanas that kept Jim from burning his scalp that trip (I think I bought four of them).  He wore me down and Janet and I finally agreed to go on the Pirate dinner cruise and show.  I still like the pirate bandanas.  The pirate cruise and show--not so good.

There are more memories, but that's not where this was supposed to go.

The three dead suits were originally very hard to find.  I've had a mastectomy and I lift weights.  I have a broad back on no front and I don't wear replacements (plastic surgery was not an option for me).  Swimsuits and sweaters are tough.

After a month or so of serious swim suit shopping, I found a hot pink Juicy Brand strapless one piece that looked liked a long top over a bikini bottom.  It covered my scars.  It was hot pink--that awful Juicy pink and I'm too old for that and for whatever reason I'm not wild about pink since my cancer experiences.  I don't want to define myself by cancer.

The clerk at Nordstrom told me the suit originally came in grey and turquoise (excellent choices), but they were long gone across the country.  She was right.  I tried every store the internet had as well.  That's when I learned about eBay.  It took several months, but I ended up with three of the suits in the right colors and for much better prices than the pink one I began to feel badly about leaving behind.

Since the death of the Juicy suits, I haven't needed one (NYC in April and Wyoming were not pool/ocean destinations).  NYC focused me though.  I was walking through Bloomingdale's while we were looking for a winter hat for Jim because it was pretty darn chilly and I wandered--Bloomingdales and its black and white tiles and its rich stuff all over the place is just too tempting.  I saw swimsuits and was struck with the knowledge that I was going to need one in about eight months and it was time to start looking.

I found two suits that I fell in love with instantly.  They were one piece suits with original paintings printed into the fabric.  They were high under the arms to cover my scars and the back was bare and low and my back is the best of what I've got these days.

One had a cowgirl wearing a great hat on the front in peaches and blues.  The other had a herd of horses spilling across a mesa-type setting.  They were $350 per suit.  I looked at the designer name and wandered back to knit hats and Jim.  Heavy sigh.

At the end of the summer, I began the new swimsuit quest in earnest.  I figured there would be sales too.  I looked everywhere.  There was nothing I liked that worked with my body and anything that did work made me look like the Granny I am.  Phooey on that.

I decided I'd try my eBay thing again.  The suit designer turned out to be from Australia (We Are Handsome) and I checked out what was available.  No more cowgirls, but a nice selection of scenery and critters.  Not as pricey there, but still beyond what I would pay.

After three months and regularly checking in, I found and purchased three suits.  No cowgirls.  No herds of horses running on mesas.  I did, however, find a roaring lion, a stallion, and a ferris wheel in my size.  I found them all in the space of a week and bought them all.

They arrived and my flat chest made the straps way too long.  I hadn't thought of that.  Next quest--swimsuit alterations.  Fortunately C. Fite sent me to a lady whose living room was punctuated by a beautiful priest's Christmas cassock that she was designing and sewing.  Anybody who can make cassocks could fix my three swim suits I figured.  Maybe God was on her side.

I picked the suits up yesterday.  They fit perfectly and I am set to go to warm and sunny places for several years.  It was a happy quest.  Happy trails to me.