Our Family’s Swimsuits Were Designed By World-Famous Architect Frank Gehry, And Innovation Is Worth Some Discomfort
Kids, we haven’t planned a getaway in ages, and I think we deserve an escape — it’s time to squish our toes into soft sand, breathe in the salty sea air, and squeeze our spongy bodies into our razor-sharp edifices of glass, concrete, and metal.
Don’t even start with me. We’ve all been so impatient and snappish with each other, and I don’t want to hear another word. We are going on vacation. We are wearing our exclusive, ruinously expensive, inexplicably pointy Frank Gehry swimsuits. We are going to have a wonderful time, and that’s final.
Let me remind you how lucky we are. Not all families could commission swimsuits from the visionary architect behind the Bilbao Effect, revitalizing cities with his category-defying aesthetic. Not all families would, either, but look how our Gehry suits revitalize our derrieres!
He has reimagined the form a tankini can take, and when it comes to swimsuits, function is really secondary.
Do our bathing costumes occupy entire city blocks with their unwieldy, overlapping angles? Yes. Does that make it hard to swim? Maybe. Do we have to leave our minivan behind and load our luggage, ourselves, and our heavy earth-moving equipment onto a freight train? Sure, but family vacations aren’t about comfort or convenience — they’re about pulling out all the stops and being miserable together.
Don’t tell me you have to pee. Don’t tell me you’re peeing inside the suits — right now, while you’re trying them on — because you can’t take them off in time to go to the bathroom. For one thing, I warned you to lay off the Capri Sun.
Also, your suits have bathrooms, kids, and they’re magnificent, and my God, I thought I raised you better than this.
Sure, a swimsuit can be made of elastic and chlorine-resistant Spandex. But can’t it also be sixty-five feet high and topped with a prismatic pyramid? It can, Elizabeth, and yours is, so stop crying about it.