Thursday, July 30, 2009

Rehoboth Beach in The New Yorker

Reading Patricia Marx' article, Itsy-Bitsy Teeny-Weeny, in this week's New Yorker, was a hoot. Coming at the tail end of this article on the dangers of bathing-suit shopping, was this paragraph;
"Speaking of winners, the first known bathing-beauty competition (not counting the ones on the Minaon cave walls) took place in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, in 1880. One of the judges was Thomas Edison. First prize, which went to a young woman named Myrtle Meriwether, a trousseau."

Ahh Rehoboth Beach!?! Home of the 2 hr parking meter and parking meter maids who work, I'm positive, on commission. While the meter says two hours, the time passes by quicker in Rehoboth Beach. In celebration of another beach season, parking fines were raised. Don't get me wrong, Rehoboth is a lovely place. Women are numbered for identification purposes. You never know who you'll run into at the beach. Families are welcome here. No Beach Tags! (Take THAT New Jersey!) And, of course, Dogfish Head Brews and Eats, reason enough to make the trek. But enough of the summer-based reminiscing.

In her piece (one piece; not two), Patricia Marx demonstrates why I, for one, will hang out by my land-line and wait for a call to join her on her shopping trips treatises she is commissioned to write about twice a year for the New Yorker. When not concocting her own bon mots, she is sure to quote a quip from one of a multitude of witty co-shoppers.
Here's Cynthia Kling, who notes,
"It's essential to bring a friend when bathing-suit shopping.
One, women are too crazy to judge how they look.
Two, if you go with your mother, she'll project her neurotic body image onto you.
and, three, salespeople lie.

In the article, along with other choice observations, Ms. Marx links to this Speedo LZR Racer suit instruction guide. All I can say is that any male out there who already hesitates uncomfortably at the mere mention of Speedo will be embarassingly tested if he even thinks of donning a LZR Racer. In fact, a guy may think that the only reason the swimming times have fallen so precipitously in the last year was that the faster a race ended, the faster a LZR Racer squeezed shmo can get out of his suit.

All in all, an enjoyable trip to stores that may give one reason to blush or avert one's eyes with a guide whose tongue is perpetually deep in her cheek. I'm here, Ms. Marz, waiting for an invite on your next foray into purchase land.

Labels: ,

I'm confused: where are Mr. Biden's tattoos?
He removes them when he's NOT washing the car in front of the White House. He is a Man of the People. All kinds of the people.
Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Click for Wilmington, Delaware Forecast Locations of visitors to this page eXTReMe Tracker
follow me on Twitter