There was a time when a woman appearing on a public beach in a bikini could cause quite a stir. Today, nobody gives it much thought. Bikini bottoms have become smaller, waistlines have become higher, and swimsuits that would have seemed astonishing a generation ago can look almost ordinary.
But there is apparently still a line. The curious thing is that nobody agrees exactly where that line should be.
Walk onto one beach wearing a tiny thong bikini and you may attract little more than a passing glance. Walk onto another beach wearing exactly the same swimsuit and you could be told to cover up or leave. At some public swimming facilities, thong-style bottoms are specifically prohibited.
So when did a bikini become too small?
And perhaps the more interesting question is: who gets to decide?
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, is one place where local rules place limits on how much can be exposed in public. The city’s beach regulations address public nudity and exposure, meaning that there are boundaries beyond which beachwear can become a public-decency issue. Ordinary bikinis are perfectly normal, but extremely revealing swimwear can cross the line established by local regulations.
Gwinnett County, Georgia, is even more direct at its public aquatic facilities. Its pool rules specifically identify thong bikinis as inappropriate swimwear. The county permits conventional two-piece swimsuits but draws a distinction when the amount of coverage becomes substantially smaller.
That raises an interesting issue. A bikini is already designed to reveal considerably more of the body than the swimsuits women wore decades ago. Nobody seriously argues that every woman at a public pool should be wearing a full-coverage swimsuit. Society has accepted the bikini.
But if a bikini can become smaller and smaller, eventually there must be a point where the argument changes from “this is a swimsuit” to “this is inappropriate for this particular place.” Where that point falls is highly subjective.
Consider the difference between a beach at a fashionable resort and a municipal swimming pool. At the resort, adults may expect to see all kinds of swimwear. At the neighborhood pool, there may be dozens of children, parents and grandparents sharing the same space. The management may decide that a particular style doesn’t fit the atmosphere it wants to maintain.
That doesn’t necessarily make the swimsuit itself offensive. It simply means that context matters.
There is another fascinating part of this debate: attitudes toward women’s bodies have changed enormously while the basic argument hasn’t changed much at all.
The first bikinis caused outrage in many places. Today, a bikini is so ordinary that few people would even notice one. Then came high-cut bikinis, Brazilian-style bottoms, cheeky bikinis and eventually micro-bikinis that leave remarkably little fabric between the wearer and traditional notions of nudity.
Every time fashion moves in that direction, someone predicts that society has finally reached the limit. And then the limit moves. That is probably why arguments about tiny swimsuits are so persistent. Fashion keeps testing the boundary, while communities keep deciding whether they want to move the boundary with it.
Carolina Beach, North Carolina, offers an especially interesting example. In 2019, the town removed the word “buttocks” from its public-nudity ordinance. The change effectively removed the basis for treating thong bathing suits as prohibited under that particular provision.
In other words, one community decided that something another community considered inappropriate did not need to be prohibited. That tells us something important about the debate. There isn’t necessarily a universal standard for what constitutes an acceptable swimsuit. There are cultural standards, community standards and personal standards—and they don’t always agree.
A woman might choose a tiny bikini because she likes the way it looks. Another might choose it because she wants an even tan. Someone else might simply enjoy pushing fashion a little further. None of those reasons necessarily tell us anything about her character. At the same time, someone who prefers more coverage isn’t necessarily prudish. She may simply have a different idea about what belongs in a public setting.
The disagreement becomes particularly interesting when the swimsuit is deliberately designed to attract attention. That is where fashion and personal expression begin to overlap. Most clothing communicates something. A business suit says one thing. A little black dress says something else. A bathing suit isn’t exempt from that. The smaller and more unusual the swimsuit becomes, the more likely people are to notice it.
Does that mean the wearer is trying to make a statement?
Sometimes. Does it mean she should be judged for making that statement? That’s a different question.
And perhaps that is what makes tiny bikinis such an unexpectedly good subject for conversation. They aren’t really about fabric. They’re about changing ideas of modesty, freedom, fashion and public behavior. How much skin is acceptable in public?
Should the rules be different for beaches and public swimming pools?
Should a woman be able to wear whatever swimsuit she wants as long as she isn’t actually nude?
Does a family-friendly environment justify stricter dress rules?
And perhaps the question that will generate the most disagreement: If a swimsuit technically covers everything that must be covered, should anyone else get to decide that it is still too revealing?
There is no universal answer. Fashion will continue to shrink the swimsuit, and communities will continue to decide where they want to draw their own lines. Some will embrace the change. Others will resist it.
The fascinating part isn’t that people disagree. It’s that the argument keeps moving. Yesterday’s shocking swimsuit becomes today’s ordinary bikini. Today’s daring micro-bikini may eventually become tomorrow’s normal beachwear.
Until, of course, someone designs something even smaller.
