MY O.C.
When the BBQs start, you need the right RED for the food, company, weather, budget and occasion. Come see us! Celebrate the USA all month with some outstanding wines from Napa, Sonoma, the Central Coast & more.
250 Ogle Street • Costa Mesa 949.650.8463 • hitimewine.net locally owned and family operated since 1957
70 ORA NGE C O AST • July 2021
fit and print that screamed “summer!” The matching coverup was key, though hardly ever used. Until school dismissal in June, creating a base for the upcoming seasonal tan by spending every spare moment bagging rays was essential. Ours was a painstaking process that precluded anything other than the bare minimum homework assignment; it required full concentration, a wide assortment of sun-attractant products, and precise timing to avoid the burn while building the bronze. By the time I turned 19, the fashion had further evolved, replacing shoulder straps with a mere string to be tied around the neck. I fancied myself in love at the time, so naturally I sought out the most romantic swimming outfit. John was an avid body surfer who taught me how to navigate the waves sans rubber raft. His mother snapped a photograph of us hand in hand on the sand—there we stood in the shimmering sunshine, tall and tan and young and lovely, I in my new brilliant yellow bikini. It all came crashing down, however, the afternoon I realized he was not, after all, the one with whom I would share endless summers. We were barreling a tube ride at Newport Beach when a spectacularly aggressive shore break ripped away the skinny string securing the two skimpy triangles that formed my top. As it washed ashore while I lay face down gargling salt water between earnest pleas for rescue, he teasingly hesitated to return it to me. Very funny. Like Brian Hyland sang about the girl in the 1960 hit song featuring the itsybitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini, I was “afraid to come out of the water.” It was my boyfriend’s chivalrous best friend who took pity, scooped up the essential habiliment, skillfully fought the formidable current until up to his shoulders in white water, and on tiptoe and at arm’s length, tossed it to me; he’s the one I should have been dating.
