I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
July 27, 2010
>This post originally appeared on HerNashville.com.
When it comes to tacky, few towns can compete with Myrtle Beach.
The main drag of the coastal South Carolina city is a redneck’s paradise of henna tattoo parlors, dirty arcades, gum-covered sidewalks, Ripley’s Believe It or Not attractions, body piercers, hair wrappers, and trashy t-shirt shops. Last week, my family visited Garden City Beach, which is about 15 minutes from Myrtle Beach. I grew up visiting Myrtle Beach and I knew my family had to see it for themselves to believe it.
I also knew I had found the perfect Style Dare.
I would find the tackiest beach wear Myrtle Beach had to offer, and I would wear it out in public.
There were lots of possibilities. Would I go for the neon green ripped, cropped t-shirt that let the world know I was at the MB for Senior Week? I passed that option by, worried at my advanced age of 35 that people would assume I meant Senior Citizens week, as opposed to High School Senior Week.
Or maybe I could rock the skimpy beach dress trimmed in Corona bottles.
I really wanted to get cornrows. They may have gone out of fashion right along with Bo Derek in the outside world, but judging by the bikini top-clad shoppers that surrounded me in the Myrtle Beach boutiques, they were still hot, hot hot here. Unfortunately, it was 98 degrees in the shade that day, and I couldn’t put my family through the agony of sweltering on the sidewalk for a half hour while I got my hair did.
So I turned to the t-shirt racks.
At last, after perusing the racks of several different stores, I came upon something so supremely tacky that I had to read it three times to make sure I was seeing what I thought I saw.
You know, ladies, I’ve done a lot of things for this column, but this? This was going too far, even for me.
Fortunately, it took only a few more minutes of searching for me to find it- the piece de resistance of tacky beachwear. When I pulled it from the rack, my family gasped in mingled admiration and horror…
“I love it!” my 6-year-old daughter squealed. And the die was cast.
The next morning, I put on my new outfit and headed for the beach. My children danced merrily around me, thrilled by my newfound fashion sense. My husband walked a safe distance from all of us- I have no idea why, because ladies, I looked awesome, if I do say so myself. Want to see?
For the first time since I was a teenager, my milkshake brought all the boys to the yard. And honestly, the rear view was even better.
Who needs a Booty Pop when you can have this?
My children were particularly interested in this side of my new outfit. My six-year-old daughter maintained that there was “something wrong” with the back, although she couldn’t articulate exactly what it was. My three-year-old son merely giggled with delight. “Mommy!” he chortled, “Your bubbies are hanging out in the back!”
Worried about receiving dirty looks from other parents, not to mention possible arrest by the fashion police, I ripped off my new outfit soon after the photos were taken. But rest assured I’ve saved my new cover-up for future occasions. I have a feeling it’ll come in handy for something. I’m just not quite sure yet what that something will be.
Style Dare? Complete.
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