Bikini Story. Patrik Alac

the whole of this period, Vogue remained reactionary and conservative, going merely as far as to present a two-piece costume by Schiaparelli in which the material was lined and slightly padded, and which covered more than it left showing. The only costume that remotely resembled the bikini was the one in the Helena Rubinstein ad for sun cream. At the same time, the prestigious magazine was regrettably prepared to provide misinformation; it claimed that women in general considered the short two-piece costumes repellent. Especially loathed was the bikini, the very name of which women hated and regarded as devilish. It was not too devilish for Vogue to bring itself to print, apparently, provided it was accompanied by sharply disparaging words. The magazine went on in its peremptory fashion to state that the bikini was being altogether shunned, and expressed its relief that in time to come, when beachwear had once more turned to less provocative styles, the immoral bikini (which it had said no one was wearing) would – God be praised – be outcast once and for all.

      It was in a remarkably similar spirit, during the summer of 1948, that the magazine reported that formal evening wear was beginning to relax and show a bit more skin. In an unexpected reversal of status, the bikini – that swimsuit reduced to no more than two scraps of cloth – was now beginning to claim the modesty that until this time belonged to the evening dress, while the evening dress, in revenge, was wilfully giving up its virtue.

      The “two scraps of cloth” cliché suggesting immorally insufficient cover for parts of the body with sexual connotations very plainly demonstrates the magazine’s opinion of Réard’s creation.

      It was the end of 1950 before Vogue started to print regular features on beachwear fashion. Reports might then in considerable detail inform readers, for example, of beach cloaks and ponchos, illustrated with models by Rochas, Dior, and Schiaparelli.

      In the same year, a new feature entitled “The Joys of Sunshine” appeared, and showed all kinds of summer costumes – even if the subheading “The joys of the water” then depicted outfits for going sailing in rather more imaginative swimming costumes.

      Sport was something Vogue was always advising women to enjoy – in moderation. Sport – exercise for young people that may initially be strenuous, before years of discretion are reached and activities are better regulated, until they finally become no more than a strict health-routine – is one of the secrets of beauty.

      The tone of a matriarch’s solemnly wise counsel is all too evident. Yet the cotton manufacturers had better reason to be unhappy at the bikini’s success. The arrival of synthetic materials, and particularly nylon – of which the bikini had immediately been made – constituted a real threat to the cotton industry. That industry now felt obliged to widely advertise the advantages of cotton, and specifically for swimming costumes. It was cheap to use, it required and responded to artistry, it was light, and it retained heat when in the water.

      In parallel, the advantages of a one-piece costume were contrasted with more revealing swimsuits. It was certainly more practical to swim in than a bikini – and to illustrate this, the same publication featured the extraordinary “Harakiri costume”, a one-piece creation by Calixte for Marguerite Monsenergue. It was a costume that had a wide slot at the level of the stomach: once in the water, the swimmer could pull a slide across, therefore opening the costume and facilitating movement. The opening, which looked rather like a shark’s mouth in the middle of the costume, strikes us as ludicrous today.

      But all these efforts of resistance on the part of groups in the fashion world who never accepted Réard, nonetheless contributed to a significant change in fashion itself.

      With the introduction of Dior’s New Look, the diversity of materials became an essential trait of contemporary fashion after years of wartime restrictions and scarcity. “We had just endured a period of war”, Christian Dior would later write, “a period of uniforms, and of women in those uniforms which gave them all uniformly the shape of prize-fighters. I used to dream of women delicate as flowers, with slender shoulders, their necklines low and cut with the fine curves of lianas, their skirts flared wide like the petals of flowers.”

      Réard’s reductionist concept, which had corresponded so well with the notions of freedom, suddenly became no more than the product of its era, unattached to current trends. For the guardians of morals in the fashion world, such a fate for it was indeed welcome.

      Réard and his creation were thus relegated to the shadows.

      In 1965 Réard dreamed up an even briefer costume than the bikini: the sexy-bikini, precursor of the Rio-style thong.

Atomic Inspiration

      In the beginning, on July 1, 1946, the atomic tests on the Bikini Atoll were reported in just one single French newspaper. The scientific correspondents in the testing area wrote down all the details of everything they saw but, on running out of what they believed to be of general interest, they did not hesitate to exaggerate on details. The paper France Soir thus spent several days discussing the fate of the animals exposed to the atomic blast – pigs, mice, and goats. On July 2, banner headlines announced that the mice placed well within the mushroom-shaped cloud had triumphantly survived the experience. July 3’s headlines read “PIGS ALL OK!” But in the same edition a few pages further and under a heading in very small type, an article mentioned that the state of health of the mice was now deteriorating – their hair was falling out and they were turning yellow. On July 3, readers in Paris learned that another sort of bomb had gone off – American movie star Rita Hayworth, in her latest film, was “emanating the torrid heat of an atomic explosion”. Miss Hayworth at this time did not yet truly qualify as a “sex bomb” herself but was attributed explosive qualities on account of wearing a single-piece costume that accentuated her curvaceous form, hyperbolically described somewhere as “the most perfectly powerful weapon of war since Creation.” Two days after the real atomic explosion, the Americans sent two marine artists by air to the scene to depict its “torrid heat.” Various newspapers took to printing in question-and-answer form what selected celebrities said they would have done if the Bikini bomb had destroyed the world. Environmental experts meanwhile informed readers of how the Coral Sea and the islands (and the scientific establishment) would take on an “atomic architecture” following the blast at Bikini. It was in this frenzied atmosphere that Réard found the inspiration that was to lead him to christen his two-piece swimsuits that generated scandal. The initial presentation of the costume was planned with meticulous foresight. Réard sponsored a prize at the Molitor Pool for “the most beautiful girl-swimmer.” A brief photo-report in the France Soir of July 2 no doubt confirmed him in his intentions. Its evening edition reported on a fashion parade that had taken place in mid-air on a Paris-New York flight. Stewardesses with shapely legs had promenaded up and down the central aisle under the stupefied gaze of the passengers. Then came July 5. It was a day on which there was genuinely “torrid heat,” for the temperature was 35 °C (96°F) in the shade. Everything conspired to scribe Réard’s bikini on the collective conscious once and for all – tremendous heat imaginably as an echo of the atomic explosion, exotic sands, and the seductive silhouette of a native girl with long legs, bronzing her skin between the sun and the sea. The legend of the bikini was born.

      From Scandal to Scandal

      The American movie actress Rita Hayworth (1918–1987) sunbathing on the grass in a two-piece costume and shoes, (detail).

      Carole Lombard (1908–1942) sunbathing on a chaise lounge during the 1930s. She is wearing shoes with her one-piece costume. The American movie actress was tragically killed when the aircraft in which she was a passenger crashed into a mountainside near Las Vegas. Before becoming one of the best-known movie stars in America, she was one of Mack Sennett’s celebrated “bathing beauties”. Later, she played a leading role in Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be (1942).

      For the first few years after World War II the revolutionary concept introduced by Réard did not achieve the success that was to come to him in following decades. In the well-known – even hackneyed – phrase,