Why we’re still grappling with the toxic legacy of the ‘bikini body’
For decades, women have been sold the idea that summer requires self-improvement. But behind the phrase ‘bikini body’ lies a history shaped by body shame, marketing manipulation and impossible ideals that continue to inform how we see ourselves today.
It’s clear that the notion of the ‘bikini body’ is toxic. Instead of anyone policing who meets this warped ideal, all you actually need for a bikini body – as one publication pointed out – is a bikini, and a body.
But this is not just a metaphor, there is plenty of real-life toxicity in the history, too. Bikini marketing has its roots in something much more sinister than most people realise. During the early years of the Cold War, only three years after the devastation at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the US chose a pristine string of Pacific islands as a testing site for atomic bombs. They forcibly removed the local population from land so peaceful its indigenous name, Pikinni, meant ‘coconut place’ and detonated more than 23 nuclear explosions there throughout the 1940s and 50s. It remains contaminated to this day.
It’s been suggested that the racy new swimsuit invented around the same time was deliberately named after the Pacific atoll to convey its explosive aesthetic. Whether that’s true or not, it has certainly lit a fire under beach culture.
Twenty years later in the 1960s, a weight-loss chain would coin the phrase ‘bikini body’ as a way of selling bogus diet plans. No health or lifestyle changes needed, you just paid to use Slenderella’s vibrating tables. The real scam was the idea that you needed, as the Slenderella ad called it, “High firm bust—hand span waist—trim, firm hips—slender graceful legs” just to be able to wear a two-piece swimsuit. “Summer’s wonderful fun is for those who look young,” their ad promised.
Over the subsequent sixty years, ideas about who is attractive enough to embody summer only became more aggressive. When I was growing up, the phrases “bikini body”, “summer body” and “beach ready”, were synonymous with whiteness, thinness, and body-hair removal. Growing up in Britain only raised the stakes. For a nation that spent a disproportionately long time – months – fantasising about sunny weather that would last a disproportionately short time – days – you had to be ready when the moment came. For young women, so often hypersensitive about their appearance and desperate for societal approval, it was a pressure cooker of desire, stress and body shame.
There are two reasons why it’s important to know where these ideas come from. The first is that it helps reveal how subjective they are. In the years since the ‘bikini body’ became a thing, trends have swung erratically from one extreme to the other. When my mother was growing up in the 1960s and 70s, doctors would prescribe amphetamines with abandon, simply because they said they wanted to look like Twiggy. By the time I was in my 30s, women were getting butt and breast implants to look curvier. 1970s feminists proudly showed off their hairy underarms and burned bras, whereas my generation of millennials rushed to have bikini waxes and bought Wonderbra’s for maximum cleavage. The 2010s ushered in body positivity, but the 2020s brought Ozempic which seems to have shut it down.
In the years since the ‘bikini body’ became a thing, trends have swung erratically from one extreme to the other. When my mother was growing up in the 1960s and 70s, doctors would prescribe amphetamines with abandon, simply because they said they wanted to look like Twiggy.
AFUA HIRSCH
The second reason is that understanding the history of these ideas reveals there is nothing inevitable about them. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and we have the power to shape the lens with which we behold.
My friends in Ghana laugh at my attitude to clothes shopping sometimes. Much as I’ve worked on decolonizing my body – I wrote a book on the subject in 2023 – the annoying thing about gaining or losing weight is that my clothes don’t fit the same anymore. “We get the clothes to fit our body,” one of my girlfriends in Accra always says, of her monthly trip to the local seamstress to get the latest design she has envisioned manifested. “You guys are still trying to make your bodies fit the clothes”. The irony is, summer bodies are not about fitting into clothing. My summer wardrobe is full of generously wide-leg linen trousers, floaty dresses, soft shorts and t-shirts. It’s much more forgiving than the rigid tailoring and lining in my winterwear. In summer, we really are policing the bodies inside the clothes. Whether it’s the 90s obsession with cellulite or the 2020s obsession with Pilates, there is always some unattainable goal.
I’m biased because I’m a Gemini, and summer is my season to shine. But it does seem like a cruel irony that the time we are sold the greatest discomfort about our bodies, is the time when we could enjoy them the most. Next time I’m tempted to sculpt my abs for the bikini or take an inch off my thighs for the shorts, I might spare a thought for the Bikini Islands, or the equally ill-fated Slenderella – they ended up getting pursued for tax evasion. The real summer body is not the one that celebrates nuclear destruction or fraudulent vibrating tables, but chooses long days filled with light, and the softness of breeze on our skin.
“I’m excited to bump shoulders with my fans”: Joined by a swarm of loyal followers, Latto takes over London “I’m excited to bump shoulders with my fans”: Joined by a swarm of loyal followers, Latto takes over London
“I’m excited to bump shoulders with my fans”: Joined by a swarm of loyal followers, Latto takes over London
Aitch on making a Netflix documentary, scaling Africa’s highest mountain and Down’s Syndrome awareness Aitch on making a Netflix documentary, scaling Africa’s highest mountain and Down’s Syndrome awareness
Aitch on making a Netflix documentary, scaling Africa’s highest mountain and Down’s Syndrome awareness
“Alienation, loneliness and ostracization:” Multidisciplinary artist Imran Perretta’s work is thrilling, powerful and important “Alienation, loneliness and ostracization:” Multidisciplinary artist Imran Perretta’s work is thrilling, powerful and important
“Alienation, loneliness and ostracization:” Multidisciplinary artist Imran Perretta’s work is thrilling, powerful and important
“The most direct way to engage people would be to put them in the paintings”: Michael Armitage on his exhibition at Palazzo Grassi “The most direct way to engage people would be to put them in the paintings”: Michael Armitage on his exhibition at Palazzo Grassi
“The most direct way to engage people would be to put them in the paintings”: Michael Armitage on his exhibition at Palazzo Grassi
From Arsenal to Bayern Munich: Inside photographer Louis Bever’s football shirt collection From Arsenal to Bayern Munich: Inside photographer Louis Bever’s football shirt collection
From Arsenal to Bayern Munich: Inside photographer Louis Bever’s football shirt collection
“My work — our work — has only just begun”: Del LaGrace Volcano takes us on a tour of their extensive photographic history “My work — our work — has only just begun”: Del LaGrace Volcano takes us on a tour of their extensive photographic history
“My work — our work — has only just begun”: Del LaGrace Volcano takes us on a tour of their extensive photographic history
“A lot of it was about acceptance”: Syd steps fully into her self on third solo album Beard “A lot of it was about acceptance”: Syd steps fully into her self on third solo album Beard
“A lot of it was about acceptance”: Syd steps fully into her self on third solo album Beard
Finn Wolfhard on being his own boss and how Stranger Things influenced his sophomore album Finn Wolfhard on being his own boss and how Stranger Things influenced his sophomore album
