Swimwear On Parade
Text & photos by Shannon Kelley
For most women I know, myself included, the idea of parading
oneself down a catwalk, under a spotlight, music pumping, capacity
crowd fixated upon thee, strutting thy stuff in high heels and a
bikini, is about as appealing as — oh, I don’t know — gnawing off
one’s own arm. Perhaps that’s overstating, but the very idea ranks
right up there with that universal nightmare of arriving to work
late — and buck naked. Luckily for the crew that gathered at El
Paseo restaurant one recent Thursday night, not everyone shares my
For the second year in a row, local
surfboard-maker-cum-bikini-designer Jason Feist has done what any
business-savvy, bikini-loving guy would do: He’s rented out a huge
space and staged an outrageous party to promote his latest “Feisty”
designs, displayed to perfection on some of the most bikini-ready
bods in town.
I arrived a little late, but with a strong support system in
tow, and while the one guy I was with happily forked over his
cover, my ladies and I skipped inside to find the place packed.
Feist had told me to meet him upstairs in the VIP area, but the
bouncer seemed unimpressed with my story. Undeterred, I settled in
on the steps with a beer and watched the amazing graffiti artist
Taz Roc go to town on the backdrop. Eventually, I heard someone
say, “There’s Jason,” introduced myself, and was led upstairs —
much to the bouncer’s chagrin.
Upstairs, we took in the scene below, chatted with Feist — one
of the nicest guys you’ll ever hope to meet — and other
friends-of-Feist, and waited for the show to get rolling. I spent
some time strategizing where the best spot might be for me to get
my shots, and, noticing the testosterone-amped throng clamoring
around the edges of the catwalk, figured that hanging out backstage
might be my best bet. And, in my opinion, the best peeping was not
of the ladies, but of the crowd that ogled them, jaws on the floor,
eyes unblinking, as though they were looking at God Herself.
Finally, the show began, and those ladies rocked their suits
with the confidence of supermodels. My thoughts began to wander:
Even with all the suit changes, nary a tan line or wedgie did I
spot — spray tans? Double-stick tape? … Ooh, that one’s cute, I
wonder if he carries petite sizes. … I came back to reality in time
for the finale, which featured all of the ladies sporting amazing
white bikinis that our friend Taz Roc had stylishly tagged earlier
in the evening.
The party raged on after the show, and eventually, I made my way
home. That night, I dreamed I was late for the SATs, which I took
while wearing my bikini.
Where will your peeps be? Email firstname.lastname@example.org.