PICTURE AUSTRALIA – Sam Hood, 1872 – 1932. BONDI
And the girl on the right, the one with her hand trailing in the sand, and her towel a modest cover, knows here that she has lost another day.
Yet she smiles at her girl friend’s success, the Polka Dot Girl, the girl with the tan – and visor, and silver band,
and all the mens’ eyes.
There is something a little sad about this. And yet when I think I about it and almost without exception, all the polka dot girls I’ve ever met have finished up in shabby circumstances. The quiet ones always seem to have really great lives later. Its as if a lack of admiring eyes has something to do with it.
Lost my heart to the Polka Dot girls a dozen times -
The Polka Dot Girl became the Crochet Bikini Girl. If you had fair skin and freckles she was always the girl you wanted to be. She glistened with Reef Tan coconut oil and could walk across burning sand without flinching. You waited for the bus. She climbed into a car full of strange guys, an arm going round her shoulder to close the door behind her. No one doubted where it would end.
indeed where did it end? An island paradise?, famous for being .. famous?, a suburban house?, waiting in line for methadone? or all these things
And sometimes they were just pretty girls, playing it up, being young, being beautiful.
Beauty doesn’t have to lead to tragedy.
She was probably telling a good story…