Speedos not on in banks and supermarkets, even in Noosa
IF you are lucky enough to live in a resort town, as I do, then you often feel as thought you are on permanent holiday.
Weekends on the streets, in cafes and restaurants, or at the beach mixing with visitors makes you feel privileged.
This time of year, when the town bulges with flocks of welcome people and their welcome money to spend in our local businesses, is good for everyone.
The only downside is an over-abundance of skin.
People on holidays, understandably, take off as many of their city/work clothes as possible and gad about freely in next to nothing.
As for shoes, well, they come off the minute they hit town and mostly don't go back on until it's time to go home.
It's heartening to see people in shorts and singlets and bikini tops and bare feet free of the shackles of normal workaday living, enjoying the freedom.
But not in shops and post offices and banks and supermarkets and places of business.
I can't count the number of toes I've "accidentally" run over with my trolley in the supermarket at this holiday time of year.
I think that of all the places you should shod up, it is in the supermarket. Bare feet next to the fruit and veg just doesn't seem right.
I think I was scarred for life the time a few years ago when I stood in a queue at the bank with a man behind me wearing nothing but a tiny pair of Speedos.
Really. It's true.
He didn't even pull on a t-shirt over the Speedos. (An aside, isn't it scary when a bloke puts a t-shirt on and it just skims the bottom of his Speedos but you can't quite see the Speedos?
For heart-stopping moments you think he is wearing nothing under the t-shirt and you anticipate some dangling action.)
Anyway, back to my bloke in the bank with his Speedos.
It was in the days when we actually went inside a bank and lined up to speak to a person (such happy days).
This bloke kept nudging dangerously close to me every time the queue inched forward and I will never forget (or get over) the fear that the people in front of me would come to a sudden halt as the queue moved and Speedo Man would collide with my rear end.
Then there was the time I walked up the stairs to our local surf club for lunch, with a young couple in front of me straight out of the surf, soaking hair, streaming water, dripping puddles all the way up the stairs. They were surprised when the door bloke at the club asked them to go back and don something more suitable.
I do hate dress code rules in clubs and cafes ... it seems so old-fashioned and bossy ... but in a seaside town, sadly, sometimes rules are necessary.
We should cover up, even just a little, when we leave the beach or the pool and go to a place of business, don't you think?
Perhaps we should adopt the attitude of French women: juste un peu de rouge À lèvres avant de quitter la maison. Just a little lipstick before you leave the house.
(Put some clothes on too ... but always look in the mirror and freshen up just a teeny bit before you leave the house.)
Sorry if I sound like a miserable matronly killjoy.
I love to see people in our beautiful town feeling free and enjoying themselves.
All I ask it that unless your name is Hugh Jackman, please don't wear your Speedos to the supermarket.