MaureenDempsey.me
Today I saw a spring breaker in a wetsuit – without shoes – at the deli counter when I was selecting my hummus. His friend was wearing jorts. Jean shorts barely looked good the first time around, back when spring break was still held in Daytona (and way before they had the moniker jorts).
When they say “beach casual,” this isn’t what they mean.
When Spring Break hits, I try to avoid the beach, or at least the areas where our future leaders are riding around (wasted, no less) on rented scooters. But sometimes, that’s not possible. Today was one of those days.
I was heading to a class and my route took me into the mayhem. Throngs of spring breakers were walking on the shoulders of the sidewalk-less road with no apparent direction. Though there was no sand or water in sight, many were wearing only their swimsuits.
I will try to put this as tactfully as possible. This is a generation that grew up on partially hydrogenated everything and even their activity was done inside on a computer (Wii tennis, anyone?). So cover-ups really shouldn’t be left up in the room. Continue reading
On the way to the dentist last week I saw a couple of college-aged girls wearing fanny packs.
Fanny packs.
Now, I’ve been seeing Saved By the Bell-era fashion slowly creeping its way into the mainstream over the last year or two (like high-wasted shorts and baggy neon tank tops), but fanny packs?! Those were questionable even in their heyday. I remember my brother making fun of my purple one (that matched my slap bracelet…which I casually stored in my Caboodle, BTW). Continue reading
How did we become the hosts for the heinously tacky bike rally, Thunder Beach? Wasn’t that Daytona’s shtick? They seem to be shedding all of their mistakes and we are snatching them up one after another. Case in point: spring break.
Come on Panama City, can we not actively pursue the seedy side of life?
You know how American’s often put Canadian flags on their backpacks when they travel abroad because they don’t want people to know where they’re from? That’s how I feel about Panama City sometimes. Continue reading