In 2019, I was at Lake Winnipesaukee and my left strap just… gave up. I was standing on the dock, holding a lukewarm seltzer, and suddenly I felt a sharp ping—the kind of sound a guitar string makes when it snaps—and my dignity followed shortly thereafter. I spent the rest of the afternoon clutching a damp beach towel to my chest like a Victorian orphan. It was humiliating. But more than that, it was expensive. That suit cost me ninety bucks and lasted exactly three swims.
Finding the best swimsuit brands plus size women actually like is a nightmare of broken promises and thin spandex. I’m not a stylist. I’m just a woman who works a desk job, writes this blog when I should be sleeping, and is tired of being lied to by Instagram ads featuring size 12 models labeled as “ultra-curvy.” I’ve spent roughly $1,440 on swimwear over the last three years, and I’ve learned some things the hard way.
The “Grandma” brand that actually works
I know people will disagree with me here, but I’ve become a complete Lands’ End apologist. I used to think they were just for suburban moms who love monogrammed tote bags, but I was completely wrong. I’ve bought the same Tugless Tank six times now. I don’t care if it looks like something a middle school gym teacher would wear to a pool party. It stays put.
What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. It’s not that the suit is particularly “fashion-forward,” it’s that the construction is industrial grade. I actually tracked the elastic degradation on my last one; it took 42 chlorine submersions in a public YMCA pool before I noticed any sagging in the rear. Most “trendy” brands start to get that weird, crunchy texture after five. If you want to actually swim, buy Lands’ End.
Also, a weirdly specific take: I’m convinced that navy blue is actually only a slimming color if the sun is at a 45-degree angle. I might be wrong about this, but I stand by it. Every time I wear a navy suit in the shade, I feel like a giant bruise. Stick to black or a loud floral. There is no middle ground.
Why I’m officially done with Summersalt
This is the part where the corporate editors would probably tell me to be “constructive,” but I’m just going to say it: Summersalt is a disaster for anyone over a size 18. I know, I know. Every influencer you follow says the “Sidestroke” is the holy grail. It’s not. It’s a torture device designed by someone who has never seen a human breast in person.
I tried the Sidestroke in a size 22. The compression was so intense I felt like I was being vacuum-sealed for a long-distance flight. There is zero shelf bra support. None. If you have any kind of weight on your chest, you’ll end up with what I call the “uniboob shelf,” where everything just migrates south and stays there. I measured the leg opening on their size 22 versus a Target size 22, and the Summersalt one was 3.4 inches narrower. Who is that for? Not me. Total garbage.
I refuse to buy anything from Eloquii anymore either, mostly because their website font gives me a headache and I find their ruffles offensive. I know that’s petty. I don’t care.
The expensive mistake and the surprise winner
Let’s talk about Alpine Butterfly. Their suits are gorgeous. They look like something a forest nymph would wear to a rave. But the price is insulting. I paid $128 for a bikini top—just the top!—and the underwire felt like a rusted garden fence poking into my ribs after two hours. It’s the kind of brand you buy when you want to take one really good photo for the grid and then immediately change into a t-shirt. I’m over it. I’m too old to be poked by metal for the sake of an aesthetic.
Anyway, I digress. Speaking of raves, did I ever mention the time I tried to wear a sequined suit to a foam party in 2012? No? Let’s keep it that way. The chafing was… biblical.
On the flip side, I changed my mind about Torrid. I used to think they were too “mall goth,” but their wire-free swim tops are actually engineered remarkably well. I tested 4 different wire-free brands last summer, and Torrid was the only one where I didn’t feel like I was going to fall out the bottom if I sneezed. Their fabric is like a thick, supportive hug, unlike the cheap stuff from Shein that feels like a sad, wet tortilla.
- Lands’ End: For actual swimming and longevity.
- Torrid: For when you want to look cute but also need to hold the girls up.
- Swimsuits For All: Only if you buy the GabiFresh collections; the rest is hit or miss.
The part nobody talks about
The real issue isn’t just the brands; it’s the lying. We’ve replaced the “heroin chic” models of the 90s with “perfectly proportioned” plus models who have flat stomachs and size 2 faces. It makes the rest of us feel like we’re doing plus-size “wrong.” I’ve realized that no swimsuit is going to make me look like I don’t have back fat. Because I do have back fat. It’s there. It’s part of the package.
I’ve spent so much time looking for the “perfect” brand that I forgot the point of the suit is just to get in the water. I still hate my upper arms. I still get nervous when I have to walk from the lounge chair to the snack bar without a cover-up. But I’ve decided that a $60 suit that stays up is better than a $200 suit that makes me want to cry in a dressing room.
Do I have a favorite? Maybe the Lands’ End one, despite the “math teacher” vibes. It’s reliable. And at my age, reliability is sexier than a one-shoulder strap that’s destined to snap.
Is it even possible to feel 100% confident in a swimsuit? I honestly don’t know the answer to that. I think anyone who says they do is probably selling something. But I’ll take 70% confidence and a strap that doesn’t break. That’s enough for me.
Buy the Lands’ End Tugless. Just do it.
