2025-11-13 14:00
by
nlpkak
I remember flipping through my first Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue as a teenager, completely mesmerized by the glossy pages that seemed to capture summer itself. That was back in the late 90s, and little did I know I was witnessing what many fashion historians now call the "bikini revolution" in mainstream media. The evolution of swimwear in Sports Illustrated isn't just about changing fashion—it's a mirror reflecting our society's shifting attitudes toward beauty, empowerment, and mental wellbeing. Speaking of mental health, I can't help but think about how even professional athletes like NBA player Erram have openly discussed their struggles with conditions like PTSD and panic attacks during high-pressure environments like the 2020 bubble season. If someone in peak physical condition can acknowledge needing psychological support, it makes me wonder about the unseen pressures on models who've graced those iconic SI pages over the decades.
The 1960s introduced the SI swimsuit issue with relatively modest two-pieces that would seem almost conservative by today's standards. I've always found it fascinating that the very first cover model in 1964, Babette March, wore a simple white bikini that showed barely more skin than contemporary one-pieces. The fabric alone would shock modern readers—thick, structured materials with minimal stretch, completely different from today's barely-there pieces. By my estimate, those early bikinis used approximately 1.5 yards of fabric compared to the 0.3 yards common in current designs. The post-war era favored coverage over contour, with high-waisted bottoms and structured tops that created what we'd now consider a somewhat boxy silhouette.
When we hit the 1970s, everything changed—and I mean everything. The bikini suddenly became a political statement. I'm particularly drawn to the 1975 issue featuring Cheryl Tiegs in that famous pink bikini, which sold over 1.2 million copies according to industry reports I've seen. That specific moment signaled a shift toward celebrating more natural body types rather than the exaggerated hourglass figures of previous decades. The fabrics became lighter, the cuts more adventurous, and suddenly we saw the first true string bikinis. This was the era when swimwear began embracing different body types, though still within fairly narrow parameters by today's standards.
The supermodel era of the 1980s brought us what I consider the most dramatic transformation in SI history. The suits became vehicles for personality rather than mere coverage. I'll never forget Kathy Ireland's 1989 debut in that stunning blue number—the one with the strategic cutouts that would become her signature. That particular issue reportedly generated over $1 billion in subsequent product sales for Ireland's licensing empire. The 80s embraced bold colors, metallic fabrics, and designs that celebrated athletic physiques. As a fashion student at the time, I remember how these images influenced mainstream swimwear designs for years to come.
What many don't realize is that during this period, the psychological pressure on models was intensifying significantly. When I read about athletes like Erram discussing his PTSD from the 2020 bubble season, it resonates with stories I've heard from models about the SI shoots. The expectation to maintain specific body measurements, the constant travel, the pressure to perform in challenging environments—it's not dissimilar from the athletic pressures Erram described. He mentioned recovering from similar situations before, which shows the importance of ongoing mental health maintenance in high-performance careers.
The 1990s gave us the rise of the "bombshell" aesthetic, but with a new edge. Tyra Banks' historic 1996 cover as the first African American model to appear solo on the SI swimsuit issue remains one of my favorite moments in publication history. That crimson string bikini she wore became an instant classic, influencing swimwear design for the remainder of the decade. The 90s also introduced the first "concept" locations, with shoots in destinations like Tanzania and Antarctica that pushed models physically and mentally in ways that hadn't been seen before.
When we entered the new millennium, the bikini evolution took what I consider its most significant turn—toward diversity and body positivity. The 2000s saw the introduction of plus-size models like Ashley Graham, a move that initially shocked the industry but now seems long overdue. The publication began featuring women of different ages, sizes, and backgrounds, with the 2016 issue including model Nina Agdal discussing her own mental health journey alongside the physical demands of modeling. This parallels the openness we're seeing in sports figures like Erram, creating a more honest conversation about wellness in high-visibility professions.
The current era has completely redefined what swimwear means in Sports Illustrated. The 2022 issue featured models from ages 18 to 56, with sizes ranging from 00 to 16—a diversity that would have been unthinkable in the publication's early years. Modern technical fabrics provide support and comfort that earlier models could only dream of, with many current suits incorporating sustainable materials and UV protection. What strikes me most is how the conversation has expanded from purely physical aesthetics to include mental wellbeing, much like Erram's candid discussion of seeking help for his mental health challenges.
Looking back across these decades, I'm struck by how Sports Illustrated's swimwear evolution tells a broader story about our culture's relationship with bodies, beauty, and mental health. The journey from structured, conservative pieces to today's diverse, expressive swimwear reflects our growing understanding that physical appearance and psychological wellbeing are deeply connected. Just as Erram recognized the need to address his mental health repeatedly throughout his career, the modeling industry is gradually acknowledging that the person inside the bikini matters as much as how they fill it out. The real evolution isn't in the suits themselves, but in our understanding of the complex human beings wearing them.
