Comfort is a Competitive Advantage

Robyn Voices: Marguerite Smith

Marguerite Smith is a semi-professional beach volleyball player and IP Analyst at Cleary Gottlieb, where she combines her passion for innovation with a background in engineering. A graduate of Miami University with degrees in electrical engineering and engineering management, she is deeply committed to advancing diversity in STEM and empowering the next generation of athletes and engineers.

Preparing for Competition

The night before a tournament, I pack my bag carefully. I must have my favorite Wawa hoagie to eat between matches. I pack Liquid IV, Gatorade, and more frozen water bottles than seems reasonable. A bottle of sunscreen. Stretching bands. And then the layers: running shorts, sweatpants, a tank top, a t-shirt, a long sleeve. Pieces that come off one by one as the beach warms up through the morning, until I'm down to whatever I'm actually competing in.

What's the forecast? What's the UV index? Is this a beachfront venue where the sand will be burning my feet by noon, and do I need sand socks to protect them once it does? Or is this a manmade court at a park, or an indoor warehouse facility where the temperature is controlled but the lighting is flat and strange? Does my visor match? Do I have my sunglasses in case the sand starts reflecting glare, and my hat in case it rains? And critically, does any of this work with what my partner is planning to wear?

Practice is different. For practice, I might grab whatever's clean. But tournament day has a ritual, and the ritual starts the night before.

The Old Bikini Rule

The bikini had been the norm in professional beach volleyball since the sport's debut at the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. For years, the sport's international governing body had specific rules about it (dimensions, coverage, cut) and the aesthetic was as much a part of the sport's identity as the game itself.

It wasn't until 2012 that the Olympic committee removed the requirement, opening the door for shorts and sleeved tops as alternatives. The professional tours in the US gradually followed. If you watch tournaments now, you'll see everything out there, including bikinis, yes, but also bike shorts, running shorts, leggings, and even skorts. 

Nothing about the level of play changed when the options opened up. If anything, the players I know who stopped wearing a bikini once they realized they didn't have to seem a little more at ease out on the court. In a sport decided by inches and split-second reads, the uniform shouldn’t be a thought.

So, What to Wear?

Finding a favorite bikini, if you go that route, is its own particular battle. The fit has to survive a full dive into the sand. The coverage has to hold through three hours of movement and jumping. It cannot bunch, shift, ride up, irritate, or otherwise demand any fraction of your attention during a match. Most don't pass all those tests, which is why every beach player has strong opinions about the one that does, and why some athletes have decided the search isn't worth it and opted out of the fight entirely. 

I have a mental catalog of what works for me. Virginia Beach in July, when the sand is hot enough to burn feet and the sun is coming from everywhere at once, calls for something different than an early spring tournament on manmade courts, which calls for something different again from a warehouse event where the temperature is fine but you're playing under fluorescent lights with no wind. Every layer you add and shed throughout the day has to work with whatever is underneath. Everything has to be comfortable enough to disappear.

Howdy, Partner

Beach volleyball is played as a two-person team. While nobody is handing out points for uniform coordination, there's something that feels right about stepping onto the court looking like you belong together. The “Hey, should we match our outfits?” conversation happens over text the night before most tournaments. To some it matters, and to others it doesn’t.

We train at 6am before work, on manmade courts in a DC park. We fight the mid-Atlantic summer humidity. There are bugs. There is no real beach, just sand imported into a park and four people who would rather be here than anywhere else at this hour.

On those mornings, I’m not thinking about what I'm wearing. I am thinking about my serve, my defense, whether my partner and I are communicating well enough. The gear is just gear — whatever keeps me warm until I'm not cold, whatever I can move in without thinking about it.

Play On

The conversation has shifted from what you're supposed to wear to what actually works for you. Comfort isn't a concession. On a long tournament day, when you're deep in a third set and the sand is hot and everything hurts a little, it might be the closest thing to an edge you've got.

Even if it does mean some very weird tan lines.