Perhaps we shouldn't be too quick to laugh at Kanab for its city ordinance banning bikinis, thongs, tiny Speedo trunks and other skimpy swimwear from its public swimming pool.

We'll leave moral arguments to others, but we're willing to wade into more down-to-earth concerns. Take aesthetics, for instance. We think it's beyond debate that most men and women would be well advised to avoid a swimming outfit more revealing than overalls. Unless you're a professional athlete or a model, a tiny swimsuit is going to emphasize things you don't want to emphasize. If you don't care ... well, that's just disrespectful of your fellowman.

But isn't it strange that people will spend large sums on a wardrobe that hides their flaws and accentuates their good points, but then traipse to the local pool, get into a bikini or too-tight trunks, and let all their flaws hang out? On aesthetics alone, a fuller garment is a winner.

You can also approach this as a privacy issue. Just about everywhere else, Americans are obsessed with privacy ¬­-- everywhere but the public pool or the beach. In those places they throw privacy to the wind, literally. It's a strange paradox.

Another paradox is our attitude toward the sun. In the summer, people slather sunscreen by the gallon anytime they go outdoors, yet they'll fret that they've absorbed too much ultraviolet radiation. But then they go to the pool where they willingly expose great swathes of epidermis not only to the sun but to any number of unconsenting fellow citizens. Go figure.

In the end, of course -- and regardless of the benefits of covering up -- the big question is how any government body thinks it could ever enforce its concern for swimsuit modesty.

If a pool were to ban bikinis, for instance, how would it be decided exactly at what point an allowable two-piece suit crosses into bikini territory? It would be interesting to see how lawyers would word that.

There is the old story about a Supreme Court justice pondering a pornography case. He admitted he couldn't define pornography but said, "I know it when I see it." The difficulty is in translating what the city council sees into sound law.

For example, how does one define a bikini? And who will do the measuring? While this could pose problems for city attorneys, we're sure that an advertisement for a minimum wage "bikini cop" would yield a long line of applicants.

But other questions linger. For example, "Speedo" is a brand-name for all kinds of swimwear. Which articles would be banned and which allowed? Some of its men's styles hang down to the knee. Would those be OK? Another style covers everything from hip to ankle, but it's skin-tight. How does that fit in to a modesty law?

Speedo's women's suits are one-piece and form fitting. Would they be banned? If Kanab or another town tried to ban only men's skimpy Speedos, it wouldn't be long before someone would allege sex discrimination.

And the "D" word brings up discrimination against the poor two-piece bathing suit. It is not automatically true that all one-piece suits are morally superior their two-piece counterparts. In the eyes of some pool observers, in fact, a sleek one-piece suit -- say one with intriguing cutouts -- might be naughtier than a two-piece suit.

For those readers old enough to remember the Sixties, fashion designer Rudi Gernreich shocked the world by creating a small, one-piece bathing suit for women. It was small because it was topless. Would that have passed muster at the Kanab pool?

As with so many issues of morality and aesthetics, the law is too crude and unwieldy an instrument. These issues boil down to taste, judgment and, yes, freedom. It's not up to government to prescribe every kind of behavior. It's for individuals to work most things out.

Until the onset of the next fad, we venture to offer one piece of advice: Guys, unless you're built like an Olympic athlete and you're under age 25, leave that tiny little Speedo at home. Trust us: Everyone down at the pool will be grateful you did.

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