To find Marilyn Monroe’s black swimsuit, you’ve got to navigate the bumpy cobblestone streets of the Barbican in the heart of Plymouth’s pier district. My suggested route meanders past the copper-hued front entrance to Drake Circus on the Charles Cross roundabout. The architect of this magnificent design is controversial for the careful placement of the flame-like façade behind the bombed ruins of Charles Church (victim of the Lutwaffe “Plymouth Blitz” that rocked the naval base in World War II). While the “flaming abbey” may bode sacrilege, one must remember that a vast majority of Plymouthians claim resolute atheism.
As you navigate through Drake Circus (built in 2006) you may wonder if the painted, brightly-hued goblins around you designate this a real circus rather than a modern shopping mall. Alas, these “goblins” are actually the hip Plymouth youth, window-shopping. Luckily, their profuse colognes likely encourage you to bumble out the nearest exit like a clown in a mini-car.
Exit Drake Circus through the Pavilions. Walk across the Royal Parade (a major thoroughfare; there’s no Prince Harry here, unfortunately) to pass the Guildhall on your left. This hall is now used as a meeting space and it’s worth a quick stop for two reasons. One, the moldy-but-detailed replica of Plymouth during its earliest years as a township. It’s most oddly located in a half-hidden location behind the main staircase. Someone must have placed it there for safekeeping…Second, the Main Hall upstairs. It’s dark wood interior with pointed frame accents and painted folkloric glass lie suspended in a “hold-your-breath” silence interspersed with honks from the street outside. You are actually here for the ceiling, worth craning your neck upwards for. Its edges are lined with a clay images depicting some warrior in various states of trial and success. This warrior is utterly naked and very well-endowed. Watching him lift a helpless lamb is shocking, hilarious, and maybe a little inspiring.
Leave the Guildhall and continue to The Hoe. Despite the content of the latter paragraph, The Hoe is not another sexual innuendo. Etymologically, “the hoe” means “highest point.” This is where the lookout stations for maritime Plymouth were built in 1670. Widen your stride to climb the smooth grass to the Lighthouse. Feel the greenish-blue water in the wind and hear a family laughing nearby. Watch the hulking marine ships float lazily in the protected sound. Look across the bay to Mt. Edgecumbe, where the mansion of Johnny Depp’s Alice in Wonderland was filmed. Follow the roads left the boatyard. You will come to a fork in the cobble-stone road: to your right is the infamous Capn’ Jaspers Burgers. Capn’ Jaspers is an outdoor burger shack, a day-time motorbike haven and late-night drunken snack stop. Look diagonally left to see a row of posh restaurant patios. Directly left is a smaller, winding street; turn there. You will see a white arch and a chalkboard sign exclaiming that four floors of vintage await.
Marilyn’s suit is in the ground-floor antique shop in front of you. The shop is owned by a man and his younger male assistants. Wear some lipstick, girls; they’re good-looking fellows who love antiques. Feign ignorance and ask them to show you Marilyn’s cabinet (on the left). The cupboard also contains a namesake bracelet, personal letters, and other memorabilia. Your strapping aid may explain that Plymouth was one of the first oceanic cities rebuilt after World War II. Many stars who normally haunted Brighton escaped instead to Plymouth. Marilyn’s suit is another testament to the culture of Plymouth, an ocean-front city full of peculiar discoveries for those willing to dive in.
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