A Long weekend at a Naturist Village in France
First of all let me say I am not a naturist and have zero interest in wandering around in the nude. Further to that, if anyone had ever told me I’d spend a weekend at a naturist village I’d have laughed at them. Me, wandering around nude with other naked strangers? No, no way, never. Well, you could say never say never, because it just so happens that I did end up spending a weekend there, having been invited by friends who are what could be called militant naturists. They live full time in one of the many naturist villages along The Med and invited us to visit for their son’s birthday (DD started school with their son and they were always firm friends until he moved away – to live in the naturist village – a few years ago. Of course, James readily accepted the invitation and confirmed yes, we’d all behappy to be nude! Easy for him to say: he’d been to a naturist campsite a few years ago and really loved the experience. For my part, I was happy to be visiting our friends and neither into or not into the idea of being nude. This post is about the experience. Will I repeat it? Read on to find out!
What is naturism?
Before heading down there I did a bit of research to try and work out its appeal. What makes someone a naturist? What do people get out of being nude all the time?
Naturism is basically the practice of being nude. Devout naturists will spend as much of their life nude as possible, with some choosing “naturist communities” to live in and others living amongst us fully clothes then stripping off once they get home.
A practice that is considered pretty nice in the UK, in France the first community was founded in Bois-Fourgon in 1903 and has over 155 naturist holiday centers, plus many official naturist beaches. Naturisme. fr reports that there are around 3.5 million naturists in France (compared to around 10 million in Germany) and that France is one of the most popular worldwide holiday destinations for naturists worldwide! According to SAGA, this practise is now gaining popularity in the UK, though the weather isn’t quite as conducive to year-round nudity as it is in the South of France.
As to the “why”, well a big part of the modern strain is driven by the body positivity movement: love the skin you’re in, and all that. It is defined on this site as:
“a lifestyle and philosophy of living in harmony with nature, emphasizing self-acceptance and respect for others through being free from clothing related societal norms.”
An approach that is hard to argue with.
But how was it for me?
The 4 Phases of my naturist experience
Part 1: Leaving the clothes behind
When I said my friends were militant naturists, I really mean that. It’s not just going to naturist beaches and enjoying swimming in the nude. It’s doing literally everything in the nude. Shopping, working on the computer, cleaning the house, cooking the dinner? Yes, all nude. We arrived and our friends came to the gate to meet us (and let us into the car park) in the nude. There was no going back.
Once in their apartment James stripped off, then DS. The boys. DD joined in and – in for a penny – me too. How is it, I was asked. Well, I’ve had two children and lord only knows how many people saw me nude during that most wretched 48 hours (combined) of my life, so how bad can it be? I have already been stripped of any last bit of dignity so…
Part 2: Off to the Pool
The main reason I was happy to just get on with it is that we were off to the pool, and the pool rules dictacte only nude people in the pool. I guess it’s to ensure that only nudists use the pool not just anyone who’s managed to wander into the nudist village (you also need a wrist band, so it’s definitely not open to all). Anyway, after waddling around (nude) to the pool we jumped in and splashed about. So far no big deal. We all had a good swim, the kids were having a great time, the sun wash shining.
Part 3: Doing everything in the nude
Back at the apartment we learned a bit about naturiste etiquette (if you need to sit somewhere, you do it on a towel) – and I think that’s pretty much the only rule to be abided by, other than to be nude. And no staring at anyone, which is actually pretty easy to do when you’re trying NOT to look at anyone and everyone. Of course not staring and not seeing aren’t actually the same thing, so I did find it quite challenging because well, I don’t usually try to not see the people I’m talking to or hanging around with.
The next 24 hours were pretty much doing stuff in the nude: we went to the beach, played croquet, and went back to the pool.
By the end of the 24 hours the whole nudity thing was starting to wear a little thin with me. DD was the first to reach for her clothes and all credit to her. I had taken comfort in my short sarong, which evolved, in the following 24 hours into, well – clothes.
Part 4: For the love of clothes…
By the second day I’d pretty much decided I could no longer stand being naked all the time. I was one of the first to wake up – alongside DD – so we got dressed (!) and headed out for a walk. We headed along the beach. I’m not sure whether it was the persistent nudity or just a general need to do something more physical than splash about in the water, but I had an urge to MOVE!
Everyone else was happy to go to the pool or the beach, messing about in the water (in the nude) but, even after my walk, the urge to move hadn’t worn off, so I decided I would take myself off for a walk whilst the others swam some more.
While I was walking a whole bunch of things were bouncing around in my head, mostly concerning all the reasons wearing clothes are quite important to me being able to do the things I like to do. Mostly that means riding my bike so here’s an example of the conversation I was having in my head as a walked (marched, really – I was quite wound up):
“If I’d done that 100km ride the other day I’ve have been cut to pieces!! Not to metion thte sunburn.”
“And if I go offroad? I need clothes to protect me. You can’t possibly ride the trails in the nude!”
That was the bike stuff. I’d also observed tennis courts, table tennis etc. at locations around the village. Great! But HOW are women supposed to do that nude? Two babies later I’d have wee running down my leg and – thanks to an old step aerobic injury – my boobs hurt like mad if they get the opportunity to jiggle around. The effect of the waves was already having an effect. They might be small but they still need bandaging down when there’s any possibility of getting jiggled about. And don’t even get me started on the bodily secreations that can come on at random times.
In conclusion…
In the cold light of day, looking back form a position of calm, I think my third day there, up until we left and then for a short time after, was basically an ambient panic attack. I didn’t want to see another nake body – ever. I’m over it now but for me being surrounded by naked people was anything but relaxing. There was no “body positivity” effect for me either: the few glimpses I (accidentally) got of my naked self filled me with horror, but then I fell out with my body about 8 years ago when pregnancy initiated it’s decline. I’m working on getting that back but I can’t do that while I’m naked, dammit!
What’s odd is that for James it had quite the opposite effect. He came back feeling liberated and, he says, more relaxed than he’s felt in a long time.
That’s not to say there wasn’t anything positive about the experience; the fact that I stripped off at all while I was there tells me I’m maybe not such a prude after all. I also “get” that it’s way more practical just to swim naked. All that fuss about covering up bits of ourselves with teeny tiny pieces of fabric does seem like a collosal waste of time and energy not to mention money. And, of course, it was nice to spend time with friends and see DD and DS get on so well with their friend, who is a really sweet boy.
The pool was nice, the place was nice, the beach was nice. The nudity was… annoying.
Given all that, will I go again? James has already arranged to go back, DD wants to see her friend again, and DS – who also loved being naked all the time – wants to try his snorkel out, so they’re all in. Me? I think I can handle a day but not three so what I see is an oportunity to let James do his thing while I stay put, get some much needed time to myself, and do mine. I’ll probably ride down to the coast to meet them and, if this weather hold up, I’ll be burnt to a crisp and more than ready for a skinny dip in the pool or the sea when I get there but I think a few swims and one day is my limit.
As for the photos, well, I don’t have any – except for these two, which took while on my fully-clothed walk. Over there are people doing stuff wearing clothes. Imagine.
Note: This trip actually took place in 2021 but it’s taken me this long to recover. Okay, joking: I’ve just been busy and had this saved as a draft for too long! However, three years on my position hasn’t changed and I have not done anything naked in public since and am happy to keep it that way.
