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The Guardian
4 days ago
- The Guardian
Provence laid bare: ‘I shed my clothes and found freedom on a beautiful French island'
The trail hugs every curve of the cliffside. On my left, the Mediterranean Sea swirls beside craggy rocks, while flowering plants unfurl on my right. A quarter of France's coast is lined with similar sentiers des douaniers (customs officers' paths), which were once used to patrol the sea. The difference on this trail is that I'm wearing nothing but my backpack. Off the coast of the southern French resort town of Hyères, Île du Levant is home to the only naturist community of its kind, the Domaine Naturiste d'Héliopolis. For 93 years, this rustic Eden has lured free-spirited lovers of nature and authenticity, as unabashedly naked as Adam and Eve before they ate the forbidden fruit. On every visit, I've found that when people shed their clothes, they shed their pretence. Unlike traditional naturist retreats where nudity is de rigueur, Héliopolis is peppered with clothing-optional spots. This makes it the ideal place for travellers to dip their toes into the naturist way of life. I first came to Île du Levant with my twin sister when I was 20. We had grown up in a home that was comfortable with nudity, yet a clothes-free island was unfamiliar territory. Disrobing on the hiking trail, it seemed as if we were breaking the rules. And when a pleasure boat came close to us, we felt as exposed as the rocks below. The sun soon melted our inhibitions, however. It was exhilarating to be nude in nature, each sense amplified as if our clothing had been stifling them. We instantly befriended a British couple, the awkwardness of chatting to strangers cast away with our clothes. When I returned to Héliopolis 26 years later, after moving to nearby Marseille, I was just as enchanted by its bare-it-all bonhomie, and felt worry-free as a solo female. I have returned every year since. The Fédération Française de Naturisme defines naturism as: 'A manner of living in harmony with nature, characterised by the practice of communal nudity, which consequently fosters respect for oneself, others and the environment.' The seeds were planted in late 19th‑century Germany as a social-health movement in response to dehumanising industrialisation. While certain aspects such as alfresco gymnastics and abstention from alcohol have disappeared, the crux of the philosophy – that gathering au naturel in sun-kissed nature does the body and mind good – is still its raison d'etre. One of the more unusual side‑effects of the back-to-nature trend that took hold during the Covid pandemic has been a surge in popularity of naturism in the UK, with an Ipsos poll in 2022 showing that one in seven Britons (6.75 million people) had practised it, up from 3.7 million in 2011. There is also an increased interest among young adults. A symbol of body positivity and eco-consciousness, naturism is also 'a break from the noise of the news, consumerism and other concerns that weigh on our generation', says Naomi Gergaud, a 30-year-old fourth-generation Levantine, whose grandparents used to say: 'We weren't born in knickers.' The UK's cool climate is not ideal for being in your birthday suit, however, so many Britons join northern Europeans in sunny southern France. The country is the world's leading naturist destination, welcoming 2.6 million visitors a year at naturist clubs, beaches or campsites. Or on an island, as in Héliopolis's case – though not an entire one, as 90% of Île du Levant is occupied by the French military. Over the centuries, everyone from Barbary pirates to Benedictine monks settled on the isle for its strategic, remote location. The French natural medicine doctors Gaston and André Durville put down roots on Île du Levant in 1932, fresh from founding a naturist camp called Physiopolis on Platais island in the Seine. The brothers named their Mediterranean settlement Héliopolis, after the ancient Greeks' belief in the therapeutic properties of the sun (helios). Almost a century later, Héliopolis is a trip back to those simpler times, despite being just five nautical miles from the shore. I board a passenger boat – fittingly called Amour des Îles (love of the islands) – in Hyères. As waves splash me in a salt-water mist, the 90-minute journey across the Mediterranean sets the scene for a great escape, especially when the captain takes a detour to an out-of-this-world rock formation, Cap des Mèdes, because 'the light is too beautiful'. There is no rush since Île du Levant moves at its own pace. That is partly because no cars are allowed on the island, save for a taxi to ferry people from the port to their accommodation. Héliopolis has a small footprint of just 65 hectares (160 acres) and about 90 year-round residents. Besides, walking aids wellbeing, especially since it is on such a steep slope. A local tells me it takes three days for your legs to adjust. So pack lightly, which is easy when you will mostly be sporting a sarong. But don't forget a torch – though electricity arrived in 1989, there aren't any streetlights – which adds to the yesteryear charm. After dropping my bag at Soléa Lodges, a trio of lovely studios overlooking the sea, I head off on an amble along eucalyptus-scented roads that weave past phone-booth libraries and dreamily named homes like La Recluserie (secluded hideaway). I find it easy to navigate using the wooden street signs, which have adages in French such as 'Être nu rendre heureux' (being naked makes you happy). That is surely the case when a leathery woman clad in just a lavender bumbag and matching flip-flops greets me with an ebullient 'Bonjour'. Saying hello is one of the isle's rules – reminders are posted on graphic signs about town. Others are to conserve water, a precious resource here, and to sit on a sarong in restaurants. Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion All roads lead to the Place Durville that tops Héliopolis. The cafe/restaurant La Pomme d'Adam has been the resort's social hub since 1932. 'I came to holiday here and never left,' says my waiter. Holidaymakers pick up nude-themed collectibles at L'Érotique Traversée des Siècles and hefty slices of quiche for picnics at Boulangerie Pâtisserie la Grigne. Full nudity is forbidden in shops (Levantines don thong-like minimums to skirt this rule). This is because Hyères's town council has a presence in Héliopolis, helming the itty-bitty town hall, post office and police station. The full-time islanders manage everything else with their local union. Hence, the quirk of Héliopolis being a 'private domain that is open to the public'. Nudism keeps tourism at bay compared with the busier Îles d'Or (Golden Isles) such as Île de Porquerolles, which attracts four times as many visitors as Île du Levant in high season. I have only visited in spring and autumn, which are the best times to savour the silence with the locals. A third of Héliopolis is covered by the Domaine des Arbousiers, a nature reserve that sprawls between a dense maquis and the wind-battered coastline. The strawberry-tree-lined Sentier du Point du Jour leads to the highest point, where I'm rewarded with a panorama of the surprisingly pretty military base (early birds should come for sunrise). Heading back to the Mediterranean, the precipitous Sentier des Moines path zigzags through a fragrant pine forest to the Sentier du Bord de Mer. This seaside trail is best traversed in the buff. With my skin deliciously warmed by the sun and refreshed by the breeze, I feel as free as the squawking seagulls gliding the thermals above me. Each step affirms the 'naturism is liberty' axiom that Levantines preach. A dip beckons at Bain de Diane, where concrete platforms scattered between rocks are topped with sunbathers. Their naked bodies are as much a part of the landscape as the lizards that scurry beside them, recalling writer Sophie Fontanel's poetic novel La Capitale de la Douceur: 'It's hard to believe that we look so much alike when we're undressed. We're all the same ideogram.' Past the port, Plage des Grottes is Héliopolis's only sandy beach. The gorgeous turquoise cove has always been adamantly nude. 'Locals once used mirrors to deflect sunbeams into the eyes of textiles [clothed people] to steer them away,' says septuagenarian Frédéric Capoulade, the island's historian. People can often be less social at traditional nude beaches. 'As a naturist community, we don't have the same barriers here,' says Fred Godeau, who owns the hip HéliOtel with his partner, Julie (their restaurant serves up a stellar panorama). Fred's words echo the Durville brothers' belief that clothes represent the social class to which an individual belongs. Everyone is on an equal footing wearing just a smile. The ferry goes from Hyères (90 mins, €29 return, and Lavandou (35-60 mins, €34 return, Accommodation at Soléa Lodges (open year-round, starts at €80 a night for a studio sleeping three. HéliOtel (open May-September, has doubles from €150 BB
The Guardian
4 days ago
- The Guardian
Provence laid bare: ‘I shed my clothes and found freedom on a beautiful French island'
The trail hugs every curve of the cliffside. On my left, the Mediterranean Sea swirls beside craggy rocks, while flowering plants unfurl on my right. A quarter of France's coast is lined with similar sentiers des douaniers (customs officers' paths), which were once used to patrol the sea. The difference on this trail is that I'm wearing nothing but my backpack. Off the coast of the southern French resort town of Hyères, Île du Levant is home to the only naturist community of its kind, the Domaine Naturiste d'Héliopolis. For 93 years, this rustic Eden has lured free-spirited lovers of nature and authenticity, as unabashedly naked as Adam and Eve before they ate the forbidden fruit. On every visit, I've found that when people shed their clothes, they shed their pretence. Unlike traditional naturist retreats where nudity is de rigueur, Héliopolis is peppered with clothing-optional spots. This makes it the ideal place for travellers to dip their toes into the naturist way of life. I first came to Île du Levant with my twin sister when I was 20. We had grown up in a home that was comfortable with nudity, yet a clothes-free island was unfamiliar territory. Disrobing on the hiking trail, it seemed as if we were breaking the rules. And when a pleasure boat came close to us, we felt as exposed as the rocks below. The sun soon melted our inhibitions, however. It was exhilarating to be nude in nature, each sense amplified as if our clothing had been stifling them. We instantly befriended a British couple, the awkwardness of chatting to strangers cast away with our clothes. When I returned to Héliopolis 26 years later, after moving to nearby Marseille, I was just as enchanted by its bare-it-all bonhomie, and felt worry-free as a solo female. I have returned every year since. The Fédération Française de Naturisme defines naturism as: 'A manner of living in harmony with nature, characterised by the practice of communal nudity, which consequently fosters respect for oneself, others and the environment.' The seeds were planted in late 19th‑century Germany as a social-health movement in response to dehumanising industrialisation. While certain aspects such as alfresco gymnastics and abstention from alcohol have disappeared, the crux of the philosophy – that gathering au naturel in sun-kissed nature does the body and mind good – is still its raison d'etre. One of the more unusual side‑effects of the back-to-nature trend that took hold during the Covid pandemic has been a surge in popularity of naturism in the UK, with an Ipsos poll in 2022 showing that one in seven Britons (6.75 million people) had practised it, up from 3.7 million in 2011. There is also an increased interest among young adults. A symbol of body positivity and eco-consciousness, naturism is also 'a break from the noise of the news, consumerism and other concerns that weigh on our generation', says Naomi Gergaud, a 30-year-old fourth-generation Levantine, whose grandparents used to say: 'We weren't born in knickers.' The UK's cool climate is not ideal for being in your birthday suit, however, so many Britons join northern Europeans in sunny southern France. The country is the world's leading naturist destination, welcoming 2.6 million visitors a year at naturist clubs, beaches or campsites. Or on an island, as in Héliopolis's case – though not an entire one, as 90% of Île du Levant is occupied by the French military. Over the centuries, everyone from Barbary pirates to Benedictine monks settled on the isle for its strategic, remote location. The French natural medicine doctors Gaston and André Durville put down roots on Île du Levant in 1932, fresh from founding a naturist camp called Physiopolis on Platais island in the Seine. The brothers named their Mediterranean settlement Héliopolis, after the ancient Greeks' belief in the therapeutic properties of the sun (helios). Almost a century later, Héliopolis is a trip back to those simpler times, despite being just five nautical miles from the shore. I board a passenger boat – fittingly called Amour des Îles (love of the islands) – in Hyères. As waves splash me in a salt-water mist, the 90-minute journey across the Mediterranean sets the scene for a great escape, especially when the captain takes a detour to an out-of-this-world rock formation, Cap des Mèdes, because 'the light is too beautiful'. There is no rush since Île du Levant moves at its own pace. That is partly because no cars are allowed on the island, save for a taxi to ferry people from the port to their accommodation. Héliopolis has a small footprint of just 65 hectares (160 acres) and about 90 year-round residents. Besides, walking aids wellbeing, especially since it is on such a steep slope. A local tells me it takes three days for your legs to adjust. So pack lightly, which is easy when you will mostly be sporting a sarong. But don't forget a torch – though electricity arrived in 1989, there aren't any streetlights – which adds to the yesteryear charm. After dropping my bag at Soléa Lodges, a trio of lovely studios overlooking the sea, I head off on an amble along eucalyptus-scented roads that weave past phone-booth libraries and dreamily named homes like La Recluserie (secluded hideaway). I find it easy to navigate using the wooden street signs, which have adages in French such as 'Être nu rendre heureux' (being naked makes you happy). That is surely the case when a leathery woman clad in just a lavender bumbag and matching flip-flops greets me with an ebullient 'Bonjour'. Saying hello is one of the isle's rules – reminders are posted on graphic signs about town. Others are to conserve water, a precious resource here, and to sit on a sarong in restaurants. Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion All roads lead to the Place Durville that tops Héliopolis. The cafe/restaurant La Pomme d'Adam has been the resort's social hub since 1932. 'I came to holiday here and never left,' says my waiter. Holidaymakers pick up nude-themed collectibles at L'Érotique Traversée des Siècles and hefty slices of quiche for picnics at Boulangerie Pâtisserie la Grigne. Full nudity is forbidden in shops (Levantines don thong-like minimums to skirt this rule). This is because Hyères's town council has a presence in Héliopolis, helming the itty-bitty town hall, post office and police station. The full-time islanders manage everything else with their local union. Hence, the quirk of Héliopolis being a 'private domain that is open to the public'. Nudism keeps tourism at bay compared with the busier Îles d'Or (Golden Isles) such as Île de Porquerolles, which attracts four times as many visitors as Île du Levant in high season. I have only visited in spring and autumn, which are the best times to savour the silence with the locals. A third of Héliopolis is covered by the Domaine des Arbousiers, a nature reserve that sprawls between a dense maquis and the wind-battered coastline. The strawberry-tree-lined Sentier du Point du Jour leads to the highest point, where I'm rewarded with a panorama of the surprisingly pretty military base (early birds should come for sunrise). Heading back to the Mediterranean, the precipitous Sentier des Moines path zigzags through a fragrant pine forest to the Sentier du Bord de Mer. This seaside trail is best traversed in the buff. With my skin deliciously warmed by the sun and refreshed by the breeze, I feel as free as the squawking seagulls gliding the thermals above me. Each step affirms the 'naturism is liberty' axiom that Levantines preach. A dip beckons at Bain de Diane, where concrete platforms scattered between rocks are topped with sunbathers. Their naked bodies are as much a part of the landscape as the lizards that scurry beside them, recalling writer Sophie Fontanel's poetic novel La Capitale de la Douceur: 'It's hard to believe that we look so much alike when we're undressed. We're all the same ideogram.' Past the port, Plage des Grottes is Héliopolis's only sandy beach. The gorgeous turquoise cove has always been adamantly nude. 'Locals once used mirrors to deflect sunbeams into the eyes of textiles [clothed people] to steer them away,' says septuagenarian Frédéric Capoulade, the island's historian. People can often be less social at traditional nude beaches. 'As a naturist community, we don't have the same barriers here,' says Fred Godeau, who owns the hip HéliOtel with his partner, Julie (their restaurant serves up a stellar panorama). Fred's words echo the Durville brothers' belief that clothes represent the social class to which an individual belongs. Everyone is on an equal footing wearing just a smile. The ferry goes from Hyères (90 mins, €29 return, and Lavandou (35-60 mins, €34 return, Accommodation at Soléa Lodges (open year-round, starts at €80 a night for a studio sleeping three. HéliOtel (open May-September, has doubles from €150 BB
The Sun
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
I go to a pub in Lancashire completely starkers with my man after stripping off in the car – we get abuse & shrug it off
Scroll down as Colin reveals what people say to the couple when they are seen naked in public ALE NATURALE I go to a pub in Lancashire completely starkers with my man after stripping off in the car – we get abuse & shrug it off A COUPLE have revealed how they attend their local pub naked - and describe the experience as "liberating". Since 2022, Sadie Tann, 35, and her partner Colin Unsworth, 55, have been going completely nude to their closest watering hole to listen to some of their favourite musicians. 8 A couple have opened up on going to the pub totally naked Credit: SWNS 8 Sadie Tann, 35, and her partner Colin Unsworth, 55, have been going completely nude to their closest watering hole since 2022 Credit: SWNS 8 They aren't bothered by what people think Credit: SWNS 8 The couple trip off at the car before going into their local pub Credit: SWNS Colin, a wild foraging teacher has been a naturist for over a decade, first getting involved aged 42 with the sponsored World Naked Bike Ride in Manchester in 2012. Colin said that he strips down to spread the message of body positivity and also raise awareness for mental health. Though he claimed that the couple receive some backlash from strangers, he has revealed "most of the time" they are met with "positivity" and "admiration" for being "comfortable" in their own skin. He explained: "We strip down in the car and go inside without clothes on. "There are four pubs we go to and we had to build up relationships with the owners and staff to let us do it. "At the shows people always ask questions saying I must be 'super confident' but mainly I accept and am comfortable in my own skin. "Body shame has done a lot of damage to people - modern society holds a moral shame over a naked body but that should never be the case." "I don't do it for attention, I do it to spread the word of body positivity." Naturism is the act of going outside without clothes on in a non-sexual manner, which is legal in the UK even if it causes offense. Though it can be seen as illegal if the person is acting in a way which causes harassment, alarm, or distress to others. Watch the moment Sian Welby and Craig Doyle reel in horror as naked men sit on the This Morning sofa Colin, from Adlington, in Lancashire, highlighted that throughout his childhood he was "hypersensitive" to touch and didn't like the feeling of clothes on his body. He said this continued into his adult life but it wasn't until he parted from his wife of 20 years he decided to step into the world of naturism which started with him going wild shrubbing in just an apron. Now, Colin and Sadie go to the pub naked once a month, mainly to catch some live music. They arrive at the venue nude, saying it saves the "awkwardness" of being clothed and then getting undressed. What is Naturism? Naturism, also known as nudism, is a cultural and lifestyle movement that advocates for and practices social nudity in both private and public spaces. The philosophy behind naturism emphasises harmony with nature, self-respect, respect for others, and a sense of community. Naturism is a diverse and inclusive lifestyle choice that encourages individuals to embrace their natural state, foster a deeper connection with nature, and build a community based on mutual respect and equality. Naturists believe that naturism promotes a healthy and accepting attitude toward the human body, regardless of shape, size, or imperfections. Many naturists are also advocates for environmental conservation and sustainable living, believing in a close connection with nature. Naturism also fosters a sense of equality, as clothing often signifies social status, and its absence can help break down these barriers. The couple spent time getting to know the owners and staff before they were allowed inside nude. Colin added: "It took time before we were able to. "I became a regular at the places and got to know the staff and the owner really well. "We only did it when the owner agreed to it." He shared that after entering for the first couple of minutes he feels "exposed" but following buying a drink and having a few conversations it becomes "normal". It seems to add a positive vibe to the pub - you find people often talk about it long after the occasion Colin Unsworth Colin expressed: "All conversations happen with eye contact and after a few minutes you forget you are naked. "When the music starts playing we feel vibrant and free and also feel accepted. "People at the gig also tell us that it is better for their experience, they feel part of something that is liberating even if they themselves aren't naked. "In a normal sense we are just there to enjoy the evening and music just like everybody else, making sure we are having a good time. "It seems to add a positive vibe to the pub - you find people often talk about it long after the occasion." 8 Colin has been a naturist for over a decade Credit: SWNS 8 The couple describe the experience as 'liberating" Credit: SWNS The naturist also acknowledged that he rarely runs into issues with people once inside, as he continued: "People come up to us all the time and ask us questions. "We find ourselves talking about body acceptance and positivity and most of the time they find themselves coming to terms with their own bodies after our conversations. "People often say that they feel that we've made them feel that they can also be accepted as themselves." Though he explained when they do get abused, they simply "shrug it off" and continue, as they "aren't doing anything wrong". Unlock even more award-winning articles as The Sun launches brand new membership programme - Sun Club 8 Colin shared that after entering for the first couple of minutes he feels "exposed" but following buying a drink and having a few conversations it becomes "normal" Credit: SWNS
BBC News
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Hundreds descend on Langport for Nudefest 2025
Hundreds of people have descended on a campsite for what has been billed as a "normal festival" - just one where everyone is naked. Thorney Lakes in Langport, Somerset, has once again become home to Nudefest - a week-long event that sits at the centre of the British Naturism calendar. From a performance by The Wurzels to a volleyball tournament and a cider farm tour, the event attracts hundreds of people from across the UK each year."In the evening we've got a silent disco, bands playing and karaoke - it's a normal festival but we're not wearing clothes," said Sue May, 50, from Hampshire who has been attending the festival since 2018. "It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, everybody gets on - you don't find an angry naturist," she said," Ms May added. "It's a place you can be yourself." Speaking from the festival site she told the BBC: "If people saw what I'm looking at here, there's just people wandering around, they're chatting, there's nothing seedy about it."As a volunteer with Women in Naturism, helping women find the confidence to explore the community, she said she believed interest in the lifestyle had "definitely grown" since Covid. University of Sheffield student Saoirse Newhouse, 21, told the BBC she was attending the festival for the first time as part of the organising team, carrying out duties from setting up sports games to filming social media content. Describing the "friendly" atmosphere at the festival, she said: "Obviously when you do something that isn't societally considered the norm you generally have to be quite open minded.""There's always something going on, some sort of activity, so you can always get involved with that and talk to more people," she added. She also encouraged other women like her to get involved with naturism, despite persistent stereotypes about the community mostly consisting of older men. "There is a bit of a gender skew," she said - but added: "I, and a lot of other women I've spoken to, [say] you feel more respected as a human here."I've never at any of these festivals had someone staring at my breasts or anything inappropriate like that - I've had it more commonly in the outside world," she said - adding that she felt more protected at a naturist event than she did at a pub or club. She described the "strict stance" taken by British Naturism on harassment, which she felt encourages more people to attend "because they know their security is really respected". "People do assume that if you're wearing no clothes you must get unwanted attention but obviously when we look at statistics we realise that what a woman is wearing doesn't determine if she's going to be harassed or assaulted," she added. "It's completely on the perpetrator." Another attendee, 64-year-old Dave Bygrave from North Yorkshire, told the BBC there was "just a really nice and friendly atmosphere" at the festival. "It's fantastic to be in this place where you can just wander around, get food, hear the music, have a drink and talk to people without ever having to get dressed," he many in the community, he said, he and his wife had long been interested in the lifestyle but had been able to go to far more events following their retirement. "The difference between packing to come to Nudefest versus packing for any other holiday is comical really - a couple of t-shirts and some spare underwear for the journey home and that's about it," he joked.
