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Why Britons still aren't ready for ‘social nudity'
Why Britons still aren't ready for ‘social nudity'

Telegraph

time5 days ago

  • Telegraph

Why Britons still aren't ready for ‘social nudity'

As a Briton, I feel I have much in common with my Scandinavian cousins: an endurance of long, cold, grey winters; a love of thrillers; a passion for wild swimming and saunas. In the course of researching two books on sauna culture, I've spent years sweating it out around Estonian lakes, and in hotboxes on windswept Norwegian archipelagos. Generally, when enjoying these activities I've been wearing a swimsuit – and this is where any similarities to our Nordic neighbours end. For in these bathing nations, nudity is a given, and it has been for generations; a deep, clean sweat is a naked one. Why wear an unhygienic swimsuit which prevents your skin from breathing and lessens the sensory experience, when you can go without? Why indeed. I can think of many reasons. Shame, embarrassment, legacy of a Catholic schooling, scar tissue from unwanted sexual advances, the male gaze, unachievable images of female perfection. Through my work, on research trips around Northern European cultures where nude bathing is the norm, I have had to confront my body issues; I have been in situations where being the only swim-suited one feels out of place. I have had to dig deep not to be the stereotypical British prude. I've been told to remove my sarong in a 200-person naked sauna event in the Netherlands, and come a cropper in a smoke sauna in southern Estonia where no-one ever wears clothes. Slowly, I've relaxed a little, shed the layers and come to appreciate that being naked in the company of others – and in a safe setting – can be freeing and healthy. It's just taken me a while to catch up with those enlightened bathers in Scandinavia, Germany, the Baltics and beyond. And I'm not alone. According to an Ipsos poll, 6.75 million Brits people claim to be naturists, up from 3.7 million in 2011. The survey stretches that definition from being naked in a private hot tub to being an all-out naturist, but slowly, it seems we are unbuttoning, unravelling the threads of convention. When it comes to public nudity, the burgeoning numbers of wild swimmers and sauna bathers are driving the trend, which appeals to all ages – and is largely being led by women. In the Outdoor Swimmer 2025 trend report, of 2,500 swimmers surveyed, 59 per cent of women reported wild or cold-water swimming weekly or more, compared with 37 per cent of men. More than half of those aged 25 to 34 started swimming after the pandemic. In these novel settings, we seem more likely to relax long-held social conventions. 'It starts with accidentally forgetting the dry robe, or the underwear,' says one of my wild swimming pals. 'Then there's the faff and fuss of carting all the swim clobber to the water and back. It's so much quicker and easier to travel light, to keep the changing kit to a minimum at the risk of exposing a nipple, or a pale goose-bumped buttock to the elements. Over time, you just don't care any more, and nor does anyone else.' Ella Foote, the editor of The Outdoor Swimmer magazine, offers guided wild swims to groups. 'If I have a same sex group, I'll sometimes suggest a skinny dip at the end. They all look at me with wide eyes, and it only takes one and then they all strip off and go in. Swimming naked is a natural transition to being at one with nature. And because you're submerged, it feels safer; it's a good space to play at nudity. People tell me all the time that their relationship with their body has improved.' Sauna culture is playing into it too, as quirky horseboxes, pop-up tents and cosy barrel saunas provide places to sweat on beaches, lakes and rivers everywhere from Crieff to Cardiff. In the nine months I spent travelling around the country, researching these new hotspots and sharing the bench with athletes and recovering addicts, builders, barristers, mums and teens and pensioners, I came up close to the complex relationship the British have with our own – and other peoples' – bodies. I met bathers who wear wetsuits, leggings and sweatshirts in the sauna – anything rather than nothing – and I've been to 'clothing optional' sessions where everyone is naked. Often these are started by the community and evolve organically. Take Quays Swim in Surrey, a 50-acre swimming lake with two saunas near Mytchett. More than 75 per cent of its visitors are female and the venue hosts two ladies-only naked swims for Breast Cancer Now. After stripping off for these dips, a group of women set up a naked sauna. 'I don't know what it is about clothes, but when you discard them, you're discarding a whole load of other issues as well,' says one participant, who got into cold swimming after the death of her husband. When she first bared all, she found it 'liberating, as though the swimsuit was holding everything in. All that pent-up emotion was set free, and that's what I love.' Beach Box Spa Brighton runs a 'clothing-optional' session hosted by German sauna master Mika Valentini, 34. 'Everyone comes for themselves; they're not looking at others, and it's understood that nudity doesn't mean a certain outcome. They feel relief about exposing their bodies, which builds body confidence.' The event is carefully screened off, and there's always someone supervising. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Beach Box Sauna Spa | Brighton | Aufguss | Pirtis (@beachboxbtn) Valentini grew up in Munich where on a hot summer's day the city's swimming lake is packed with naked bodies.'I have a healthy view of my body as I became accustomed to nudity from a young age and it's not linked to sex,' he says, adding that in Germany there is also an attitude of, 'It's my body. This is my natural self and how I want to be.' Not everybody in Britain is relaxed about the gradual arrival of social nudity to our shores. Cut to Corton Beach in Lowestoft, Suffolk where this spring the parish council came under fire for trying to ban naturists from its famously beautiful sands. It was forced to remove signage banning ' lewd behaviour ' to the dismay of disgruntled locals who had complained of sexual activity in the dunes. Public nudity is not illegal in England and Wales but the laws around it are open to interpretation; under the Sexual Offences Act 2003 unless a naked person has the intention of 'causing alarm and distress' it is not a crime to wander around naked anywhere. But one person's distress is another person's freedom. 'There was a time when the legislation was clear,' says Andrew Welch, the national spokesman for British Naturism (BN), a non-profit group with around 8,500 members which organises naked events around the UK. 'If you were going to strip off, you had to go to a designated beach. Now you can go anywhere.' Earlier this month, nude-fearing locals will have had to endure thousands of bathers taking part in The Great British Skinny Dip, organised by BN. For many, it will have been their first 'dare to bare' experience and more than 60 venues participated. Among them was Whitmore Lakes near Stoke-on-Trent where male and female wild swimmers dipped in a small private lake. That event was led by Whitmore Lakes' operations manager Lauren Pakeman, 31. 'People here are wild swimmers and understand the health benefits and they want to strip back and go to the next level, really feel the elements.' Harry Beardsley, the commercial director of PortaSauna, provides tent saunas to locations across the UK. 'Clothing optional events are definitely more spoken about in public now,' he says. 'People seem to be becoming more accepting of nudity. Many of them are familiar with sauna cultures in other countries where it's weird to be in swimwear. But our society is not really built for it,' he cautions. 'Public naked events need to be handled very sensitively so that both participants and the general public are protected. It will take time and practice. Where's the line? We have to prepare for the worst as we are so behind the times.' Fast forward a week, and Beardsley's cautionary words were in my ears. In the name of research and in what, for me, was an epic act of bravery, I attended a naked swim organised in association with British Naturism at a leisure centre in East London. The group included five women and 23 men of mixed ages and a naturist couple in their 70s. The atmosphere was strange; naturists are not the new wave sauna folk I am used to meeting, and I couldn't orient myself. Was there a sexual undertone? Being so heavily outnumbered by men, I felt squeamish and suspicious. Some attendees said, when I asked them, that they were there that evening because they love swimming naked. Others were clearly enjoying the sociable atmosphere; nudity can break down barriers and almost everyone but me appeared comfortable. But my gut feeling proved a trusted ally when one young man turned to me and said: 'You're the journalist, right? I'm finding all these tits and vaginas overwhelming.' I later spotted him touching himself inappropriately and reported him to the organiser of the evening. I vowed never to return to a naturist event and left, my intuition muttering with a 'told-you-so' righteousness. The next day I received an email from the BN organiser: 'I was absolutely gutted when you told me about the incident which occurred,' it read. 'It was absolutely against the mood, intention and guidelines of our event [..] We don't need this kind of bad apple to lower the tone of our sessions. The night was fantastic, our busiest so far, and I'm pretty angry that his actions have cast a shadow over the event.' The culprit was banned and the code of conduct was made more visible on the event webpage, but what about me? An apology can't undo the impact the incident had on me. I am seasoned in both nudity and crude male commentary, but how would a younger, more sensitive female have felt after such an episode? There are reasons, tested over millennia, why, in almost all sweat bathing nations, men and women bathe separately. But, in this country, won't 'bad apples' always be drawn to public events where people are naked? I quiz Welch at British Naturism. His response is not robust: 'I'm sorry that you've experienced this in practice, but I think it [lewd behaviour] is more of a perceived barrier than a real one. The number of times people have to be told to behave or to leave a place is a lot fewer than you would imagine.' Suspicious of BN's approach to safeguarding, I call Barry Sykes, the artist in residence at the British Sauna Society, who has also had experience with BN events; we have often shared the sauna bench together. We discuss how there can be a naïve, clubby idealism among naturists, something Sykes says he also noticed when he was commissioned to develop an art project at the naturist community Oakwood Sun Club near Romford in Essex. 'As a white middle-aged man, I was in the majority there, so maybe less likely to feel vulnerable, but I often wonder whether the committed naturists have been doing it for so long, and it feels so unquestionably comfortable for them, that they can struggle to empathise with what it's like for newcomers,' he says. 'I always found going to Oakwood a welcoming, cathartic experience that took me outside of normal behaviour. Organised naturism has been a fringe aspect of British culture for nearly 100 years and I find its absurdity fascinating, but it still takes a great deal of thought and care to host people safely and ensure everyone feels relaxed but respectful.' Some of the new generation of sauna owners have similarly idealistic dreams of bringing authentic, naked sauna culture to our shores. But the results so far are mixed. Katie Bracher, 43, is a co-founder of the British Sauna Society and the director of Wild Spa Wowo in Sussex, a cluster of saunas and cold plunges set in woodlands. 'When I launched a weekly naked session, I had hoped to move British bathing culture forward. I'm not a naturist but when you get used to having a naked sauna, it's so much nicer, and I wanted people to experience that, in nature, at ease with their bodies.' It started well, she says, with a relaxed festival vibe, until some nearby campers complained about seeing naked people. Then the split between sexes shifted. 'It evolved from being the same number of men and women, to being mainly men at which point the women started covering themselves. In the end, it became too complex,' says Bracher. Charlie Duckworth, a co-founder of Community Sauna Bath which runs sites all over London, came to a similar realisation. 'I like being naked in the sauna and I started out wanting to create an authentic Finnish experience but after we had a couple incidents, I gave up trying to move the needle on it.' When did it come to this? Why are naked events in this country so fraught with jeopardy? Surely our Stone Age ancestors sweating in communal saunas in Orkney would have been naked? The Romans bathed in the nude too, and the first Victorian Turkish baths offered single sex sessions where most bathers were naked. Malcolm Shifrin, the author of Victorian Turkish Baths, says: 'There were differing views, but overall casual nudity in the Victorian Turkish bath was more or less the norm during the second part of the 19th century.' But beyond the bathhouse, modesty was also the norm. Clothing became tied to morality which blended with shame. Is our Victorian moral code still deeply engrained? Valentini thinks so: 'Brits never want to offend and I think the belief is that the body is private and shouldn't be displayed.' Towards the end of the 20th century, there was a creeping change, not from public bath operators but from bathers of other religions and couples swimming together in costumes. But the real death knell of naked bathing was the take-over of local authority-run Turkish and swimming baths by private enterprises. 'The brief of the local authority was to provide a community service, which private companies could not afford to do,' says Shifrin: 'If new bath operators had led the way by providing happier, healthier facilities, a majority would have followed them, ensuring that some provision was made for those who prefer costumes. Germany, it seems, has it absolutely spot-on.' So too the Scandinavians. In 1432, Venetian nobleman Pietro Querini, shipwrecked near the island of Røst in northern Norway, wrote, 'The inhabitants of these islands are very pure living people [..] their customs are so simple they do not bother to lock up their belongings […] In the same rooms where the men and their wives and daughters slept, we also slept, and in our presence, they undressed naked when going to bed. They used to take a badstue (sauna) every Thursday and they would undress at home and walk a bowshot (around 450 metres) naked to the badstue and bathe together men and women.' Should this sea-faring Venetian have washed up on, say, the Isle of Wight, his observations would have taken a different tone. Given that we need SAS-level training on how to behave together naked (Rule Number One: Look people in the eye, and only in the eye), is it simpler to separate men and women, as they do in Finland, Japan and other evolved bathing nations? I ask the Surrey women, who treasure their weekly naked sauna, if they would ever welcome men? No, they cry emphatically. 'We would not do this with men because you get tension where you feel self-conscious and all of that,' says one. Another adds: 'It's boring, and it just changes everything. If it went mixed, I wouldn't come any more.' Carry-On style spectacles such as the World Naked Bike Ride inevitably attract coverage. (Our ancestors would surely have donned a practical loincloth before jumping onto the saddle of a bike had such a thing existed.) British Naturism get-togethers such as Nudefest – a naked festival in Somerset, and events such as naked pottery classes, dining and pétanque – do little more than provide nudge-nudge entertainment for outsiders. And as I discovered, going to an unclothed event with naturists can be like diving into the deep end before you have learnt to swim. Perhaps this new wave of nudity chimes better with the naturists of the 1920s and 1930s, those doctors, psychoanalysts, avant-gardists and health lovers who advocated nakedness as a non-sexual route to a fit, sun-kissed, healthy body. Eager to ditch stuffy Victorian attitudes, they too looked to Europe for inspiration. Annebella Pollen, the author of Nudism in a Cold Climate and a professor of visual and material culture at the University of Brighton, points out some major evolutions: 'The 1930s naturists believed in a cult of beauty; it was not an inclusive movement. Today, in the age of social media, we make conscious efforts to celebrate bodily imperfections.' TikTok trends such as 'Naked Moms', in which young women talk about how seeing their mothers naked as they were growing up helps with body positivity, and a focus on how our relationship with our bodies negatively affects our mental health have shifted the narrative. 'There are new agreements and understandings especially among the young who are careful about how they're seen and who's looking,' says Pollen. 'The dominance of older men among nudists may be off-putting to younger women.' Can we change and mature? More education and boundaries are surely needed and it won't happen quickly. 'Promoting the benefits is only half the job,' says Sykes. 'People need to know what is expected of them. But we have so much anxiety about our bodies and it can be undone. Exposure changes attitudes.' Perhaps it's a gentle, gradual journey, a series of small reveals, before we can ever come to see that in the end, a body is just a body.

Judge orders famous Seattle nude beach closed because people keep having sex in public there
Judge orders famous Seattle nude beach closed because people keep having sex in public there

Daily Mail​

time16-07-2025

  • Daily Mail​

Judge orders famous Seattle nude beach closed because people keep having sex in public there

A Seattle judge has ordered that a popular beach be closed because it has become a hot spot for public sex and nudity. King County Superior Court Judge Samuel Chung has given the city two weeks to handle the ongoing inappropriate behavior occurring at Denny Blaine Park. The waterfront park has become known as a nudist spot for over 50 years, though it is not specifically designated by Seattle Parks and Recreation as a clothing optional park. Residents of the Denny Blaine area have reported an escalation in aggressive sexual behaviors over the last few years at the park, and neighbors organized a group - Denny Blaine Park for All - to combat the issue. As part of the lawsuit that the group filed, they provided video evidence of people masturbating in the park. The group wrote an open letter to the community which detailed some of the troubling incidents, including a man exposing himself to a female neighbor while making sexually aggressive remarks, and another nude man masturbating on the hood of his car for over six hours. Four public masturbation incidents occurred in a single week this March, according to the open letter, and the community has been plagued by ongoing trespassing, indecent exposures and 'menacing behavior'. Chung ruled that the sexual behavior and nudity at the park constitutes a 'public nuisance' in a preliminary injunction issued Monday. Lee Keller, a spokesperson for Denny Blaine Park for All, said, 'At a minimum, we need the law upheld.' 'This gives the city an opportunity for 14 days to get a plan together, so that's what the judge is asking for,' Keller continued. 'These sexual misconducts, lewd activity, masturbation, and public sex acts need to stop. However the city wants to do that; that's up to them.' Denny Blaine Park for All members said they brought the lawsuit about after 'exhausting every possibility' of trying to get the city to step in and handle the issue. It is unclear exactly how the city plans to address the new law, but Mayor Bruce Harrell on Tuesday called Chung's order an 'opportunity' to talk with different communities who use the park. 'We recognize the historical significance of that park,' the mayor told KOMO News. 'I've also made it clear that some of the unacceptable behaviors, some of the lewd behaviors, there's no place for that at any park... we'll see with the city attorney's office how they proceed,' Harrell continued. Although nudity is generally considered legal in the city of Seattle, Judge Chung said that nudity must be addressed as part of the city's plan to combat nuisances at the park. Friends of Denny Blaine is a group that supports allowing nudity in the park. It is unclear exactly how the city plans to address the new law, but Mayor Bruce Harrell on Tuesday called Chung's order an 'opportunity' to talk with different communities who use the park The group said that Chung's ruling 'erroneously links harassment and other misconduct to general nude usage of the park.' A statement from the group said, 'An enormously overwhelming majority of nude usage of the beach by thousands of Seattleites each year is friendly, legal, and positive.' 'Our aim is to ensure the case, and the city's response, focuses solely on actual criminal activity -- public masturbation and sexual harassment -- which cannot be conflated with mere nudity,' the statement continued - adding that non-sexual nudity is protected free expression under the First Amendment. Friends of Denny Blaine says the group has been working with park users, the parks department, Seattle police and neighbors to handle issues arising at the park.

Danny Dyer reveals he ran 'stark NAKED' through a council estate while filming for the new series of Mr. Bigstuff - and locals couldn't believe their eyes
Danny Dyer reveals he ran 'stark NAKED' through a council estate while filming for the new series of Mr. Bigstuff - and locals couldn't believe their eyes

Daily Mail​

time16-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Daily Mail​

Danny Dyer reveals he ran 'stark NAKED' through a council estate while filming for the new series of Mr. Bigstuff - and locals couldn't believe their eyes

Danny Dyer has revealed he left locals wide-eyed in shock when he ran through a council estate 'stark naked' while filming Mr. Bigstuff. After the success of its first series, the second instalment of the Sky comedy-drama is set to hit our screens later this year. The show follows two estranged and rather contrasting brothers, Glen (Ryan Sampson) and Lee (Danny Dyer), as they discover that their father, who they thought was dead, is actually alive. But during filming for the show's second series, which has now finished, Danny was asked to do something not many actors have done before - run through a British council estate fully nude. He and his co-star Ryan told Amanda Holden and Jamie Theakston about the hilarious scene on Wednesday during an appearance on Heart Breakfast. Ryan explained: 'So, series two, end of the first episode, it got quite a visceral... Shall we say a full-frontal moment?', before Danny revealed: 'Nudity.' Ryan continued: 'There's a full-frontal moment, and it's in a public place as well. And I wasn't sure whether Danny would to do it or whatever, but he's completely up for it.' 'It's a scene where I'm running through a council estate, yeah, stark naked,' Dyer quipped. 'I read it, I laughed. I thought you know, "it's got to be done". The first ep is about Lee, he's been emasculated. So he's just moping about all day, so irritated. 'He needs to find his mojo, I was going to say his plums!,' the former EastEnders actor laughed. 'Anyways, so there's this amazing scene at the end where I'm sort of chasing someone down the street, and I've got a towel, and I take the towel off, and I use it as some sort of lasso. 'I mean, you're sort of reading it going, "How on Earth are we going to do this?"' Ryan went onto describe the moment Danny whipped off the towel and sprinted through the estate, with a local even spotting him as he did so. 'Like, I thought we were going to shut the road down or something. Actually, nope. It's just a real suburban street! 'So, I'm stood at the other end of the street and he's running, and there's this man on his phone. Danny is running down, and this man goes - he's outside the house - and he goes on a phone, "Sorry babe, I'm going to have to get back to you, because there's a man running down the street naked, and I'm not being funny, he looks like Mick from EastEnders".' Danny played Mick, who owned the Queen Victoria pub in the popular BBC soap, for a nine-year period beginning in 2013. Elsewhere in the interview, Danny opened up about his daughter Dani Dyer's wedding to West Ham United footballer Jarrod Bowen, calling it 'the best day of his life'. The celebrity couple tied the knot in a 'Bridgerton-themed' wedding on May 31 at the plush £500-a-night Langley Hotel in Iver, Buckinghamshire. Dani wowed on the occasion in a £10,000 off-the-shoulder dress created by the award-winning wedding dress designer Suzanne Neville. Jarrod - who wiped away tears as Danny walked his daughter towards the alter - wore a three-piece black suit for the ceremony. Danny, a lifelong Hammers supporter, has regularly gushed about the fact his daughter's seeing his favourite footballer. And he amusingly told Amanda and Jamie that on Dani's wedding day he gave her away to the 'man of his dreams'. Speaking about the wedding, he told the hosts: 'I was in pieces, darling. 'The best day of my life. Honestly, it was just so beautiful. 'I managed, you know, to give my daughter away to the man of my dreams - I don't think that's ever happened in the history of any father giving their daughter away! 'So it was the perfect day. Let me tell you that now, it was just beautiful.'

City of Seattle ordered to come up with plan to address public lewdness at Denny Blaine Park
City of Seattle ordered to come up with plan to address public lewdness at Denny Blaine Park

Yahoo

time15-07-2025

  • Yahoo

City of Seattle ordered to come up with plan to address public lewdness at Denny Blaine Park

The city of Seattle has been ordered to come up with a plan to address the 'public nusiances' at Denny Blaine Park. This comes after a court granted an injunction that was brought fourth by the group 'Denny Blaine Park For All,' a neighbor association. The group was calling for the closure of Denny Blaine Park following 'nearly daily' instances of public masturbation, sex acts and drug use. The neighborhood group argued in their injunction that the city has not taken action to address these problems, and that the 'city is refusing to even comply with its own code of conduct which prohibits nudity, not to mention sexual acts,' according to the injunction. In the injunction, the city did not dispute most of the allegations and countered that nudity has been practiced at Denny Blaine Park for years. The city said in the injunction that nudity itself is not considered a nuisance, but the sex acts are. PREVIOUS COVERAGE: Group files suit against city of Seattle over multiple instances of lewd acts at park 'While the city has indeed taken action to alleviate parking problems, it has elected not to reduce or eliminate nudity and sexual problems at the park,' the injunction read. The court ruled that the city has 14 days to submit a plan of abatement. It also ruled against the neighborhood group's request to have the park closed immediately. "Today's decisiongranted the injunction andconfirmsthe City has failed to stop ongoing illegal activity at Denny Blaine Park — including public sex and masturbation, indecent exposure, and lewd conduct. The injunction is a necessary step to make the park safe for everyone, giving the City two weeks to do what it has ignored for years: respond to very real complaints and restore public safety," the Denny Blaine Park for All community group said in a statement. KIRO 7 has reached out to the city of Seattle for comment and has yet to hear back. It's unclear what the next course of action is after the city sends its abatement plan.

Provence laid bare: ‘I shed my clothes and found freedom on a beautiful French island'
Provence laid bare: ‘I shed my clothes and found freedom on a beautiful French island'

The Guardian

time12-07-2025

  • 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

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