The Naturist Foundation: a sort of Butlins in the buff!

I’ve never looked at a woman’s eyes so much. This weekend I realised women’s eyes are really quite beautiful: they have two, usually either side of their nose. Thirty minutes after sitting down, I could tell you the eye colour of every woman at the table. I only dared the occasional and polite stare at various exposed nipples and/or bottoms as they wobbled to the loo or beer tent. Of course, I’m exaggerating a fair bit and getting well ahead of myself. Let me explain and offer a little context… A few days ago, I received an invite to a jazz and beer festival. A journalist friend of mine invited me to be her plus one. There’s a slight catch, she quickly added. It’s at a naturist resort in Kent. Never one to be deterred by a bit of wobble (or Kent), I agreed to go. My friend and I attending The Naturist Foundation as day visitors on the Saturday of a four day event.

The average age of the patrons is fifty plus. However, there were families with young children, men and women in their twenties, thirties and forties too. Each of them enjoying the swimming pool, tennis courts and woodland walks around the enclosed fifty-acre site (replete with caravans and camping). After lunch, we took part in a traditional ‘umbrella parade’: three dozen naked people, led by jazz musicians, danced and larked about the grounds holding decorated umbrellas aloft. It felt oddly surreal, like a low-key Notting Hill carnival fused with the procession in The Wickerman. Throughout the day an assortment of talented Jazz musicians played in a marquee opposite a beer tent and pavilion. I know little to nothing about Jazz (Miles Davis) but the performers seemed to toot and bop in all the right places. Mostly my friend and I spent the day talking to the various visitors and members of the foundation, attempting to understand what makes naturism so appealing. In particular, I spoke to two married couples in their mid to late forties both of whom had been attending the foundation for several years.

Me: ‘Why did you first come to a naturist resort?’

Pierre: ‘To relax and get a good tan,’ he partly joked.

Me: ‘And you’ve been coming for over five years?’

Pierre: ‘That’s right. There’s a real community feel. We’ve made great friends, and see ourselves coming here for the rest of our lives.’

Me: ‘But do you think not wearing clothes lends to that “community feel”?’

Pierre: ‘It’s a conversation starter and a bit of a leveller. It’s something we all immediately have in common. When people first arrive they can feel a bit awkward, but as soon as they see everyone is in the same boat they really open up. All their other worries shaking off with their clothing.’

What Pierre said resonated with me and my own brief experience. Both my friend and I had gone full monty, albeit shuffling about in our flip flops. At first baring all in the company of strangers felt both nerve wracking and somewhat titillating. For the first hour, I simultaneously feared my penis shrinking in the cool breeze and expanding as I witnessed jolly boobs and bums jiggle by. And yet disrobing also felt rather disarming – that is how fast you get used to everyone being nude, including yourself. You become desensitized to the abundance of flesh. The exposed nipples, penises and behinds arrest your attention for a moment before you feel compelled to talk instead of gawp. In this sense the nudity acts as a genuine ice breaker: ‘We’re both here showing off our bits, and in some ways that should feel perfectly normal and lovely irrespective of how big or small said bits are’. You could easily see how backgrounds might matter slightly less in this environment too. Backsides not backgrounds, with everyone coming together (no pun intended) regardless of other cultural markers. After all, it is slightly more difficult to carry airs and graces when someone can see your cellulite. To further this point the fact you’re standing there willing to expose yourself to the elements and all and sundry lends to the notion of a common outlook – a shared sensibility – or at least a willingness to try something new.

Of course, to try and find any one reason to explain why any one group of people do anything is total madness. As in all things there are a myriad of reasons people might dip a toe into naturism: the novelty factor, the sheer fun of it, the frisson, the taboo; being a bit pervy, being a bit saucy; likely the odd bit of wife swapping here and there; body acceptance, body positivity, health and fitness; getting the aforementioned great tan; people wanting that extra connection with nature, the feeling of being unfettered with the breeze between one’s unbridled buttocks; or maybe escaping the confines of petty bourgeoisie society. Some reasons simple, some complex. All I can really tell you is the experience didn’t leave any permanent scars, the people were very warm, welcoming and lovely, and the beer really packs a wallop.

The Naturist Foundation will be holding an event called Party in the Stark at the end of July including cover bands and a silent disco.