Letting it all hang out
Trying naturism should be the most natural thing in the world, but you need to shed more than your clothes to fully enjoy it
BY GRAHAM LITTLE
Monsieur! Monsieur! Tu n’avez pas une serviette, monsieur!”
The waiter came running over, frantically waving his arms as only the French can, creating exactly the sort of scene I had been desperate to avoid all afternoon. I was confused as well as embarrassed. True, I didn’t have a serviette, but surely that issue was dwarfed by the immeasurably greater fact that I didn’t have any clothes on.
Not in Cap d’Agde it wasn’t. In this naturist holiday village, 105km up the Mediterranean coast from Perpignan, 40,000 naked bodies cram bare-bum-cheek-to-bare-bum-cheek into the world’s largest nudist colony, sunbathing, shopping, dining, drinking, banking, swimming, cycling, living almost every minute of their holiday completely sans vêtements.
It sounds easy, but there are certain aspects of protocol that need to be observed and I had clumsily just failed to observe one.
Belatedly, I realised that serviette meant towel, and that by plonking my bare bottom self-consciously down on the wicker chair in the bar, I had broken one of the cardinal rules of the colony, which is to “always respect the hygiene of the property”. I should have been sitting on a towel or a sarong, like everybody else.
Of course, I was new to the nudist scene – my perfect swimming-trunk tan lines gave that away – so I was forgiven and allowed to sit on my serviette and order a salad… without dressing, of course.
Most visitors to the resort stay for a week or two in the campsite, or rent one of the thousands of apartments or villas. There’s also a hotel for shorter stays. Day-trippers are welcome; they can arrive without booking but must sign the nudists’ “charter” at the security gates and pay a daily tourist tax to gain access. It does feel a little like paying to watch a naughty movie.
Things can be difficult for the Cap D’Agde day-tripper – usually naturist virgins – especially for those who have resolutely refused to mature. Driving in through the gates of the colony is like arriving at Pinewood Studios during the making of a Carry On film or a Benny Hill sketch.
All the classic nudist images are there: the fat naked man in the phone box, the naked woman cycling past with a baguette under her arm, the nudist pruning the hedge outside his villa. Suppressing the irresistible urge to snigger is the first challenge for the novice naturist.
Up until the scene in the restaurant I had been feeling unaccountably proud of myself. All I’d done was drive through the security gates, park, take off all my clothes and walk down to the beach – no more than I was actually bound to do after paying my entrance money and signing up to the naturist’s charter – but such a thrilling new experience had me gazing out to sea wearing only a smug grin.
Nothing can wipe the smugness from the first-time Irish nudist quicker than a near-collision with a Dublin-registered van. Removing my inhibitions was harder than removing my clothes, and the sight of the navy van brought them back with the irrational thought that someone – just because they were from Ireland – might recognise me.
Not all naturist colonies have the same policies, but at Cap D’Agde everything can be done in the nude. Attracting nudists for over 50 years, it’s the world’s biggest self-contained naturist resort, where the only “textiles” (a naturist term for clothes-wearers) are the staff who run the shops and other facilities. The resort is built around a 2km stretch of perfect sandy beach in a sheltered bay, so it’s surprising visitors bother to shop.
Determinedly resisting the compulsive adolescent temptation to stare at every female, I bizarrely found it much harder to ignore some of the males. For these guys, a stay in Cap D’Agde possibly represents the only time they’re able to openly and legally impress the ladies. But the naturist experience isn’t about showing off. In fact, it’s supposed to be about the opposite. The whole idea is that it doesn’t matter how any part of your body looks or what shape you are, every person is a creation of beauty who shouldn’t be cloaked by any post-Eden human humility.
That said, there are many who appear to have lavished attention on the detail of some body parts. In fact, as bizarre as it sounds, although everyone was naked, I felt a little under-dressed, and even under-groomed.
One of the sad realities for the curious day-tripper is that you spend at least half the time mentally re-dressing people. It can also take a while to find somebody one is actually pleased to see without any clothes on. But it’s not supposed to be about other people, it’s supposed to be about oneself, and the challenge of removing inhibitions and clothes to enjoy the freedom nature intended for us. And as challenges go, this one’s pretty enjoyable.
METIQUETTE RULES FOR THE FIRST-TIME NUDIST
“Always respect the hygiene of the furniture”, ie, do not plonk your bare bottom on communal seating.
Keep your distance while queuing in shops or cafés.
By signing the nudists’ charter at the gate on the way in to the resort, visitors promise not to behave in “a sexually aggressive manner” towards fellow guests. The charter also requires everyone to adhere to the policy of total nudity.
No staring.
Liberal application of sun cream onto private parts is advised, but over-enthusiastic rubbing is discouraged.
THE BARE FACTS
Cap d’Agde Naturist Village, www.capdagdefrance.co.uk
WHERE TO STAY Hôtel Eve, Cap d’Agde; tel: +33 (0)4 6726 7170, www.hoteleve.com Double room: €84 off-season (11 Sept– 2 May), €118 medium season (2-29 May, 29 Aug–11 Sept), €139 high season (30 May–28 Aug).
NATURIST SPECIALISTS: www.british-naturism.org.uk, www.pengtravel.co.uk
