This is a book review of Naked at Lunch: A Reluctant Nudist’s Adventures in the Clothing-Optional World by Mark Haskell Smith.
Mark Haskell Smith’s book is an investigation into the nude sub-culture within Western society. Are we, naturists, a sub-culture? Yes, we are, but we’re more of a sub-sub-culture really, the sub-culture is that of the social nude, and we all know that there are elements of the social nude that would not be welcome within truly naturist society.
I freely admit that I liked the book. I consider that the author did an admirable job with it. That isn’t to say that there weren’t some rocky stretches along the way, there were. Smith’s use of explicit and crude language in places distracts from the message of the book and, for some readers I am sure, from its legitimacy. If it was meant to provide either emphasis or humour it fails in both categories. Then there were words that appeared so often I found them to be annoying. For instance “hipster” – does anyone really say “hipster” anymore? Maybe it is experiencing a comeback on southern California but really, it gives the book somewhat of a pre-1960 vibe whenever it is all-too-frequently used. The other one that got my knickers in a twist, which is hard to do to a naturist, was “drop trou” as a euphemism for disrobing / undressing / gittin’ nekkid! “Drop trou,” who says that? Or who says it anymore? It is another refugee from the 1960s so it may have some currency in SoCal. Who knows? These are small points indeed, just niggles, but they bothered me.
I was particularly annoyed by the quoted comment by Mark Storey early in the book where he characterizes “freedom” as being a naive, cliché and “dingbat” answer to the question of why a person likes to be naked. Had I been Smith I could not have resisted refuting such a facile and demonstrably erroneous position and make Storey defend his position on the spot. But Smith was on a learning curve at this point, so he didn’t do that. However, cleverly, in much of the rest of the book Smith goes on to do it quite adequately, Storey’s opinion notwithstanding. Story, on the other hand, is a philosopher and wants to blather on about deep meanings like de-alienation.
At times when I thought there was too much discussion of swingers and exhibitionists, but to be perfectly fair the author was not writing exclusively about naturism or nudism, but about the “clothing-optional world” – the sub-culture of the nude. Like his previous book about marijuana, Smith is writing about all aspects of a sub-culture unified by a single reference point, in this case social nudity. The fact that the hypersexualized sub-sub-cultures of swingers and fetishists are poles apart from the non-sexualized world of mainstream naturism is beside the point, those poles are connected by the thin (non-textile I’m sure) thread of social nudity.
Smith takes care to expose the seedy side of Cap d’Agde and although he points out that this is not naturism his graphic and, I consider, unnecessary description of events there cannot help but colour any uninformed reader’s picture of naturism. Balancing this out Smith underlines the hypocrisy of discrimination by (North) American resorts in their “couples only” policies. In fairness, he points out that single men often are considered suspect in Europe as well. While I consider the holy grail of gender balance to be an admirable and desirable goal the reality required to achieve it is blatant discrimination against what may well be the majority element of all naturists, the single (or at least unaccompanied) straight men who, because their wives and girlfriends (if they have both then they are swingers, not naturists) are disinclined to embrace naturism, are treated as pariahs by many clubs and resorts. Single men are often treated like the aliens in one of those dreadful sci-fi flicks from the 1950s and 1960s who are “only here for our women.” This is utter codswallop of course, but it is also one of the guiding principles of many naturist clubs and resorts.
I liked Naked at Lunch, I liked it a lot. I didn’t learn anything from it but I liked the fact that others will. The book gives a brief history of where naturism came from, how it developed and how it has branched out into several sub-sub-cultures. It is much more informative than a review of the past, and much more useful than the directory of clubs and resorts that one usually sees. I particularly liked the fact that Smith gives his readers insight into the authentic thoughts and voices of younger naturists of the present, people like Richard Foley of Naktiv and NEWT, http://www.naktiv.net/index.html/ and Karla and Stuart of Free Range Naturism http://freerangenaturism.com/ These are not the sorts of people whom I joke about as being “clubbed and beached” naturists – the old guard – but the younger and active folks trying to spread the true faith – the naturist evangelists among the clothen and the light to lighten the textiles.
I recommend Naked at Lunch. Buy it. Read it. It will give you something to do after you drop trou and are lying nekkid on your chaise beside the pool with all the other hipsters.
I went to Kellys Beach yesterday. It wasn’t a great start to the day, what with early morning showers and it being somewhat unseasonably cool, but I had hope and I was passing by anyway on my way home from a trip to the North Shore. As I approached Kouchibouguac and the day neared noon the thermometer was wobbling back and forth between 18ºC and 19ºC and the sky was a 50/50 mixture of sun and cloud, so why not. By the time I got to the parking lot the temperature registered 20ºC – neither too hot nor too cool – perfect!
Except for the three lifeguards huddled together up in track suits and hoodies, and about a dozen textiles barely less tentative about the day, the beach was empty. To be fair there was a fresh breeze blowing onshore and the surf was a bit excited so for most people, at least the kind that tend to take up one position on the sand, then lie there unmoving – like a dead whale – it might seem a bit cool. But the wind and surf have another effect, that of throwing dead and living sea creatures ashore, which attracts the terns, gulls and sandpipers to make the beach much more appealing by their presence and their cries.
I’m not the dead whale variety of beach person so I set off southwards along the tide line at a determined pace. I’d already lost shoes and shirt to my backpack and wanted to put the requisite distance between myself and the textiles before losing the shorts as well. One thousand paces suffices for that. I pressed onward walking along and realizing the other benefit of the wind – no flies. Bonus!
At about three kms I ditched the backpack, added some low SPF sunblock and continued southward, reaching the end of the barrier dune at a point 6.5 kms from the boardwalk without have seen another person. This was good, in that it meant no hassles with wandering textiles. It was also unfortunate, in that all those kms of white sand beach were being severely underutilized. There should have been hundreds of naturists on the beach. There is ample room for thousands. Yet there I was, alone except for the seabirds, some seals at the very end of the dune and, oh yeah, the medusids being slopped ashore by the surf. It is a good year for medusids and therefore a poor season for swimming right now. But the jellyfish will be gone by August so its no big deal.
I turned about and headed back up the beach to regain my backpack – there was still no sign of other naturists, or of textiles this far down the beach. Since I was still not inclined to simply loll about on the sand I paused to build a sangar and a stockade where there was ample driftwood and a supply of lobster buoys close to hand. It seemed the least I could do. This summer’s weather having been, so far at least, particularly suckworthy there hadn’t been many built this year. This accomplished, I trekked northward again.
In the distance I could see that the textile beach was enjoying much more business than it had when I had arrived. It wasn’t crowded but there were now some dozens of people there. When I reached the magic line in the sand – the Pudenda Line, the line at which distance people without binoculars might conceivably be able to tell if one is naked – I paused to step into a pair of shorts.
Farther up the beach, quite near the lifeguard station, I reached the first of the textiles. These people are serious consumers of fabric. Here it was, a nice day at the beach – a day on which the clothen had chosen to go to the beach – and very few of them had any skin in the game. Only a few children and a couple of women were actually wearing swimsuits. The rest were swaddled in combinations of track suits, hoodies and knee-length shorts or, in several cases, parkas! I swear to God there were people – male and female, young and old – wearing parkas on the beach. It made me feel cold just to look at these goofballs. There were two attractive young women wearing bikinis and working on their tans. Beside them sat their boyfriends huddled in fleece pants and hoodies – hoods up – shivering as though they were actually cold. Odd, the women seemed comfortable enough.
Maybe that is one of the problems of attracting young people to naturism these days – the young men are a bunch of wussies!
July 10th is Lady Godiva Day. In my opinion it should be a public holiday, but it isn’t. As second best, it should be celebrated by all naturists / nudists and other civil libertarians. I have included the day in my blog post about the “Naturist Calendar.” Let me explain why.
Lady Godiva was an actual historical person who, according to legend, on July 10th in the year 1040, rode naked through the streets of Coventry, England in order to convince her husband to abolish abusive taxes he had levied. Historians argue whether this is fact, an embellishment of a somewhat different event or a complete fiction. Well of course historians argue about it, historians argue about everything. Each has a theory and is willing to expound it while denigrating any competing theories. However, they all agree that Lady Godiva (“Godgyfu” was the original Anglo-Saxon form of the name) was a real person, the wife of Leofric, Earl of Mercia.
All social and political movements need heroes and icons. Who would be better as a heroine and icon for naturism than Lady Godiva? Who indeed? Lady Godiva is the very image of non-sexualized public nudity. Competing versions of the Godiva legend say that the Lady herself asked the people of Coventry not to violate her modesty or that the officials of the town ordered all of the people to be indoors with their doors and shutters fastened. But both versions, and others, are mere speculation. No one knows the actual circumstances of Lady Godiva’s ride.
The legend also tells that the sole person to violate Lady Godiva’s modesty was a nasty little chap named Tom, the original “Peeping Tom,” who was struck blind in divine retribution. I like this little detail. I like it a lot. Whether it is true is entirely beside the point; it reflects the opinion of the people of the era in which it was written. That is: (1) Lady Godiva’s public nudity was innocent, was done for the public good and was inoffensive to God, (2) Peeping Tom represents the minority of one who took prurient interest in her nudity and (3) God struck Tom blind in divine retribution. This is a perfect example of the Garter motto in action: "Honi soit qui mal y pense" or "shame on him who thinks evil of it." Indeed! Shame on any person who automatically connects innocent nudity with prurience.
As far as I am concerned the story of Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom records what was beyond doubt public opinion at the time: that innocent public nudity was neither a civil nor a religious crime and that God’s approval of innocent public nudity went so far as to punish prurience. At least that is the way I see it.
I consider that Lady Godiva’s ride qualifies her to be the Patron Saint of Naturism, and that her Saint’s Day, July 10, should be suitably celebrated by naturists everywhere. No, you don’t have to be a Catholic, or a Christian, or even a religious person of any variety to see it this way. When I speak of “saints” I do not refer to religious figures with supernatural powers. I speak of real human beings who stand up for or who exemplify principles that should be important to civil society. For Lady Godiva the issue was unfair taxation. For us, the principle issue is whether public nudity should be accepted for what it is, an innocent wardrobe choice, rather than for what latter day morality zealots – the Peeping Toms of our times – claim it to be, immoral. To that sorry latter group I say “Honi soit qui mal y pense.”
One of my personal favourites within the many options for free range naturism, and also of naked hiking, is what I call Stream Walking. As you might expect this involves hiking naked within or beside the course of a stream -- more often within than beside. Within New Brunswick there are a lot of options for this and I have a few favourite places of my own which, for obvious reasons, I’m not going to blab all over the internet.
The idea of stream walking is to use watercourses that are narrow enough, and shallow enough, that you need not worry about meeting powered watercraft bearing down on you at a great rate of knots. Should you encounter canoeists, kayakers or fishermen along the way such folks are likely to be more friendly toward, and perhaps more accepting of, naked hiking.
There are advantages to stream walking over naked hiking on dry land. The first of these is that you seldom have to watch for road traffic. Another advantage is that, if you happen to be surprised by someone else just around the bend in the stream, the water gives you both an excuse for being naked and an instantly available cover-up that doesn’t involve balancing on one foot at a time.
Another advantage of stream walking is that if the day gets too hot relief is just a few feet away. Any actual swimming hole that you might find enroute is a genuine bonus. Use it well and wisely.
A word about safety! Be cautious of water that is too deep to wade at knee level, currents that are too fast to ford with safety, and the dangers of foot entrapment.
Where to go?
Haul out the maps of your area and supplement them with topographical maps and a good reconnaissance using Google Earth. Time spent on planning helps provide a much better experience on the hike itself. Besides, it gives you something to do on rainy evenings.
Look for streams that are not immediately adjacent to roads, that do not crawl through muddy bogs, and that do not have their banks dotted with summer cottages. Ideally you should find streams that have a solid bottom of sand, gravel or bedrock.
Plan your trip keeping in mind that your progress through the water will be much slower than it would be if you were walking on dry land.
When to go?
You can go any time between the start of warm weather and the start of hunting season. If you are stream walking within a provincial or national park, or within a game refuge, hunting season might not be as much of a problem but still, you have to be realistic and stay safe.
Avoid the first day or two following any major rainfall as small streams can rise quickly and become unworkable for walking in the increased current and water made opaque by silt or flood debris.
What to do?
Just walking is nice but you can bring your camera for wildlife and scenery pix, or a fishing rod either for fishing or as part of your cover story. If you are carrying a fishing rod you had better be carrying a fishing licence as well. Remember, the purpose of going fishing is not necessarily to catch fish. Often it is just an excuse to sit quietly and enjoy nature.
What to bring?
Footwear – this is the item of first importance. Wear a pair of solid shoes on your feet, something that can stand being wet and will dry out to be used again. This is where your favourite old, beat up running shoes come into their own once more. Wear them laced up and securely double tied. Remember, you can’t always see the stream bottom and you don’t want to cut your feet on anything.
Walking staff – this is the second most important item you should bring. When I say walking staff I do not mean one of those skinny collapsible aluminum walking poles that you often see people dragging behind them. There is a reason that collapsible poles are called collapsible – they collapse, usually when you are leaning on them. They are worse than useless; they are dangerous. No, I mean a real staff, something longer than you are tall, stronger than you are heavy, and lightweight too. I recommend (whole, unsplit) bamboo, something about 25mm (one inch) or so in diameter. You can probably buy a good bamboo pole at most decent garden supply stores – I swiped mine from a ski hill. (It was July; nobody was using it.) Use your staff to probe the bottom before you walk forward and to balance yourself against the current while you walk.
Head wear – bring a hat, even if only a baseball cap, to prevent sunburn and give your eyes the immediate shade they need to peer into the water.
Eye wear – sunglasses go with the hat and for the same reason. Polarized lenses are best for seeking through water.
Butt wear – this is part of your “cover story.” I usually carry a hiking kilt or a pair of river shorts clipped to one of the shoulder straps of my day pack for quick access.
Day pack – you’ll need this to carry your shirt, towel, sun block, bug spray, drinking water, lunch, etcetera. I always carry a map of the area as well as a small first aid kit and the usual outdoor survival items: compass, space blanket, knife, lighter, small flashlight. A cell phone is a good idea too but for goodness sake turn the damned thing OFF. Pack everything in zip-lock plastic bags in case you take an unscheduled dip. Pack everything out with you at the end of the day.
What else can I say? Have a great day! When you find a good stream share it with your naturist friends.
