Naked Instinct: The joy of middle-aged nudity
Tracey gets her kit off in Greece and reminisces about her pert years
Under an inky Greek sky, a silvery shimmer of light from the crescent moon illuminates my big white tits as they bob about in the water. Delighted with myself, I call out “take a picture!” to Carrier, who frankly refuses to indulge my thirst.
We're in Naxos staying at the Naxian Collection, a glorious boutique hotel just outside Naxos Town where they have kindly furnished us with the most beautiful villa with its own pool. I know. Ridiculous scenes. On our first night, bolstered by a few excitable wines, we did what probably many residents have done before us and swam naked under the moonlight.
Swimming as nature intended is magical. Like a spiritual douche, it's one of life's greatest pleasures and I urge everyone to do it as often as they can.
Nakedness is just one of the many things I'm enjoying about getting older. I like the freedom that comes with not giving a shit anymore.
Over six foot tall and with hips you could pull a plough on, I can now accept and even admire my body. Now in its 53rd year, I'm proud of it. This baggy sack of skin has grown three people in it – two at the same time! – it has run marathons, climbed mountains, swum under ice, and has suffered more than its fair share of debilitating hangovers, but so far (and touch wood) it has never let me down.
It was lockdown that sparked the nude renaissance. A swathe of celebrities, including Ulrika Jonsson, Kelly Brook, Rita Ora and Liz Hurley all publicly professed to being fans of sunbathing in the altogether. According to British Naturism, the national naturist organisation, 1 in 4 people have sunbathed naked and 1.2 million people describe themselves as a naturist, roughly the same number as members of the Church of England. Make of that what you will.
I grew up in Seventies suburbia when parents bits and bobs were largely kept, rather pearl-clutchingly, under wraps. I was twenty before I exposed my body publicly.
It was Mallorca, July 1992 and still tipsy from the night before, my friends and I decided to go topless. Flinging off my bikini top and jumping into the pool, I can remember how liberating and natural it felt. That summer, I had a strapless tan and perky tobacco brown tits. Sigh.
I then moved to Hong Kong and lived in a flat in Sheung Wan with some of the best people on the planet. Summer in Hong Kong was ridiculously hot. We lived on the fifth floor, so it was rare that anyone walked through the door fully clothed and not swinging a damp bra off their little finger. After my first month, I'd been exposed to more bare boobs than a teenage boy with his first copy of Razzle.
On my return to England, kids came along and I never seemed to have the opportunity to get the girls out again. Until a couple of years ago. On a family holiday near Pampelonne Beach, St Tropez – where Brigitte Bardot started the trend for topless sunbathing in 1958 – I was tempted to let the pups hang loose, but my son threatened to call the authorities.
Apart from the lack of tan lines, swimming or sunbathing nude feels empowering as a middle-aged woman. 'There’s a lot of research that points to social nudity being good for well-being,' says integrative therapist Abbey Robb, (abbeyrobbtherapies.co.uk). 'It can destroy the constructed image that people have ‘perfect’ bodies. People put a lot of effort into concealing their ‘flaws’ and when you see them naked you realise that there’s such a wide range of body types, everyone’s built differently, proportioned differently and that there’s a lot to appreciate aesthetically.'
After the first lockdown, when overseas travel was limited, I was commissioned to write a story about nude sunbathing on my local naturist beach. Despite living nearby, my only experience of Brighton's famous nudist beach was when my dog, Miss Babs, ran on to it and tried to play fetch-the-stick with a naked man. Repeatedly.
I remember feeling nervous as I walked towards it. What if I knew someone? Or someone recognised me? I approached the bank of pebbles and took a peek over - there were probably 30 or so men and women of all ages sunbathing naked, bar the odd one or two who were just topless.
I thought I'd just go topless and see how I feel but within a couple of minutes, thrilled by the thought of baring all, I whipped off my bikini bottoms too. I lay down on my sarong and sniggered into the pebbles. It felt amazing. And no one batted an eyelid. It felt like I had joined a secret club. There was no staring or catching anyone's eye, there's an unspoken respect.
I was a 20 metres away from the water, which looked heavenly; calm, cool and crystal clear. There were a few nudies splashing about in the shallows so in for a penny in for a pound, I pulled on my beach shoes and proudly strutted down to the water and dived in. Swimming naked in my sea with the sun beating down on my bare bottom was an absolute game-changer.
Back on the beach, an older gentleman asked me how the water was. 'Absolute heaven,' I said, aware that he was dressed and I wasn't. He laid out his towel, peeled off his clothes to reveal that he's wearing a very small blue belt on his penis. I took this as my sign to leave. But would I do it again? Damn right I would. Like Ulrika, I'm a complete nudie convert, just don't tell the kids...
Tracey bloody Davis...I hope you & those sunshine loving pups of yours are all in the finest of fettles!?! It's been waaaayyyyy too long since I've set eyes on either you or them, so maybe we can put that right the next time I come up & see my mate in Hove! 🤪
Thanks Tracey! I enjoyed this. You reminded me of my first time - nudist beach in Mykonos 1980's - how difficult it was to take my bikini bottoms off at first - and then, yes, how liberating!