Last summer, I accidentally wound up at a naturist resort. After mastering the art of holding eye contact with someone whose genitals are aglow in the sunlight, I began to feel as if I’d stumbled upon the ultimate antidote to our current self-image crisis. Here, nestled in a patch of ancient woodland just outside the M25, was a rare spectacle – a community seemingly untouched by the self-hatred epidemic wreaking havoc on the rest of the world. 

Residents told me how the simple act of getting naked (naturism refers to non-sexual social nudity in private and in public) had offered them a delightful alternative to a culture where they felt expected to constantly primp and preen or hate their bodies. It allowed them to show up as they were - stretch marks, operation scars, body hair and all – and realise that their insecurities are simply mental blocks enforced by a patriarchal, capitalist and often vampirish beauty industry. In line with much of the global naturist demographic, the people I met were mostly of state pension-receiving age. Yet their lifestyle seemed so radical that I wondered – had young people discovered this too? And, if so, could it be the cure to our collective, chronic insecurity?

“I initially thought nudism was just a thing that old white people did,” says 20-year-old Chris*, who began dabbling in naturism during the pandemic. “Now I’ve found that it knows no boundaries.” He’s one of the many Gen-Z naturists who are turning to the practice to establish a better relationship with themselves and their bodies. “All expectations seem to go out the door once the clothes come off; no need to worry about any superficial details,” he adds.

21-year-old Leah, who says experimenting with naturism has functioned as a form of “exposure therapy” when battling insecurities, concurs. “It’s the most extreme form of self-acceptance, like shaving your head,” she tells Dazed. To begin with, she went to nude beaches on holiday, but now spends much of her time at home and in her room naked. “There’s nothing to hide behind. No ‘flattering’ clothes, make-up or photo editing. It’s just you, which is scary at first but then so liberating.”

“I thought that people who practised nudism were almost disgusting and that nudist beaches were full of perverted people” – Hugo

We all know by now that body image plays a huge role in our mental health, and dissatisfaction with our bodies is linked to poorer quality of life, psychological distress and unhealthy eating behaviours. Dr David Crepaz-Keay, public mental health information lead at Mental Health Foundation, says that there is emerging evidence that naturism is associated with more positive body image, higher self-esteem and, therefore, greater life satisfaction. 

“Exposure to diverse, non-idealised bodies may help reduce social physique anxiety and improve body appreciation, and early studies suggest these benefits can reflect real change over time,” he says, while adding that the evidence is still limited and we should be cautious about coming to any conclusions.

For many outsiders – like myself – there can be preconceptions attached to naturism. Mostly, they revolve around the idea that it must have sexual undertones. This is how 24-year-old Hugo*, who grew up in a “conservative” region of Italy, felt to begin with, too. “I thought that people who practised nudism were almost disgusting and that nudist beaches were full of old, perverted people. Ending up in one of them by accident was a real fear we all had,” he says. Now, he regularly goes to the beaches and nudist camp sites in his area. “I was surprised to realise how much nudity was treated in the most non-sexual way possible. I could easily talk with a stranger without paying attention to the fact that we were both naked, and it took no effort at all.”

One of naturism’s key ethos is to forge a greater connection with nature – an enticing feature given our collective need to touch more grass. Saunas and winter bathing offer similar benefits, but have been more enthusiastically adopted by the wellness industry and young professionals in East London. Naturism, by contrast, is difficult to monetise and therefore less likely to be made into a trend – you quite literally need nothing to get involved. 

“When your entire body is exposed, including the parts you’re insecure about, and no one seems to care or judge you, it’s really therapeutic” – Leo

In this way, the simple act of getting naked is an almost anarchic rejection of our capitalist society, where our value is so often determined by how much we can spend. Nudity strips that away, eschewing the constant marketing and noise we’re fed about how we need to change our bodies and what we need to buy to do so.

For those of us who grew up on social media, it can also mean facing and untangling a deeply embedded dislike of ourselves. “I didn’t realise how much body shame I was holding onto until I took my clothes off for the first time,” says 29-year-old Leo*, whose interest in naturism was sparked by his experiences of skinny dipping in college. Now, he mainly practices at nude beaches or at the sunny naturist resorts in his home state of Florida. “When your entire body is exposed, including the parts you’re insecure about, and no one seems to care or judge you, it’s really therapeutic. You see a full spectrum of bodies and realise that your body is part of that spectrum.”

Unlike Hugo’s assumptions about disgusting old perverts, Ryan, 24, used to believe that you had to be “super attractive” to be nude in a public space. “But since visiting a nudist beach myself, I’ve realised it’s quite the opposite”, he says. “Everyone there was of different shapes and sizes, and there was absolutely no judgment at all. People were simply there to enjoy the freedom.”

Each day, as we learn new, unsettling terms like ‘mogging’ and ‘mewing’, we stray further from our instincts and allow weird post-incel streamers or millionaire plastic surgeons to cash in on our self-doubt. Yet naturism allows us to view our bodies not as things we have to mould to appease others, but rather as a vessel to experience and enjoy the world around us for as long as we can. 

“In all honesty, I used to hate how I looked. I was overweight and insecure,” Ryan says. “Since discovering naturism, I realise that everyone has a body, and that you should genuinely appreciate your own and take care of it.”

*Name changed for privacy