I bared all at a nudist festival – I was mistaken for a swinger & willies were everywhere but key moment left me howling

HORNY swingers or wholesome fun? Fabulous’ Senior Writer Donna Smiley, 43, lets it all hang out at a naked festival to find out why naturism is booming in the UK.

Throwing my arms in the air on the packed dance floor, I sing along at the top of my voice to the ‘70s classic YMCA.

I’m not in a nightclub or at a house party, though – I’m at a naked disco and, bar a thong to protect my modesty, I’m completely starkers.

Around me, boobs and willies of all shapes and sizes bounce around to the beat of the music. 

It sounds like one of those nightmares where you look down at yourself at an important event and realise to your horror that you’re naked.

But I’m actually at the EveryBody Festival, an initiative held by British Naturism, which celebrates all things naked.

Held annually in a beautiful, secluded, woodland in Dorset, the festival has been running for two years and is part of British Naturism’s action-packed calendar of nudist events around the UK.

Four nights long, its daily activities range from yoga, gong baths and rounders, through to a nightly disco and acoustic music tent for up to 500 of the UK’s 6.75 million (and growing) naturists. 

When I’d shared my plans with friends, reactions veered towards the “are you crazy?” end of the spectrum.

One mate told me I should definitely keep my pants on so strangers didn’t see my genitals, while another asked if I was worried people might start having sex all around me.

I actually felt relaxed about what I’d signed up for – I sunbathe topless on holiday and love the occasional skinny dip.

Still, as the train pulls into the station and I pick up my small bag containing three pairs of pants, a towel and some toiletries, the nerves hit.

Am I supposed to just whip off my dress on arrival?

Are knickers OK if I don’t feel quite ready to go the full monty?

After dropping off my bag at my glamping tent, I head to the fire pit wearing the dress I’ve arrived in, where I find a group of naked people of all ages chatting.

A couple in their 20s explain they attended the event last year and had such a great time, they decided to come again. 

The woman tells me she attends naturist events because they make her feel at ease in her own body, and less judged than when she’s wearing clothes.

Everywhere I look, there’s a willy

Donna

I can soon see exactly what she means.

No one is looking anyone else up or down, or judging their body – they all seem too swept up in the euphoria of being naked themselves.

Next up, a welcome quiz in the indoor bar.

By now around half of the 200 attendees are completely bare, and with more men than women by around 10 to one, everywhere I look, there’s a willy. 

Heading to the bar, I order and swiftly drink two double gin and tonics for courage.

Over the next hour, more people begin to take off their clothes.

When a woman on my quiz team, Rachel*, 43, a civil servant, strips off her top, I tell myself to just get on with it and step out of my dress, leaving my knickers on.

A handful of others, all women, have also kept their shorts or pants on, too. 

I expect people to stare, but nobody even notices, which is incredibly liberating.

After the quiz, we all hit the dance floor.

I’m amazed how natural it feels to be surrounded by jiggling bits and bare bums and feel swept up in the joy of the moment.

‘I feel safe even though there are naked men everywhere’

The next day, I stroll around the festival – still in just my pants – and watch people play dodgeball, sunbathe and do yoga in the buff.

Just as I’m contemplating how wholesome it all is – and how unfair that naturism gets slated for having sleazy, sexual undertones – I’m approached by two 40-something couples I’d met at the disco.

“I knew you were a swinger,” says one of the women to my shock.

It turns out my towel, which I’m carrying around to lie on for sunbathing, has upside-down pineapples on it and unbeknown to me, they’re a sign used in the swinging community to denote you’re “up for it”.

Who knew? 

The couples are very understanding when I break the news that I am, in fact, not there to swing, and say they’re surprised the atmosphere isn’t more sexually charged – like me, they’re nudist festival virgins.

In fact, there are strict rules in place to ensure people’s safety.

General photography is not allowed and there is a 24/7 Safe Space tent.

That one blip aside, I feel totally safe even though I’m sleeping alone in a tent, in a dark wood surrounded by naked men.

Mostly in their 50s and 60s, they are far more interested in talking about their kids, jobs and sharing food and drink.

Over lunch, I chat to Helen Berriman, 49, British Naturism’s women’s executive officer, who made headlines after appearing fully nude on Good Morning Britain last May, and asked her why there are so many more men than women.

“It’s a work in progress,” she says.

“Traditionally, women have been concerned with being objectified or too self-conscious about revealing their bodies.”

But that is changing.

She explains that she started running women-only events, including naturist holidays, which are so popular they’ve already sold out for next year.

‘I realise my bikini bottoms have untied at the side and vanished’

Meanwhile, content creators Nick and Lins, who travel around the world documenting their lives as naturists and have 80,000 YouTube followers (follow them @n_wanderings), tell me they started posting to dispel the myth that it’s all middle-aged white men. 

“I love it. It’s a simple way of life. You don’t have to think about anything except where your towel is,” says Lins. 

As the weekend goes on, I’m inclined to see her POV.

The finale of my trip is a visit to Splashdown Water Park in Poole, a 20-minute drive from the camp, which is booked out for a larger British Naturism event.

Lowering myself into a rubber ring, I launch into the lazy river ride but when I feel a cold blast of water on my cheeks, I realise my bikini bottoms have untied at the side and vanished.

For the first time since I arrived, I am completely naked.

“My pants are gone!” I shout to the man next to me.

We both burst out laughing as he replies: “It’s not as though you need them, is it?”

A woman whirling past tells me she’s handed them to the lifeguard.

“Sod it,” I say, “it’s time to go the whole hog!”

Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it

Donna

Part of me can’t believe I’m doing it, the other part thinks it’s brilliant. 

Boarding the train home, I feel sad to be leaving the non-judgemental atmosphere behind. No one’s asked me what I do for a living, if I’m married, where I live, or if I have children – and that’s a refreshing change. 

Being around so many types of bodies has boosted my own confidence and given me an insight into why naturism is such a growing trend.

There’s something so freeing, so joyous, about stripping off.

My advice?

Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. 

For more info, visit Thisiseverybody.co.uk/everybody-festival.

*Name has been changed