Miss Naturism [2021] – Exclusive

“Miss Naturism,” he said, sliding a thin file across his desk. “The annual pageant in the south of France. Get the spirit of it. Not the… uh, anatomy. The spirit.”

She did not speak about nudity. She spoke about touch—the feel of rain on her shoulders, the pressure of wind against her back, the way river water felt different when it met every inch of her at once. She spoke about her mother, who had died of melanoma at fifty-four, and how after that, Elara had promised herself she would never again be afraid of the sun. She spoke about shame as a kind of clothing we forget we are wearing, and how taking it off is the hardest undressing there is. miss naturism

When she finished, nobody clapped. There was just a long, soft silence, and then a man near the riverbank began to weep quietly, and someone else handed him a handkerchief. “Miss Naturism,” he said, sliding a thin file

My anxiety about nudity melted into a stranger anxiety: I was the only one hiding. Not the… uh, anatomy

I opened the file. The first page showed a photograph of a woman with silver-streaked hair, standing on a rocky beach, arms raised to the sun. She was naked, but you didn’t notice that first. You noticed her smile—wide, unforced, the kind of smile you only see on people who have just finished a long swim in cold, clear water.