The first course is . The bowls are thick ceramic. The cheese is bubbling. The broth is scalding. Watching a group of nude diners lean over steaming onion soup, the steam fogging their glasses (the only allowed accessory), creates a surreal tableau of comfort. There is no fear of spilling—hot soup on bare thighs is a great teacher of caution.
The answer lies in the philosophy of chez soi (being at home with oneself). Veteran naturist Jean-Paul, a 30-year resident of the Villages Nature group, explains: “Christmas is about returning to innocence. What is more innocent than the body we were born with? We reject the frantic consumerism of December. We reject the uncomfortable formalwear. Here, there are no velvet suits or tight dresses. There is only truth, community, and the skin you are in.” The first course is
It is the most naked, and the most holy, Christmas I have ever seen. The broth is scalding
When you imagine Christmas in France, you likely see scenes straight from a postcard: the twinkling lights of the Champs-Élysées, families bundled in wool scarves sipping vin chaud, and roaring fireplaces in alpine chalets. You picture layers—blankets, coats, thick socks. The answer lies in the philosophy of chez
By Marc LeClerc, Special Correspondent to Naturist Life International
Now, erase that image. Completely. Remove the scarves. Remove the itchy wool sweaters. Remove the fabric entirely.
This isn't sexual. It isn’t exhibitionism. It is, strictly, —the lifestyle of practicing non-sexual social nudity in private spaces. And during the holidays, it transforms into something magical. The Venue: A Hidden Naturist Estate For this exclusive feature, we were invited to a private naturist resort just outside Montpellier—an estate that normally closes to textiles in October. For three weeks in December, however, the members-only group "Les Sapins Nus" (The Bare Firs) takes over.