Sofie Louise is a trained sex and libido coach who is passionate about supporting women to access more desire, pleasure and radiance in the bedroom.
I was doing the flat hunting dance a couple of years ago when I found a house with an unexpected feature to it. I was informed that this group of three mixed-gender housemates were currently operating their home as a clothing optional space.
I grew up in a religious, middle-class household where clothing was certainly compulsory, but even as a teenager, when I was home alone I was quick to strip off. I’ve always found it to be more comfortable to ditch the too-tight waistbands and bra straps, and cut down on my laundry in the process.
So when this piece of information was shared with me, I felt like I’d found the perfect house to live in. Not just because of their acceptance of the human body in its natural form, but also because of my correct assumption that people who didn’t care about nudity were also likely to be open-minded, accepting people.
Before moving in, I was informed of the specific “rules” of the house that ensure that everyone feels safe and comfortable enough to strip off.
Put a towel down if you want to sit on a shared surface without clothes on, get dressed when there are people coming over, and don’t stare. Perhaps most importantly, it was clarified that this is strictly non-sexual. Nudity does not equate to sexual desire or consent in any way.
I was also informed that this was by no means something that I needed to partake in if I wanted to move in. They’d had housemates in the past who had no interest in naturism, but weren’t at all concerned by the prospect of being around naked bodies in platonic interactions.
I’m now two years into living in this space with no plans to leave, and nothing feels more normal to me than being nude around my housemates.
Stuff
Sex and libido coach Sofie Louise.
We may lie naked in the backyard in summer, stroll from the shower to our rooms without needing to do the awkward “I-forgot-my-towel-dash,” or partake in some naked yoga, but after you’re around it for a while, you hardly even notice the lack of clothes.
Everything else about this house is exactly as you’d expect a space of four 20 to 30 year olds to operate. And in reality, there’s much less nakedness going on than many people would assume, particularly in the colder months of the year.
The only time I become distinctly aware of this feature that differentiates our household from many others is when we’re looking for a new housemate. We’ve put a lot of consideration into how best to break the news to those who come by to check out the house, but very few people actually bat an eyelid at our disclosure.
While this kind of household isn’t for everyone, I’ve personally found that joining spaces where clothing isn’t required has done wonders for how I view my body.
Whether it’s in my own home, at a nudist beach or a naturist club (locations around New Zealand where naturists can play tennis, hold social events, rent plots of land and more), I’ve seen a lot of bodies that aren’t “Instagram-perfect”.
So many of us are primarily exposed to body types through the media that appear flawless. But take one step onto a nudist beach and you’ll realise how poorly that represents the actual population. The more diverse bodies that I see, the less I care about my own physical differences.
It’s well known that criticising and judging your body has significant detrimental impacts on mental health and wellbeing. However, it also has tangible consequences for your sex life. Desire, arousal, orgasm and overall sexual satisfaction all take a hit when you dislike your body.
One way that I coach my clients to feel more body-love is by tapping into gratitude. For someone who dislikes their belly, this could mean appreciating how your stomach digests all your food for you. In a naturist sense, this can include gratitude for how nice the sun feels on your whole body, or how the act of being naked can contribute to a sense of freedom and liberation.
If creating a more positive outlook on your body through naturism sounds appealing to you, one of New Zealand’s many nudist beaches could be a great place to start. You’re free to strip off as many articles of clothing as you’re comfortable with, and leave whenever you’re ready. My personal favourite is Little Palm Beach on Waiheke Island, where you’ll find couples, families and dogs all creating a safe, welcoming and naked environment.
Pack a picnic, bring along some friends and give it a go. You might find yourself living in a clothing-optional household before you know it.
