One particularly brutal January a few years ago sticks in my mind. The temperature had dropped to –12°C overnight, the pipes were groaning, and the house felt like a refrigerator. I woke up, reached for my slippers and robe as usual, made coffee… and then stopped. Something in me said, “This is ridiculous. Why am I still doing this in the dead of winter? Nobody sees me. It’s cold. Maybe naturism is just a warm weather thing after all.” For a moment I actually considered putting on sweatpants and calling it a day.
Then I remembered why I started in the first place.
It wasn’t for beaches or resorts. It was for the quiet, daily feeling of being completely at home in my own skin—free from fabric, free from pretense, free from the constant subtle message that my body needs to be hidden or improved. That feeling doesn’t take holidays. It doesn’t clock out when the thermometer drops. And on that freezing morning, I untied the robe anyway, let it fall open, and felt the familiar calm return. The cold was still there, but the deeper comfort—the real reason—was stronger.
January’s second winter post is about reclaiming that deeper “why.” Because if we only practise naturism when it’s easy and warm, we’re missing most of its gifts.
Here’s what decades of year-round nudity have taught me about why it truly matters, no matter the season. I’ve broken it down into five key areas, each with insights from my own journey to make it real and actionable.
1. It Keeps Authenticity Alive Every Single Day
Clothes are the original filter. They hide, shape, and signal. When I strip them off—even on a grey, cold day—I drop the filter. I see my body as it actually is, with its winter pallor, its scars, its softness. That honest mirror is priceless for self-acceptance. I’ve watched my own body image worries fade over the years precisely because winter forces me to face myself without summer’s flattering tan or outdoor distractions. Back in my early days, I’d bundle up in January and feel disconnected, like I was hiding from myself. Now, starting the day bare (or nearly so) grounds me—it’s a daily reminder that authenticity isn’t about perfection; it’s about presence.
Try it: pick one routine, like morning coffee, and do it robe-open or fully nude. Notice how it shifts your mindset from “I should” to “I am.”
2. It Builds Genuine Resilience and Body Trust
Learning to be comfortable when it’s 19°C indoors (instead of cranking the heat to 23°C) teaches your body to regulate temperature better. More importantly, it teaches trust: my body knows what it needs—movement, a hot drink, a patch of sun—and I listen. That trust spills into every other area of life. I remember a winter hike years ago where I stripped down midway because the sun peeked out; my body adapted quickly, and I felt empowered, not fragile. Year-round practice builds that inner strength—no more seeing cold as an enemy. It’s turned me into someone who faces challenges head-on, bare and ready.
Action step: Experiment with lowering your thermostat by a degree or two while staying nude at home. Add gentle movement like stretching to warm up naturally, and feel your resilience grow.
3. It’s One of the Simplest Ecological Acts Available
Every degree lower on the thermostat saves energy. Every day I spend mostly nude is a day I’m not washing multiple layers of clothes. Over a winter that adds up—fewer loads of laundry, lower heating bills, smaller footprint. Naturism aligns perfectly with simple, low-impact living. In my household, we’ve cut our energy use noticeably by embracing this; it’s not about sacrifice but freedom—less stuff means more life. I’ve gone from piles of winter layers to just my robe and slippers, and the planet thanks me. Plus, it connects me deeper to nature’s rhythms, even indoors.
To start: Track your laundry for a week with and without extra clothes. See the difference, and let it motivate you to go bare more often.
4. It Preserves Equality and Non-Judgment as Daily Habits
In summer we often experience naturism in social settings where everyone is bare and equal. Winter brings it back to the most intimate space: alone or with the people closest to us. That private practice keeps the mindset sharp—bodies are just bodies—so when spring arrives we’re not suddenly shocked by diversity again. For me, winter nudity at home has erased old judgments; sharing a bare evening with a partner reinforces that we’re all human, flaws and all. It’s built a foundation of empathy that carries into every interaction.
Make it habit: Reflect weekly on how nudity shifts your view of others—maybe journal a quick note. Over time, it fosters true equality, starting from within.
5. It Protects the Freedom We Love from Becoming Seasonal Nostalgia
If nudity is only for warm days, it turns into a holiday treat instead of a core value. I don’t want my freedom to be weather-dependent. Keeping the practice alive in January ensures it’s there in July—and in every decade to come. There were years when I let winter slide, and come spring, I’d feel rusty, like I had to rediscover the joy. Now, consistent practice keeps that liberation fresh; it’s woven into my identity, not just a memory.
Embrace it by setting a simple winter goal: one nude hour daily, no excuses. Watch how it safeguards your freedom year-round.
Research backs this up. The often quoted study from Goldsmiths, University of London, found that those engaging in naturist activities reported greater body satisfaction, higher self-esteem, and increased life satisfaction, with benefits increasing with more frequent practice.
The Ipsos MORI survey for British Naturism in 2022 showed that 39% of UK adults have tried nude recreation, with ongoing participation over the past year linked to improved mental health, body positivity, and overall well-being.
This month I’m launching Uncovered Tales: Naturist Short Stories Volume 1, and several of the stories explore exactly this tension—holding onto the “why” when many reasons, including the weather, tries to talk you out of it. I hope they resonate the way that cold morning eventually resonated for me.
So as we move deeper into January, let’s keep the flame alive. Not perfectly, not heroically—just authentically. One bare morning at a time.
Get Nude, Stay Nude, Live Nude and Share the Nude Love!
I won’t argue over degree numbers except to say my house is 23 degrees Celsius, 73 degrees Fahrenheit, in winter — and 25 degrees Celsius, 77 degrees Fahrenheit, in summer. I am a senior and both my wife and I have contracted bronchitis in the past. My chest needs to be protected and those few degrees do it. That’s my chest, of course; my genitalia are fine at the freezing point and below, and my fingers and toes like it somewhere in between. Everyone is different and, even at 23 degrees, my wife is clothed.