The Effable Joy of Nudity Pt. 05

Author's advisory: Some exposition and philosophizing ahead.

Effable (adjective): (1) capable of being uttered or expressed; from the Latin effari. (2) sexually attractive; from the Old Norse fukka.

"Clothes maketh the man." (Proverb; emphasis added)

A social revolution can happen very swiftly, especially if there's a guiding force behind it. That was the case with the "Joy of Nudity".

Think of the fashion revolution started by the miniskirt. Hemlines had been gradually rising for several years, but it was Mary Quant who in 1964 designed and (importantly) wore the thigh-high icon, endowed the memorable name, and created an overnight sensation. Within a year legs were on show everywhere, helping to kick-start (bad pun intended) the sexual revolution as well.

The founder of the Joy of Nudity movement was Charlotte Reynauld. She was also its most public face... or should I say body.

My involvement had begun with the CMNF party at Charlotte's house. However, while I eventually learned more about her Empyreal Society, I remained focused on my studies. It was my third year at university that was to be my watershed. The path I took and the choices I made have continued to shape my life.

The Playboys And Bunnies event was my swan song with Jack. I won't delve into the ups and downs of our relationship. Suffice it to say that he took me to places I hadn't dared to go, or even dreamed of going; but the intensity became too much to handle. The night of the sybians, one of my post-Jack escapades, exemplified my transformation, but it was also the apogee moment of Stephanie's adventure club. I think it reached the extremity of its thrill-seeking potential without going into dark places. In fact, I think this is why I responded so positively to the Joy of Nudity and CMNF. They were so much less adrenalizing.

I shall not describe the mundane minutiae which made up most of my third year of study at uni and my life at Lakeside. It wasn't, for the most part, very exciting. So if this account seems disjointed, it's because I'm conflating details and events, and only relating the highlights.

Anyway, as I neared completion of my Bachelor of Science, I applied for entry to a Master's degree in atmospheric physics. And because I'd won a Dean's Commendation for academic achievement, I was given a free hand to pick my specific area of study. I had spent part of the previous summer break in the tropics, where I became fascinated by cyclones. So I decided my field of research would be the role of sea surface temperature in modulating ocean convection, and the effect on atmospheric circulation. Understanding this is important for predicting the generation and geographical distribution of cyclonic weather.

I had an interview with Dr Roslyn Warneke, head of the Institute of Meteorology, Oceanography and Geophysics, who would also be my thesis advisor. She's an expert in climate modelling, in particular how feedback operates in highly complex dynamic systems -- energy balance models, radiative convection models, thermodynamic and kinetic models of atmospheric flow. In other words, my field of interest. Besides that, she was a very attractive woman in her late thirties with emerald-green eyes and close-cropped henna-red hair. She was friendly and supportive; she was also unreserved, uninhibited and unconventional, even eccentric (indeed, not unlike Stephanie). Contrary to the stereotypically staid image of an associate professor, she wore miniskirts and tank tops, tie-dyed dresses and denim cut-offs. On her office wall was a framed photograph of her taken during an oceanographic expedition. Surrounded by her younger protégés, she was wearing a microbikini which left almost nothing to the imagination. I'm not being judgemental. She looked fabulous. So it was not surprising that she was a recruit to the "Strip For Charity" campaign.

I visited Ros in her office every so often to discuss my research. We got on well, our counterpole personalities meshed and we became friends. One time, after we'd talked a while she suddenly opened a desk drawer and withdrew a sheaf of pages which she fanned out on the tabletop. They were a print-out of a forthcoming edition of the campus magazine, Anecdota. (The name means "unpublished", which I guess is meant to be satirical.)

"What do you think?" There was an unfamiliar uncertainty in her voice.

The pages showed a photo spread of her in the nude. There was nothing too provocative; one might even say it was tasteful. The settings were cozily domestic -- her garden, her living room, her home office. The poses were not salacious but they were full-frontal. The cover image featured a pink, heart-shaped gift box strategically positioned over her genitalia, not large enough to cover all of her pubic hair. The inside pictures were uncensored. Her expression throughout was comfortable and confident, not coy or coquettish.

I wasn't sure how to respond. She was very good-looking with impeccable contours; and the absence of tan lines indicated that she was not unaccustomed to open-air nudity; but I knew this wasn't the feedback she was seeking. Even so, her next question, asked before I'd answered the first, was rather charming in its forthright naïveté.

"Too much hair?"

I guessed she was referring to her pubes. I shook my head.

We were silent for a moment. I thought for a second or two that she might be about to apologize for bringing this up, for putting me on the spot.

"It's for a good cause," she said.

The article was headlined "Strip For Charity" and was accompanied by the logos of two philanthropic foundations.

I wondered if her words were a justification, or perhaps a solicitation because she added "There are other good causes. You have a soft spot for animals, don't you?"

This is when it occurred to me that she must have known, or suspected, that I was not exactly an unenlightened in these matters. Of course, public nudity was an order of magnitude more intrepid than anything I'd been up to so far.

Hardly more than a year ago a pictorial such as this might have caused a stir on campus. By now, however, dozens of staff and students had appeared naked in the magazine as part of the "Strip For Charity" campaign. Indeed, the concept was neither novel nor very controversial. Its origins lay in the charity nude calendar, which began years ago as a light-hearted gimmick and quickly became mainstream, even respectable. The cheeky humour and benevolent purpose defused accusations of exploitation and objectification. Female members of the academic staff, as high up the hierarchy as professors and deans, were eventually recruited to bare all for a good cause. Ros was one of the first of the senior academics to do so. This was smart publicity because these women were not buxom bimbos, vacuous attention-seekers or artless ingénues. On the other hand, the risqué motif was audacious and uncompromising. There was no shrinking from the display of nipples and pubes. It was fun, it was irreverent, it was transgressive.

Anecdota was normally a free publication, paid for by the Student Union; but a small subscription was charged for the Strip editions and a lot of money was raised. Among those who adorned the pages, the highest ranking was Professor Suzanne Willems, Dean of the Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities. Some wowser (that's Australian for "puritanical grouch") brought a pornography complaint before the University Senate, but the governing dignitaries passed a resolution offering their approval. It was nice to be part of such a progressive community.

There arose some disquiet that only women were featured. In response, two issues appeared with male subjects. The first was almost demure, with some very fine bare chests but not a penis in sight. The second was more daring. Still, these were much less successful than the female nudes. Both sexes supported the campaign and it became trendy to strip for charity. The pictorials were erotic, sure, but there was a wholesome appeal which made them acceptable.

Then before anyone really knew what was happening the "Joy Of Nudity" movement appeared, propagated and proliferated. The message was aimed directly and specifically at women. The full title was: "Embrace Your Femininity: Experience The Joy Of Nudity." It took hold at the university quickly and inclusively due to a combination of circumstances. But lest this turn into a sociology lesson, I shall skim quickly over the details. Student enrolment was almost two-thirds female (one of the most asymmetrical sex ratios of any university in the country). There was a large in-residence student body, on an isolated campus insulated from "conventional" society. Females were perennially underrepresented in student governance by virtue of an archaic constitution despite our preponderance in numbers; and so we were ready for some symbolic act of self-assertion.

Nudity in public was quickly consolidated as an expression of female strength and virtues. We embraced our femininity; we flaunted our sexuality; we glorified, sanctified and mythologized our sensual nature; ostentatious womanhood became the centrepiece of our identity. And a key element of this lifestyle we created was that the nudity be asymmetrical, or one-sided. CMNF was our philosophy and ideology.

My personal public debut was a photo shoot of the Lakeside House Committee.

What made Lakeside distinctive among the student residences on campus was that it was autonomous and organized on a self-help basis. There were no full-time paid staff. All residents contributed to day-to-day operations with a roster for catering and maintenance duty, and in addition to the peer support programs the seniors provided tutoring and mentoring. So the student-elected LHC exercised considerable authority.

I had thought I'd sated my taste for student politics in my school days. I therefore decided to try for a seat on the LHC only because of the disappointing revelation that few residents were motivated to take an active role in governance. As a result, when I nominated, for want of competition I was automatically appointed. But while I hadn't won a glorious electoral victory, having signed up I was determined to do a good job. Fortunately, even if Lakeside residents were reluctant to get involved in administration, everyone pitched in to keep the place running smoothly.

There were twelve of us on the Committee, eight girls and four guys (which mirrored the sex ratio of Lakeside residents). Complementing the standard group photo, we were persuaded to do a Strip For Charity series. Somewhat to my surprise, all of us girls agreed. The nudity was fearlessly full-on; and it became a stereotypic "glamour" shoot when the guys joined us dressed in tuxedos. One particularly racy sequence had us females draped over the males and with our limbs intertwined. Sliding my bare thigh over my Committee colleague's trouser leg, pressing my naked breasts against the lapels of his jacket, while being photographed for the visual indulgence of thousands of students, I had never felt more exposed, and rarely more aroused.

Interestingly, the photography session had a large audience. It was held in the rotunda on the lawn outside Lakeside Hall, and no attempt was made to exclude spectators. We didn't object, for in a way it made sense, since our bodies were to be public property anyway.

That we were all prepared to reveal ourselves so completely has led me to believe that the spirit of CMNF tends to be contagious; but maybe it can only happen on a campus like ours. It was not the result of community, cultural or peer pressure, but rather a self-release from social inhibitions and personal hang-ups. There was always some embarrassment, so you can't blame exhibitionism. But I think there was also some (for want of a better word) self-congratulation involved. We could tell ourselves that we were making a sacrifice, surrendering our most private space, for a good cause... But mostly it was fun! At first it was treated as a sexy lark, a brazen adventure, an exercise in audacity. But once we, both sexes, had become habituated to the nudity and its one-sided nature, while the initial excitement of saucy indecorum waned, the enthusiasm, the pleasure and the joy never have.

Of course, our rebellion quickly evolved, as is the way of all revolutions, into the new conformism. Nudist vogue, as one might call it, spread rapidly. Conditions on the campus happened to be perfect for it; and the joy of nudity became inextricably linked with its one-sided interpretation. The logic was that the greatest possible contrast between the sexes is when the male is fully clothed and the female is fully naked. Nudity became the trademark, so to speak, of femininity. That was the essence of the philosophy of "genderism". And here Charlotte Reynauld re-enters the scene.

For it was around this time that I discovered three important things. Firstly, as I've mentioned, Stephanie's adventure club had close ties with the Empyreal Society, which had been created by Charlotte. Secondly, Charlotte was very prominent in the Guild, a social, professional and business network which sponsored Lakeside Hall. (Despite her relative youth, she was a successful businesswoman, which explained her big, fine house). Thirdly, she was the director of an independent research foundation, the Institute for Genderism Studies.

Charlotte's role in the Institute was not mere dilettantism. She had serious academic credentials. The charter states: "The key focus of research is the sociological, anthropological and ideological origins, expressions and impact of genderism in a social, political and cultural context. The substantive basis of genderism is the binary nature of gender." In other words, genderism studies focus on the origins, expressions, implications and impact of gender identity and differences in a social, political and cultural context. This includes: behavioural differences between the sexes and genders; the role of biology and culture in the construction of gender identity; perceptions and expressions of sexuality, masculinity and femininity; gender identity, gender roles and sexism. However, while transgenderism and transsexuality, intersexuality, gender variance and non-conformance are not precluded or excluded, the substantive basis of genderism concerns the binary aspects of gender.

Charlotte Reynauld was the common thread interlacing the three organizations -- the Society, the Guild and the Institute. But this was no hydra-headed monster; and there was nothing sinister lurking behind the scenes. Even a large campus is a comparatively small, compact, homogeneous community with lots of connections and interrelationships.

Nevertheless, there was, at first, some resistance to the Strip for Charity campaign and the Joy of Nudity movement. And it's interesting that in a short time, whereas the self-appointed guardians of morality and conventional standards and self-proclaimed protectors of womanhood remained firmly opposed, the opposition from feminists subsided and soon transformed into support. While many women (and some men) understandably had qualms about the asymmetric nature of the nudity, they acknowledged that it was consensual and accepted that it was self-affirming and even empowering. And for this I could take some credit, via an article I wrote for Anecdota with the verbosely cumbersome title, "Between Playboy and the Ayatollah, the Bikini and the Burkha -- CMNF as Fin de Cycle in the Liberation of Female Sexuality." The gist was that we females should take absolute control of our bodies and our sexuality and assert our femininity, if necessary in the most unrepentantly in-your-face manner.

I wrote this during my sojourn at the Institute of Genderism Studies Summer School.

I finished my third year more than pleased with myself, having completed my BSc and successfully applying for admission to the Master's degree. But at the height of my elation, I received the bad news that Stephanie and I were breaking up. After graduation she was leaving Lakeside Hall and the university. Besides being my best friend, she had been my inspiration for embracing the joy of nudity.

As well as coping with my loss, I had to find a new roommate. With my advancement to postgraduate status came promotion to more spacious accommodation in Lakeside's east wing. Each apartment has two tiny bedrooms or a larger single room, a kitchenette, a lounge-dining area and even its own bathroom, although that's just a cubicle with a shower and sink. We could choose our own roomie, or else take pot luck. This had worked out when Stephanie and I were randomly put together, so I thought I might as well try to repeat the luck of the draw. But the magic could not be recaptured, and after two failed attempts I invited my newly acquired boyfriend to move in with me.

In any case, I did not occupy my new domicile until the start of the new academic year. Instead I spent the vacation at the Summer School. It was to here that my growing interest in CMNF drew me. There were classes and seminars on the theme of genderism, with each participant preparing a paper to be delivered at a colloquium. There would also be plenty of time and opportunities for socializing.

I've always had eclectic interests and abilities, which meant that in planning my academic program I had been spoilt for options of courses and subjects. In the end I decided on meteorology, but I could just as easily have gone into mathematics, astronomy, history/archaeology or anthropology. So the Summer School gave me the opportunity to work in an area outside my chosen discipline as well to savour a completely different lifestyle.

The Institute is funded by a private foundation but is loosely affiliated with the university's Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities. Tuition is provided by permanent and visiting academic staff, including several doing postgraduate and postdoctoral research. There are no classes per se, but the Institute puts on genderism-themed lectures and seminars for both post- and undergrad students, most of whose regular studies follow the more "traditional" curricula. On-site accommodation is provided in twin-share rooms for forty-eight students, those who wish to immerse themselves in the lifestyle espoused by the Institute's founders. Some of these places are freed up during the summer vacation, allowing neophytes such as myself to sample the experience.

The interview for my admission was held in a second-floor suite of offices at the university rather than at the Institute's off-campus headquarters. It was a Saturday afternoon and the place seemed empty.

There were three of us candidates, two females and a male. I immediately recognized Lorelei, from the CMNF and sybian parties. We arrived at the same time. We didn't say anything, but Lorelei and I exchanged smiles. The guy -- who I later learned was Tim -- looked at me with a curious expression, but as soon as our eyes made contact his flitted off to one side. We took our seats and nervously waited. After a few minutes a door at the far end of the hallway opened and from it emerged a woman who introduced herself as Professor Amanda Reyne, Deputy Director of the Institute. She was attractive, aged in her mid-to-late forties; and she was naked. I shouldn't have been taken aback, considering where we were and there was no likelihood of strangers wandering in off the street. Nevertheless, it was still something of a shock. Of course, I was then not surprised when she politely asked Lorelei and me to take off our clothing. I removed my dress and undies and, emulating the barefoot professor, my sandals.