Everyone was fully nude
My time as an intimacy coordinator on a rom com about nudists
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From my forthcoming book, How to Do Consent Without Sounding Like A Robot from North Atlantic Books. Fall, 2026. Preorder here.
“Are you part of the crew?” a man asked me, fully nude.
“Yes.”
“Great. I’m John. I’m a journalist working on an article about nudist resorts. Would you mind talking to me a bit?”
He told me that nudist resorts are closing all over the world due to low attendance. He wants to write about this and he thought our film production gave a unique and flashy edge to his piece. People do love movies.
We’re shooting a romantic comedy about a couple who struggle to bridge the gap between her nudist family and upbringing and his conventional and somewhat uptight personality.
A man in full clothes—a textile, they call them—just asked two people in the cast if they’ve ever been on a naked cruise. He told them that he stopped going (not a textile, after all. Only for today) because the nude cruises are two to three times more expensive than the clothed ones. You’d think with less weight, the ship might require less gas…? Seems strange to me.
When we arrived, we were asked to respect the “nudity required” designated areas, given stickers to cover our phone cameras, and asked which activities we were interested in. They included karaoke, yoga, swimming, hiking, and pickle ball.
This movie is a non-union project, precisely so that the cast and crew can be and remain fully naked if they so choose. As strangers being welcomed into others’ home, we are the intruders. Being fully clothed is something of an affront to the life so many seek when they move here or visit. The most respectful thing to do would be to require nudity for everyone all the time, but that also doesn’t feel quite right.
This is a curious job for me. I’m an intimacy coordinator for TV and film. Typically, my job is to help the director achieve their vision while staying within the actors’ boundaries and comfort. I find out what the actors are okay with showing as far as nudity, and doing as far as simulated sex, and then I help the shoot go smoothly, fully close the set so no non-essential personnel are present or viewing footage on monitors, I choreograph any simulated sex, make sure we don’t see any modesty garments nor body parts that weren’t pre-approved as we shoot, and so on. I help actors communicate with each other about touch and boundaries. Ideally, this allows shooting to go smoothly and efficiently.
I have to remain professional, a beacon of etiquette and propriety, while making everyone feel comfortable, especially talking about sometimes difficult and taboo topics like bodies, sex, sexuality, vanity, and shame. I do my best to be approachable and welcoming so that people feel free to come to me not just with concerns about their body and their comfort, but also with what they might fear are stupid questions, like, “Why would a nonbinary person need a tampon?”
Today I took off my clothes for the first time. This was more than a “When in Rome” moment. This was a show of respect. I wanted to respect the community I was a guest in, and I wanted to know what it’s like to be naked in front of lots of strangers in order to do a better job for the actors I’m supporting by having a somewhat deeper understanding of their experience. While I wasn’t needed on set, I read a book on a chez by the pool and sunned bits of me that haven’t seen sunshine in years. I put sunscreen in places it’s never been. It almost felt like the sunlight was going inside me.
Being around this many naked people is so rare. And non-sexual nudity is also exceptionally rare, even in small doses. Other than the Korean spa, most of us don’t see naked people unless we’re sleeping with them or changing very quickly in a locker room.
The healing properties of nudity are clear here. Bodies are all so different, so varied. My impulse to compare my body to others’ strikes me acutely in the gut, again and again. The frequency gets me questioning my reasons for doing so. The noticing allows me to do it less. The judgment turns to appreciation, awe, admiration. I see evidence of babies born, of nipples suckled for milk, of injuries, of lives well lived. I don’t have a penis, but I kept thinking that seeing this many penises would be very healing for anyone insecure about the size of theirs.
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