Simone walked up to Léo. "You lost," she said, smiling. "But you dropped your towel."
Third place went to a woman named Brigitte who had juggled oranges for Le Petit Quelque Chose (she got a 9.0 for whimsy). Second place was Gérard, for his unshakable good cheer. First place, by a unanimous vote, went to Simone—the old librarian who had turned silence into a prayer. french naturist contest
Third was , a twenty-three-year-old engineering student who had come only because his friends dared him. He was pale as brie, with the gawky self-consciousness of a heron. He kept trying to cover his chest with a towel, which, in the rules of the contest, was an immediate point deduction. Simone walked up to Léo
Gérard went first. He puffed out his chest. "The uniform of the postman is heavy," he bellowed. "But here? No letters, no bills, no complaints. Only the wind on my skin and the sun on my soul!" He struck a pose. The crowd applauded. Judge René gave a 9.2 for L’Intégrité . Second place was Gérard, for his unshakable good cheer
"I… I thought being naked was about having the perfect body," he said, his voice cracking. "But you’re all… just people. With knees and scars and happy bellies. And the donkey stole my boule." A ripple of laughter. "So I guess… being naked is just about being here. All of me. And that’s… okay."
The contenders for the "Pine Cone d'Or" were three very different souls.
In the shallow, sun-drenched coves of the French Mediterranean, near the famed village of Cap d’Agde, the annual Grand Concours de la Naturiste Amicale was about to begin. This was not a contest of beauty, but of joie de vivre —a celebration of living unburdened by seams, zippers, and the tyranny of tan lines.