I’m 56 and still enjoy topless sunbathing – and why not?
We should follow the example of Mediterranean n women, says Kate Mulvey,, and let it all hang out
For midlifers like me, the usual debate about what to wear on the beach is limited to choosing between a one-piece or a bikini. Many believe 40 is the tipping point for a two-piece; others will only wear a bikini if they have also invested in a kaftan cover-up.
I fall into neither camp, preferring to ditch the bikini top altogether. I’m a firm believer that beach holidays are when you can be your best fun and carefree self. They are not the time to be fretting about the size of your belly or age of your thighs. Which is why, every year, I think nothing about getting to my sunlounger and whipping off my bikini top. I may now be 56, but I do this without any thought; completely unfazed.
So, I cheered this week when I heard that topless sunbathing has been declared a fundamental French “liberty”. Feminists, Right-wing nationalists and Leftists have been united in outrage that police had ordered women on a beach in Sainte-Marie-la-Mer to cover their breasts after a family had complained.
Absolument! Since I was 16 and on holiday in the South of France with my friends, I have been soaking up the rays sans bikini top. In the Eighties we wafted around the golden sands of Portofino and Sicily flaunting our lithe bronzed bodies wearing only skimpy bikini bottoms, an ankle bracelet and a suntan, and checking the admiring glances from local boys.
Fast forward nearly four decades and while the admiring glances are a thing of the past, skimpy bikini bottoms and not much else is still my go-to beach uniform.
Don’t worry, I am more than aware that my days of beach babe chic are well and truly over. Like most women, my body has changed, with middle-aged spread and saggy bottom syndrome being just two of the hard-to-tackle areas.
But that doesn’t mean I have to cover up. No way. To me sunbathing topless is part of the holiday experience. It is also the only way you’re going to avoid those white triangles and get an all-over tan. I am careful to cover up with sunscreen to avoid burning, but there is nothing like a full-body sunkiss to make you feel and look healthy. And vitamin D, as we know, is very good for you. Of course, not everyone agrees with my bare-it-all approach. I distinctly remember several years ago on holiday in Majorca with my then fiancé and a few other couples. As I stripped off, some of the men gawped, and a few of the women tutted and whispered amongst themselves, seeing it as some sort of come-hither gesture to their balding hubbies. Dear reader, it most certainly was not.
My topless love affair isn’t about anyone else but me. After months of
being caged in underwired bras and layers of woollens, I find it liberating to feel my body drinking in the golden rays. There is something about heat and near nakedness that makes me feel fun and footloose. Why should it matter whether I’m 26 or 56?
The truth is the beach is a sort of fantasy land where normal rules don’t apply. We’re all half naked in a public setting anyway, so really it’s more about being context appropriate than age-inappropriate.
Also, I do find it a peculiarly British trait to feel uncomfortable around topless sunbathing. Our collective guilt about our bodies – its apogee during the Victorian era – has persisted at a subliminal level to this day. For some reason we still see nudity and breasts as something out of a Carry On film – more nudge nudge wink wink than something celebratory and sensual. All this is usually manifested on holiday in a series of ill-fated sarong purchases to cover up any sight of dimpled flesh.
Our European friends have a somewhat different attitude. Go to any Mediterranean beach and you will see all generations of women, grannies among them, happily walking along the shore, groups of young women chatting in the sea – many in bikinis, some topless, no one really caring about what they look like. This collective unabashedness about their bodies, whatever size and shape, is so much healthier and more attractive than the fretful beachgoer worrying if she’s showing too much for her age.
Maybe I’m just an old hippie, out of step with the times. It is rather shocking to hear the latest call to cover up happened on a French beach and maybe there is a new vogue for prudishness. Still, I am comforted to hear that French women aren’t taking this lying down and that there is a backlash of sorts. Because, at the end of the day, going topless is about freedom. The freedom to be who you want, and wear what you want, whatever your age. Now where are my gold lamé bikini bottoms?