August is done, the 83 of the Var is once more the most common matriculation on the road and the resorts have a distinct end-of-season feel.
Does it mean that on the isle of Levant, a ridge measuring 8km x 1.2km opposite Le Lavandou, the solitary municipal police officer, Dominique Poey, will be able to relax again?
It rather depends on whether the nudists who have been making Officer Poey's working life a little more lively of late depart for the mainland or retreat to designated naturist areas of the island.
Three times during August, Levant's custodian of the peace felt obliged to step in and slap summary fines on individuals who, he considered, took the island's 80-year tradition of tolerance towards nudists too far.
The first €38 fine was imposed on one of the chaps running the Héliopolis Bazaar, which sells food as well as souvenirs and newspapers. The second was demanded from a tourist, present in the shop, who refused to dress when ordered to. And the third culprit was Elizabeth Varet, president of Levant's naturist association, who was collared, or rather fined for not being collared or in any other way attired, in a bar adjacent to the bazaar.
"For 25 years since I took office, I've never had to issue Procès-verbals for people infringing the bylaw 1978 (1)," the officer told Var-Matin. "In the past, I talked to naturists and they complied.
"But, after several warnings this summer, this is too much. I have merely applied the rules. In early summer, a letter from the mayor of the Hyères also called for increased monitoring food stores and restaurants."
I don't know much about crime on Levant. I believe some 90 per cent of the land mass is dedicated for military use, but suspect that the nocturnal activities of well-behaved young French servicemen do not resemble those of the harder Catterick Camp lads I remember from my youth.
So poor Officer Poey may be left with little to do unless the naturists decide to keep up the pressure.
Héliopolis is the name of the little town on Levant and has been known as a location dedicated to naturism, Europe's first of its kind, since it was created as such by two doctors of medicine, Gaston Durvill and his brother André in 1931.
Traditionally, the food shop and other public places close to the harbour and square have been designated as non-naturist locations, where the dress code became what is known as le minimum. It seems the naturists wish to extend their ascendancy from the beaches, where going nude is de rigueur, to the whole of the non-military section of the island.
Mme Varet has suggested that since the town's square is named after the doctors, they would be spinning in their graves at recent events.
On the other hand, there are residents who feel the nudists were acting with a bit of bare-faced cheek.
Christophe Chevallier, secretary of one association, is quoted as saying: "A trader who does not respect basic hygiene rules by serving naked in his grocery store was fined and rightly so.
"We do not want to see Le Levant turned into a place where nudism is compulsory everywhere ... the charm of the island lies in village life where tolerance, probably the best qualifier of naturism, is the watchword. Everyone does what he wants in private, but not in public."
An amusing enough tale. I admit that I do not feel very strongly about the principles at stake, though would add that Levant is already - on my very rough test of knowing what I like - the least attractive of the three islands opposite us, Port-Cros and Porquerolles seeming rather prettier.
Such are the imperfections of most unclothed human bodies that those two islands would seem a lot prettier still, by comparison, if it became impossible to go anywhere on Levant without encountering them.
But I do like the French naturists' word for those funny people who choose to wear clothes: les textiles.
Recent Comments