Co-founder Leo, a former tech UX designer, noticed something strange during lockdown Zoom calls: “We were all in sweats or pajamas — performative comfort. But actual nudists were either hiding it or feeling isolated. There was no ‘LinkedIn for nudists’ or ‘Meetup without pants.’”
Leo’s ultimate goal? “To make ‘naked online’ boring in the best way. Like, ‘Oh, you’re on a video call without clothes? Cool, pass the virtual coffee.’” enaturist
“Clothed or naked, the focus is on the person, not the body,” says member David, 58, a retired teacher in Cornwall. “I’ve had deeper conversations about grief, aging, and art on Enaturist than in any pub.” Naturism has long promised body acceptance. But online, where filters and curated angles reign, Enaturist faces a unique challenge: Can a nude social network avoid becoming a gallery of “perfect” naked bodies? Co-founder Leo, a former tech UX designer, noticed
“You see real bodies — scars, rolls, stretch marks, prosthetics, mastectomy scars — just living,” says Dr. Helena Ruiz, a body-image psychologist not affiliated with the platform. “That’s radically different from curated nudity on Instagram or OnlyFans. Enaturist’s mundanity is its magic.” Enaturist isn’t naive. The team employs AI blurring for unsolicited explicit poses (contradicting naturist principles but protecting against harassment). A 24/7 moderation team — all trained naturists — reviews reports within minutes. And the platform has a “digital towel” feature: users can place a pixelated overlay on any part of their body without leaving the chat. “To make ‘naked online’ boring in the best way