In the early sixties we went to the south of France and visited L'Isle d'Hyeres, a famous naturist island. All around were people in all states of dress or undres. By the time we had been there half-an-hour we could not have told you whether a couple we had just passed were wearing anything or not, but we had admired their hair-styles - matching, long, straight and flowing, held back by a braid round the forehead, Red Indian style (but no feathers)
We could not remember how much of them was visible, but it was tanned golden. Walking separately in the sand dunes, however, were several dead-white podgy blokes with expensive cameras and binoculars hanging round their necks, looking nonchalantly shifty.