Popular bath culture traditions are making their way across the ocean to the United States and Canada.
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gust of hot air, a waving towel, and the iconic lyrics of “Son of a Preacher Man”, all scented with the burnt chicory aroma of Austrian beer. It’s early September, but the Otztal Valley has already succumbed to snow, so instead of the hike I had planned, I now find myself ensconced in the beer-infused dry heat of a sauna. Only this is no ordinary sauna by North American standards. It’s me alongside fifty mixed-gender strangers…and we’re all naked.
It took me two days to feel comfortable enough to venture into Sauna World, the nude section of the Aqua Dome spa. While patrons may don robes or towels when walking between the various pools and saunas, the expectation is that you are naked whenever in the pool or sauna, something that can be an uncomfortable experience for us prudish North Americans.
That prudishness is never more on display when it comes to European bathing culture, a trend that is currently on the rise in North America, with many more spa experiences across the United States and Canada offering clothing-optional experiences.
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While waiting to enter the sauna, I’m on tenterhooks, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer I stand outside the entrance. My trembling, robed body is a far cry from the confidence in which European guests sashay past me—naked and self-assured—entering the sauna before the infusion even begins.
I can’t help but wonder, was my upbringing so reserved that I am unable to feel comfortable in my own skin? What is it about North American culture that makes us feel ashamed of our naked bodies?
It’s no secret that America was founded on Puritanism and that the ideals of this religious reform movement are still the foundation on which many of us are raised. Having grown up in a strict religious household, I can attest to the fact that I was brought up to believe that all nudity—outside of the context of sex within marriage—was inappropriate and, dare I say it, evil.
This may explain why, in contrast to Europeans, we are uncomfortable when we see a woman nursing her child in public, a naked toddler, or a woman topless at the beach (while public nudity is illegal in many States, women do have the right to be topless in Canada, just most choose not to). We are taught from a young age that nudity is something to be hidden, to be ashamed of in a public setting, and that it invites unsuitable behavior.
The default setting for this always seems to revolve around safety, specifically when it comes to women and children, and this is made clear to me when I broach the topic with a group of women who have kids.
“Privates are privates, and that’s what I teach my children,” one woman tells me. She then expresses concern that public nudity leads to unsafe situations that sexual assault can more easily occur in these types of scenarios.
And while studies demonstrate that nudity under certain circumstances could play a role in sexual assault, “nudity is only one factor of many.” So, this begs the question: is the idea that we need to cover up to feel safe just reinforcing victim shaming and blaming when it comes to reporting sexual assault? If, as a society, we learned to accept nudity as natural and beautiful, would we feel safer? And could the rise of more nude experiences in North America help us get there?
In Austria, where I had my first naked sauna experience, the tourism board promotes nudity as the ideal when it comes to fully experiencing the benefits of the spa and the fact that being naked is indeed no big deal: “Everyone is equal in their natural state, and there is no judgment based on appearance or attire.”
Nudity in the spa, and specifically the sauna, beyond simply a non-sexual tradition in many countries, also ensures the heat exposure of the sauna on your skin is more effective, as all your skin should be exposed to the heat evenly to reap maximum benefits. Clothing and even swimsuits can also block the heat transfer and trap sweat that is trying to evaporate, causing the healthy advantages of the sauna to vanish in turn.
And I can attest to the fact that there was nothing sexual about my nude sauna experience and that the only discomfort I felt arose from the fact that I had forgotten to bring a second towel for my feet (an unforgivable faux pas when it comes to breaking the rules of Austrian sauna etiquette).
And sauna culture is so deeply entrenched in European culture that it has been declared an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in Finland by UNESCO. For the Finnish people, the sauna is much more than just a place to physically bathe. Central to traditional Finnish sauna culture, it is a place to cleanse the mind and embrace the tranquility of this steamy, sacred space known to locals as a “church of nature.”
Mariyana Castleberry, a resident of Alabama and the Chief Adventure Officer at YOLO Adventure Travel, felt that her Finnish sauna experience was akin to a spiritual awakening. She recalls one of the “Sauna Elves” (saunatonttu) singing a traditional song while relaxing in a Smoke sauna (savusauna).
“She called in the spirits through that song,” she said. “It was a magical moment. [The sauna] became more cleansing, more healing, it was like touching a different world.”
And what better place to embrace the body, the mind, and the spirit than in the cleansing heat of one of the 3.3 million saunas that exist in the country? This is an astonishing number when considering that public saunas nearly disappeared completely in the 1950s. It turns out, though, that the spirit of löyly—the steam released by the water (or, in my case, beer) that is thrown onto the warm stones of the sauna—staunchly continues to exist like the spirit of the Puritanical church in North America.
Challenging this North American narrative is Richmond Sauna, a six-room bed and breakfast that offers a clothing-optional outdoor hot tub, a heated swimming pool, and Finnish-style, wood-fired sauna rooms. Located in a quiet corner of Richmond, Maine, Richard Jarvi, the owner and builder of the Sauna, had Finnish grandparents who had their own sauna house. Taking a sauna bath was something they did on a regular basis, and it is something that became, and still is, part of his lifestyle.
“As a Finn, I grew up taking saunas. It’s just a natural thing. I’ve always done it,” writes Jarvi on his website. In 1975, he and his wife decided to build their own sauna, seeing as going to the sauna was something they were already doing. In 1976, they opened what was then known as Richmond Corner Sauna Bath.
In the decades since then, clothing-optional bathing experiences have popped up across the continent. SPA WORLD, a Korean spa located in Centreville, Virginia, requires patrons to wear a swimsuit or be nude. Orvis Hot Springs, featuring 10 hot spring-fed pools and ponds for bathing in Ridgway, Colorado, is also clothing optional. At the Miraj Hammam Spa, Canada’s first Hammam, the traditions of the Middle East are present during the Gommage experience (a full body exfoliation), where a swimsuit can be worn but is not required.
Everett House, a mainstay in Portland, Oregon, touts its clothing-optional spa area as a welcoming and inclusive place for everyone. And indeed, this appears to be the case as, according to online reviews, most patrons choose to forgo the clothing or swimsuit when relaxing here: “It’s a great, safe place to lower your guard and remind yourself that we’re all the same,” writes one visitor.
But how many of their patrons are actually leaving their clothes, along with their inhibitions, in the changing room? According to Judy Harrison, the General Manager of Everett House, approximately 90-95% of their patrons choose to go nude despite it being optional. “It’s about being in an atmosphere where being naked feels natural. Soaking in a hot tub or sweating in a sauna are things that you would do naked at home, so why not naked around others?”
Harrison also tells me that being around others can also make the nudity feel natural despite it being something we usually only do in private. “No one is paying attention or even noticing they are naked,” she said. “If someone momentarily notices anything, it’s likely they are noticing that someone resembles them in some way. Our space is meant to dissipate the notion that nudity is sexual in nature.”
For one American woman I chatted with, this was a revelation to her when visiting Japan in the fall of 2023. The group she was traveling with decided to spontaneously take a dip in Hirauchi Kaichu Onsen in Yakushima, Kagoshima, a 400-year-old mixed gender, and as is the cultural norm in Japan, nude Japanese onsen.
“I couldn’t wait to get out because I was so uncomfortable, but I felt like I was the only one who was,” she said. “Everyone else [I was with] was European so that they couldn’t care less, but I didn’t want to give anyone any ideas; I didn’t want to be looked at that way.”
However, despite that initial discomfort, she reflects on what she now understands is a misconception of nude bathing and tells me that she would engage in a similar experience again: “I saw that it was a safe place. I could be naked, and it didn’t have to be sexual in any way, shape, or form.”
And with Hoshino Resorts, the iconic Japanese Hotel Brand, set to open a traditional ryokan and onsen in Sharon Springs, New York, in 2028, it won’t be long before Americans can experience the traditions of Japanese bathing culture without the jet lag.
So, while scurrying, sans swimsuit, into the sauna or onsen, allow your inhibitions to evaporate as quickly as your sweat. And unlike the sweat—as the heat of the space envelopes your body—you may just find they disappear for good.
