My nude debut : Pierre

Parisian Pierre writes to us with his own experience of his nude debut. As he supplied the text in French, and my own French isn’t parfait, I’ve taken the liberty of editing his text into English, with the caveat that I’ve had to adjust some of his words, as neither my own French or Google Translate were giving me translations that made perfect, readable English. I hope that I’ve captured the essence of what Pierre was saying. Just to add, I’ve checked with him and he’s happy with my English translation.


Many years ago, after I had completed my own studies, I moved to Paris in the hope of finding a good job. It wasn’t easy to secure employment right away, and so I ended up living in an apartment I couldn’t afford to heat while working as a waiter in a cafe, applying for jobs as openings came along.

I was really broke. My salary and tips only just covered my rent, and I was thinking of returning home to a small, rural town in France when I happened to see an advertisement for a nude life model at the university.

I applied and got the job. Now, I think I was maybe the only person to apply for the job. Of course I was a little bit frightened by the prospect, but the money they were offering was good, and I had no other options. Return home from Paris as a failure? Or go naked in front of strangers?


Happily, it wasn’t so difficult at the first session. I was able to sit still for a long time, which seemed to be the only qualification required, and I would be in a seated position, so that not ‘everything’ would be fully displayed. It put me at ease. I was also put at ease by the fact that I wore a gown until the lecturer got me seated, it wasn’t a case of walking naked through a classroom of eager art students.


In time, of course, there would be sessions where I had to stand, genitals fully on display, but by that stage it was no longer a big deal for me, the students seemed more interested in capturing an image than looking at me, and the extra money I was earning allowed me to eat better and heat my apartment.

Even better, sessions were during the day, so it didn’t interfere with my work in a restaurant either. I did it for two years, at which point I had found employment in my chosen field. Forty years later, as I think of retiring from my own business, and having done well in life, I often wonder how much life might have turned out differently if I had not seen that little advertisement for a model. The work and the money allowed me to survive in Paris for two years.