“On the way to the restaurant I realise I’m feeling pretty intense nerves, like first date nerves, which is weird because I never get naked on first dates.
“Being n*de doesn’t bother me at all – I’m more than happy with my body – and I’m feeling a sort of thrill knowing I’ll soon be swanning around as n*ked as the day I was born.
“I picture myself as an ethereal creature, casting off my clothes and prancing around like one of Joseph Tomanek’s Nymphs Dancing to Pan’s Flute.
“There are certainly some Dionysian vibes in The Bunyadi. The waiters and waitresses are naked despite some leaves and flesh coloured underwear covering their most intimate parts. It’s all very Ancient Grecian.
“Walking into The Bunyadi – a dingy-looking, unmarked pub decipherable thanks only to the body guard at the entrance – I’m hit by a wave of humid heat (perhaps to encourage me to strip).
“Immediately my head begins to bead with sweat and I’m torn between a refreshing cocktail and hearing to the changing rooms – where I’m given a locker, a fluffy dressing gown and white slippers.
“It’s unbearably warm I think, as a whip off my skirt, so much so that I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to get my clothes off – sorry ex-boyfriends.
Once in my robe I slink into the dark, labyrinth like restaurant. While I – the exhibitionist – am expecting an open and lit space, the layout of the restaurant evokes a cocooning and soothing atmosphere thanks to the private dining booths, encircled by bamboo.
“I dined with a female companion (trust me, there is nothing more depressing than failing to get a date when a precursor of the night is that you will be n*ked) and the experience felt a lot like the relaxed spa experiences I’m used to with my female friends.
“While I can’t imagine two blokes, however much the best of friends they may be, stripping off to enjoy Tartare together, nudity among female friends feels natural.
“We go to toilet in front of one another in nightclubs – topless dining is nothing”