How my journey began
I’ve enjoyed a naturist lifestyle for more than fifty years. What first drew me to it wasn’t an idea or a movement, but a feeling: the simple experience of being comfortable in my own skin and more connected to the world around me. It stayed with me, and over time it became a natural part of how I lived, long before it had any bearing on my work.
More on the way it actually came about, including the swimming pool in the rain that's stayed with me for decades, in this blog post.
From electrician to therapist
For much of my early adult life I worked as an electrician (a practical trade, nothing to do with any of this). In my mid-thirties I started having panic attacks, with a period of agoraphobia layered on top. The recovery, slow as it was, ended up changing my direction completely.
Massage was a large part of what helped. So was the sense of freedom and acceptance I’d always found through naturism. At some point it simply stopped making sense to keep the two things separate, and I decided to retrain properly.
I didn’t do it lightly. Over several years I studied aromatherapy, reflexology, acupressure, essential oils and oriental diagnostics, with my formal training rooted in the Institute of Traditional Herbal Medicine and Aromatherapy. I hold membership of the International Federation of Aromatherapists, and I’ve worked as a qualified therapist continuously since 1995.
What the training gave me was technique. What the years since have given me is something different: a kind of shorthand for the places people tend to hold tension, and a feel for when someone simply needs the room to be quiet for a while.
What those years looked like
From the start I worked two ways. I had a treatment room at my house in St Albans where clients came to me, and I travelled to others besides, mostly across London and Hertfordshire. Homes and hotels, mainly. Every room was a different problem: too cramped, too cold, badly lit, dog in it, neighbour through the wall. You learn to make a space work in a few minutes, and you learn that the room matters as much as the technique.
That St Albans room is still going, by the way. Grace runs it now, with her own small rota, one therapist a day. Different operation from The Workshop, but it’s the room I started in.
By 2010 I’d had enough of carrying a table around. I wanted somewhere I could set up properly: warm rooms, a sauna, real showers, quiet, no surprises. Royston was a deliberate choice when I found it. A small market town with parking and quiet streets, easy to reach from Cambridge, north London and most of Hertfordshire. The building is a unit on a small industrial estate on Lower Gower Road.
The other thing those years taught me, which I still hold to: the part of the appointment that matters most is the bit before the massage starts. Whether questions get a straight answer, whether someone feels they can change their mind.
The practice, the company,
the building
A few dates tell the practical side of the story:
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1995
The practice begins
I qualify and start working professionally as a therapist. Naturist massage is part of the work from the start, though in 1995 very few people in the UK had heard the phrase.
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1999
The domain goes online
I register naturistmassage.co.uk in 1999, when having a website was still unusual for a small independent practice. I’ve held it continuously ever since.
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2000
The limited company
I incorporate the practice as Naturist Massage Ltd, matching the name the domain had carried from the year before.
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2011
The Workshop opens
The practice moves to purpose-built premises on Lower Gower Road, Royston. At the same time the company is renamed The Holistic Workshop Ltd and the spa takes its current trading name: The Workshop Naturist Spa.
Why naturism, for the work
People come to naturism for different reasons, and find different things in it: less self-consciousness, a calmer relationship with their own body, sometimes just relief from a layer of social signal they hadn’t realised was tiring them.
The same shift shows up in the treatment room, in a more particular way. With towels not being constantly managed, the session is quieter. The therapist isn’t fussing, the client isn’t bracing for the next adjustment. Most people, after the first few minutes, stop thinking about being undressed at all. That’s the point at which the work properly begins.
On the same theme: what naturism is called around the world, some reflections after years of seeing it in different countries.
Naturism and The Workshop
The Workshop grew naturally out of all of this. I wanted a place where people could feel safe, respected and unhurried, whether they already lived a naturist lifestyle or were simply curious. Some guests arrive entirely at ease; others nervous, unsure, self-conscious. Both are welcome, and both tend to end up in much the same place by the end of the session.
The daily massage rota is now seven female therapists: Jessica, Roxanne, Sophia, Maria, Cindy, Scarlett and Lilly. I run the spa and teach the couples tuition sessions, and I still take massage clients on request, usually with a day or two’s notice. The rota page shows who’s in. For an example of what naturism looks like out in the world, my account of a road trip from Saint-Tropez to Spain some twenty years back.
For the practical side of a visit, the treatments and prices pages are the best starting points. The FAQ answers most of what people ring in to ask. Or just call the spa if you’d rather have a quiet word first.
Antonio