Despite these factoids, and the exploration of body-free culture, Nudist Camp is a preposterous tale, uninspiringly told, signifying very little. We've been there, and the women do in fact often have perfect ivory skin. Mixed into the intrigue is a bit of romance, and lots of waxing rhapsodic about Iceland and its beautiful women. When Della finds out, she's aghast, and bends her efforts toward thwarting this rude plan, leading to a scheme to steal the photos and hopefully burn them. Problem is her partner in this scheme is secretly planning to photograph the visitors and blackmail them with the prints.
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named Della who finds herself needing to earn her keep due to a looming divorce, and turns her patch of rural land into a nudist resort. We're treated to the story of an Icelandic immigrant to the U.S.
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Orrie Hitt turns his sleazolicious talents to the subject of nudism for the succinctly titled Nudist Camp, published by Beacon Signal in 1957. * sigh* This was more fun before the social distancing thing. The cover art, by the way, is uncredited. We'll stop the synopsis there except to say that you have to give Gaddis major points for creativity. The only way to try and win him over is to stay at the colony-plus the treasure might be there too-so she settles in for an extended nude sojourn. They of course find the long lost Tony, and Elaine is ashamed at how she treated him, then smitten as she realizes she loves this newly bronzed hunk. They don't know the place is inhabited, but they soon find out, and can only stay if they agree to become nudists, which Elaine and her five idle rich friends do in order to secretly search for the treasure. Weeks later they sail to the nudist island thanks to a bizarre subplot that has them half-jokingly searching for Blackbeard's buried treasure. Nobody is concerned except Elaine, who realizes she behaved terribly toward him. Tony's yachting pals, who are habitually hungover each day, assumed he'd abandoned them in port one morning and they'd simply slept through it. And it's there that he finds true love in the form of Eve Darby. He's horrified, but since supply boats come only once a month the only way he can eat is to doff his garments and join the colony. He actually ends up on an island nudist colony. He thinks he's swimming to the Florida mainland. In embarrassment and disgust he jumps overboard and swims ashore.
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She'd invited him to her cabin for nocturnal fun, but he arrived to find another man there. As the only unwealthy person aboard aside from the crew, he takes it badly when the yacht's owner Elaine Ellison jilts him one night. It was written by Peggy Gaddis under her Clayford pseudonym, and it's about a hard partying yacht trip from New York City to Jacksonville, peopled by six jet-set types and one everyman named Tony Ware.
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This looks straightforward but it's one of the stranger tales you'll come across. The cover art, as in the case of James Clayford's 1949 novel Marriage Can Wait, often has nothing to do with the content. We've said it before-you never what you're going to get when you buy vintage paperback digests.