Fanny pack makes for a bizarre tanline. Although I just got a huge backpack belt to support the five pound overnight shoulder strap arrangement
Okay, drivers license, credit/debit card, maybe a car key and/or hotel key: I've got a wrist strap of velcro, or the brim of my hat. It will lug around a little more, like cash. On St. Martin, I established a line of credit for us at the bar restaurant. So we lugged water toys and towels to lay on instead. The blow up raft actually provided a cover to leave the "need bottoms" hotel that we were staying in as we walked over to the nude beach. It was a crazy situation. She wore only a g-string in the lobby and at the front desk, anywhere, but rules are rules.
I have a small bag for my camera. It has room for cell phone/smart phone, and any ditty that I may need during a particular jaunt.
There is a particularly liberated sense of being absolutely naked. That is given by discarding even jewelry, and especially shoes. The encumbrance of a bag and/or strap can be eliminated, too, and that feels even more lovely naked. Have a friend to carry stuff and pay for things. Resolve to never unpack the bag, but toiletries. Stuff the bag out of sight in the closet, or in the boot/trunk of the car.
More on that mention of dressing for dining:
Isn't clothing an option? Do they actually require clothing to eat? Is it a way to act more classy and charge more, setting it apart from the bar/stand down by the beach? Are these places that have a nude beach only? That ain't naturism. That's not free range! Screw 'em. Absurd clothing obsession. They make no logical sense and enforce...ah, you know, bad guys imposing on my vacation.
In Jamaica (1984-ish), ladies and gentlemen were required to wear a top (not bikini), covering breast in the restaurant. The rules. We were required bottoms everywhere. Tight short T-shirt and tiny triangle g-string, we were admitted, as we were now dressed for fine dinning.
At the Beverly Hills Hotel, I had a new vest pants, disco thing (1979 ish). I had no jacket, that wasn't fashion. They provided an oversized silly thing that didn't go with it, jacket. Better to look scruffy, than look good and break the rules. It was just too late to get reservations anywhere near there. Then, the food wasn't all that good, for all the hoohah and excessive bucks. The simple room cost as much as the washer and dryer that I bought the next week. It got me to thinkin' about all the ego hoohah. I know that the French are sticklers for table cloth and accoutrements when dinning, even a picnic on the side of the road. I know that food is supposed to taste better when associated with nice atmosphere. But, there is an inherent clothing obsession in there, a class obsession, and ego reinforcement that is unhealthy, socially and individually.
It is like a coverup at the beach to go grab a snack. It is senseless, sheepish behavior.
Jbee