So yesterday I finally tried that Rain Paris Nude thing everyone’s been whispering about in artist circles. Heard it from some dude at a coffee shop last month – basically shooting artistic nude photos during rainstorms in Paris. Sounded wild, but my brain went “let’s freaking do it.”
The Prep Work Was a Nightmare
First up, scouting spots. Man that sucked – spent like three evenings just wandering near Pont Alexandre III with an umbrella, timing how hard rain hit the pavement. Needed places where rain made cool patterns but also discreet enough not to cause chaos. Found this kinda hidden archway by the Seine where water cascaded down old stone – perfect.
Next disaster: finding models who’d stand naked in freezing rain. Messaged like twenty people from local art groups. Most thought I was insane. One guy, Pierre, finally replied “Okay, but only if we wrap after five shots max.” Deal. Grabbed my old Sony mirrorless, two plastic bags for it, and a massive towel.
The Actual Shoot Was Pure Chaos
Met Pierre under the archway at 7 AM – sky looked like wet concrete. We waited two freaking hours for proper downpour. Started drizzling, then bam, sudden buckets. Pierre stripped quick, pressed himself against the dripping wall while I fumbled my camera out the bag. Rain hit his skin like tiny explosions, blurred the city behind him into grey watercolor smudges.
- Tried angling low for rain splash effects – knelt in a cold puddle. Socks soaked instantly.
- Pierre shivered hard after 90 seconds. Teeth chattering.
- Camera lens fogged up twice, wiped it with my wet sleeve.
- Got six shots total before Pierre yelled “ARÊTE!” and lunged for the towel.
Post-Shoot Drama
Back home, fired up Lightroom freezing cold myself. First few shots were blurry messes – rain on lens? One frame showed Pierre half-squinting against rain, arms crossed tight over his chest. Terrible. But the third shot… man. Rain streamed down his back into the cracks of the stone, skin glowing pale against all that grey. Looked like some ghost haunting the river. Didn’t need editing – just cropped the trash cans out.
Pierre hated the cold but loved that one shot. Said it looked “like drowned poetry.” Shared it privately in our art group Slack last night. Mixed reactions – some loved the raw feel, others called it “performative misery tourism.” Whatever. Still counts.
Final thoughts? Worth trying once. Would I do it again? Hell no unless someone pays for my therapist bills. But getting that one perfect frame where rain, skin, and stone just clicked? Yeah. That’s staying framed on my wall.
