I paid to visit Italy's beach clubs and discovered why locals swear by them

We're south of the Amalfi Coast, on a spiaggia libera (free beach), trying and failing to get comfortable on towels spread across stones the size of a baby's fist. It's the start of the Italian summer, still and hot, and the beach is packed, a chain-smoking group barely arm's distance away.

Over the top of my book, I look enviously across the low white picket fence dividing the free beach from a beach club, where people recline on sunbeds beneath large umbrellas.

"We should ask how much it costs," I say to my husband. "Just once. For the experience."

It doesn't take much to convince him, and we are soon lounging beneath our own umbrellas sipping Aperol spritzes, both knowing full well this isn't going to be a one-off. Italy's beach clubs, lidos, or stabilimenti balneari (bathing establishments), have been around for two centuries, the first opening in Viareggio in Tuscany in the 1820s.

Initially segregated by sex, the purpose of the fenced beach with change huts was to offer privacy for the increasing number of people flocking to the seaside after the British medical profession endorsed the health benefits of sea bathing.

As the 20th century introduced the concept of leisure time, the focus began to shift from the purely therapeutic virtues of sun and sea, to recreation and frequenting a lido became an integral part of Italian summer tradition.

Today, it's estimated that there are as many as 27,000 clustered along the country's approximately 8000 kilometres of coastline, distinguished from each other by the colours of their umbrellas.

Beach club owners lease their spot from the local council, and are responsible for setting up and packing away the umbrellas and sun loungers, engaging a lifeguard and keeping their section of the beach clean.

Most have a restaurant or cafe attached, and many have a concession renting out equipment like paddleboats and SUPs. Generally, they're open from April or May to September or October, depending on the location.

It's our fourth lido visit now. We pay, then stop at the cafe, for a shot of espresso and a Nutella-filled cornetto for breakfast. We hand our ticket to the bagnino, who checks his flat plan and indicates to us to follow him, leading us to a side section, about six rows back, along the fence separating it from the neighbouring beach club.

I point to the empty seats in the first row, just a few metres from the water, but he says that these are all booked out for the entire summer.

Some families have been coming to the same lidos at the same time of year for decades, and as a result, there's a strong sense of community.

Bronzed women shout greetings to each other, hatted nonnos stand chatting, while keeping a watchful eye on grandchildren, and teenagers pitch balls or frisbees to each other in waist-deep water.

A little fancier than the others we've been to, this beach club on the Lazio coast has personal change rooms with a shower, generous umbrellas in crisp blue and white livery, and luxurious, well-spaced lounges with a small table in between for our drinks and books.

We people-watch and eavesdrop, take frequent swims, and occasional naps, breaking up our beach day with lunch at the lidos' breezy restaurant - fettuccine frutti di mare and a glass of local biancolella wine.

At dusk, as the bagnino begins to fold down the umbrellas and the families pack up for the day, we shower off the salt, get changed and head straight to a bar for aperitivo hour.

Prices are always posted outside the lido and vary, depending on the season, the location, their offering and your sun lounger position (you'll always pay more for the front row).

A standard, no-frills, family-style lido is usually around 30-35 euros ($48-56) per day, per couple. However, in exclusive areas like Capri or Positano, where lidos may host DJs, have upmarket restaurants or be associated with designers such as Dior or Dolce and Gabbana, they can cost as much as $600 or more.

The writer travelled at her own expense