R E V O L T + I N D U L G E
girl•hood
noun
1. Ripped stockings, smeared red lipstick, stolen lies, branches in our hands, scrapes on our knees from climbing.
A moon to guide us home, the wild, wicked stars, the crimson fires of our hearts burning. Secrets we keep like knives between our teeth.
2. I’m made of cigarette ash and that moment of silence right before the thunderstruck sky breaks open with rain.
I’m a breathing, bleeding body.
I’m a breathing, bleeding soul.
3. What prayers do we say when we realise god isn’t listening but the women around us are.
R E V O L T + I N D U L G E
girl•hood
noun
1. Ripped stockings, smeared red lipstick, stolen lies, branches in our hands, scrapes on our knees from climbing.
A moon to guide us home, the wild, wicked stars, the crimson fires of our hearts burning. Secrets we keep like knives between our teeth.
2. I’m made of cigarette ash and that moment of silence right before the thunderstruck sky breaks open with rain.
I’m a breathing, bleeding body.
I’m a breathing, bleeding soul.
3. What prayers do we say when we realise god isn’t listening but the women around us are.
“REVOLT + INDULGE”
- inspired by the hyper-sexualisation of the female form, reimagining the way we look at our bodies, allowing the natural contours of the feminine form to shine
Model: @emtizza
Photography: @artistcollectiveagency
R E V O L T + I N D U L G E
girl•hood
noun
1. Ripped stockings, smeared red lipstick, stolen lies, branches in our hands, scrapes on our knees from climbing.
A moon to guide us home, the wild, wicked stars, the crimson fires of our hearts burning. Secrets we keep like knives between our teeth.
2. I’m made of cigarette ash and that moment of silence right before the thunderstruck sky breaks open with rain.
I’m a breathing, bleeding body.
I’m a breathing, bleeding soul.
3. What prayers do we say when we realise god isn’t listening but the women around us are.
R E V O L T + I N D U L G E
girl•hood
noun
1. Ripped stockings, smeared red lipstick, stolen lies, branches in our hands, scrapes on our knees from climbing.
A moon to guide us home, the wild, wicked stars, the crimson fires of our hearts burning. Secrets we keep like knives between our teeth.
2. I’m made of cigarette ash and that moment of silence right before the thunderstruck sky breaks open with rain.
I’m a breathing, bleeding body.
I’m a breathing, bleeding soul.
3. What prayers do we say when we realise god isn’t listening but the women around us are.
