wet concrete
The streets glisten—slick with on-and-off rain, puddles catching light like little mirrors. Unexpected. Beautiful. You slip from one doorway to the next, coat overhead, finding comfort in dimly lit bars and the quiet civility of shared umbrella stands (not that you’d ever take someone else’s—please, you have a scarf). Somewhere beneath the wet pavement, flowers are pushing through—slowly, softly. The city blooms when you're not looking.
Inspired by Nicky Waymouth by Norman Parkinson, Gucci Spring 2024, and the ever-iconic Francoise Hardy.
Stay toasted, xx.
