Stories
Filter
- All
- // no.01
- // no.02
- // no.03
- // no.04
- // no.05
- // no.06
- // no.09
- Alex
- Alice
- Alicja
- Amira
- Amy
- Becky
- Caroline
- Cerowyn
- Chloé
- Constanze
- Dorothy
- Emily
- Eugénie
- Fern
- Genesia
- Gervaise
- Gözde
- Ivvy
- Ivy
- Izy
- Jacqueline
- Jade
- Joanne
- Judy
- Julia
- Kate
- Lila
- Lily
- Manisha
- Mary & Lily
- Naomi
- Olivia
- Paula
- Pauline
- Périne
- Rachel
- Rebecca
- Roisin
- Rosie
- Sarah
- Seema
- Sophs
- Stephanie
- Sue
- Val
- Vlada
Filter
- All
- // no.01
- // no.02
- // no.03
- // no.04
- // no.05
- // no.06
- // no.09
- Alex
- Alice
- Alicja
- Amira
- Amy
- Becky
- Caroline
- Cerowyn
- Chloé
- Constanze
- Dorothy
- Emily
- Eugénie
- Fern
- Genesia
- Gervaise
- Gözde
- Ivvy
- Ivy
- Izy
- Jacqueline
- Jade
- Joanne
- Judy
- Julia
- Kate
- Lila
- Lily
- Manisha
- Mary & Lily
- Naomi
- Olivia
- Paula
- Pauline
- Périne
- Rachel
- Rebecca
- Roisin
- Rosie
- Sarah
- Seema
- Sophs
- Stephanie
- Sue
- Val
- Vlada

By Emilie Lavinia
Over the years I’ve had a complex relationship with my own body. Imagine feeling uncomfortable about something, then being in awe of it, then disliking it or hating the sight of it on some days but still, having to carry it with you or rather, having it carry you everywhere you’d go each and every day.