Temperature is rising, layers are falling.
photos by Anya Kernes
The last time I took boudoir photos was probably six years ago. My friend and I made a pact to both take them but at the last minute, she chickened out and I found myself stuck with the "premium package" in front of a photographer I barely knew in her grimey studio/DTLA loft before lofts were cool. Throughout the session, a bunch of her male friends dropped by so I had to constantly burrow myself in her utility closet. I knew nothing about angles and posed like a rigamortis corpse while wearing black lace gloves, pearls, and a huge embarrassed half grin that cheesed up every photo. I felt so naked. And not in a good way.
Flash forward to earlier this year where inside the romantic suite of The Redbury Hotel, my friend and photographer Anya Kernes captured ethereal images glowing with femininity. Sexy is not a word I'd ever use to describe myself so these photos are not a transparent attempt to flaunt flesh and boobs. Rather, I want to celebrate the talents of my friend, feature my beautiful lingerie, and to ingrain into memory a moment in time when I felt completely comfortable in my own skin.
{shop SKIVVIES by For Love and Lemons}
