a fragile frame in a desolate room, draped in a tank top worth much more than the bed she perches on. cracked walls, peeling paint, bare essentials (sans the strategically placed bv bag). captured are the remains of what one imagines to have been far too much fabulousness for one estate in the countryside of northeastern italy to handle.
luxury brands often seek a like appeal when they scout for shoots in manhattan. against a backdrop of graffitied walls something profound like the purity of privelege against the torment of grunge emerges.
i for one don't know much about lounging around in $1,000 tank tops, but would bet that pounding my scuffed and nicked stilettos on what is left of manhattan's cobblestone streets, is even more fun.
