What the heck is boudoir?
Are you sitting in your living room in Des Moines, maybe Dallas, maybe Toronto and reading about boudoir photography? Seriously? If so, you are one cool ass chick, eh? Do you know what boudoir is? I think some people imagine boudoir much less than it is. Some might say nude photos. Some might say lingerie photos. That’s cool, and that may be what their boudoir is like, but mn mmm. Not mine.
Close your eyes and imagine a little French apartment. The balcony door is pushed open and some airy white curtains are fluttering around the edge of the frame, hugging the door. This is your vacay rental. You’re staying there. And it’s just you for a few hours. You just woke up to an amazing full-nights rest and you’re enjoying the solo Sunday morning in your too-cool-for-school pad. There’s a perfect, ornate, iron railing trimming the balcony, just calling to be leaned on. There’s a beautiful stone statue on a pedestal in the corner, and the mirror leaning against the wall is the biggest, most beautiful, piece of glass you ever did see. You’re dying to see what the view from outside is and if you can see the Eiffel Tower. It’s 8:45 am. It’s reasonably late in the morning, but respectable enough a time to still be called “morning.” You woke up in beautiful lingerie (where did you find it come from!?) with one of those one-in-a-million chance good hair days. But you’re slightly ticked. You wake up with the best hair since prom and no one is there to see it. Perfect bed head with loose waves and volume for days. No sh*t. You strut by the mirror. Oh my gawd. You do a double take. Your fake lashes from the night prior are still on…and mmmmn girl, they are looking good! You lean in closer to your reflection and decide those sultry, full morning lips need to go smile at the world. From the balcony. In your bra and underwear.
But there’s a knock at the door. It’s me. You’re floored that a professional photographer that specializes in feminine beauty just showed up. Whaaaat? How did I know!? Well that’s my superpower in your daydream. You throw on your silk robe (because you’re in Paris and everyone in Paris has a silk robe), tip toe outside and start flirting with the world off the balcony. It’s not about flirting with a man and it’s not about flaunting to another chiquita. It’s about the fact that you feel good in your own skin. And it’s about being in Paris. It’s about the loose waves, the beautiful eyes, and about the fact that white sheets make you want to melt away in them. It’s about you wanting to be happy. It’s about you showing yourself that you look as good as any single model you’ve ever looked at and felt less than. I will make you stretch, booty drop, boob pop, hair toss, and arch until you are in the exact same forms as those beautiful figures we see out there and think we are nothing like. They are the same as you. They just spent hours in hair and make-up and had a pro telling them exactly what angle works best.
My boudoir is about making your parts work for you. It’s not about sex appeal, it’s not about provocativeness. It’s about capturing your iconic femininity in it’s purest form, with a little bit of extra perfection. It’s about your smile, your eyes, your curves and your laughter. It’s about taking the time for the gym, pedicure, manicure, or hair color and instead using it to document you. You’re a legend. A babe legend. So come on in to my boudoir.