Encaje, lace, and the art of revealing by concealing. Pipa knows the difference between naked and undressed; the whole set lives in that gap.

We shot this one in the suite with the city stacked up behind the glass, that washed-out Miami daylight doing half the work for me. There’s a little carved beast on the lamp table that I kept trying to crop out, and somewhere around frame thirty I gave up and let it stay. It looks like it’s guarding her. Fine. Let it.

She’s barefoot on the sofa, one hand at her hair, the other folded across like she’s deciding whether to let me keep going. Black lace against that muddy teal upholstery, skin warm in the window light. I didn’t pose much of this. I mostly got out of the way and tried not to ruin it.