Concrete Golden Hour

Seven looks, one kind of place: poured concrete plazas and the top decks of car parks, somewhere between six and seven in the evening when the sun is low enough to come in under the slabs. For twenty minutes the grey goes warm, the joints in the concrete turn into lines of shadow across the ground, and anything with a colour in it starts to glow. We shot in that window and stopped when it closed.

Green is the thread. A forest green one-shoulder jumpsuit with a cape panel, an emerald pleated gown, a green blazer dress with the waist cut out, an emerald crop top with puff sleeves over pleated trousers, a green cape-sleeve satin top belted over a leather corset. Against it, navy in a corset top with cut-out trousers and a black blazer with an O-ring strap belt over pleated wide legs. What repeats is the shape: a shoulder that holds a line, a waist that is either belted or missing, a trouser wide enough to catch the light on the crease. What changes is where the cut-outs land.

In practice these are evening clothes that start outdoors. Wear the jumpsuit and the blazer dress with a pointed heel, the trousers with a chelsea boot, and leave the coat at home until the sun is actually gone. Concrete does not care what you wear. That is why it photographs so well.