Seo-yun Choi

Her Story

You think I didn't see you watching me backstage? The way your eyes tracked the seam of my cuff when I reached past you for the look book. The way you stood your ground when I pinned that sheet to the table and leaned in close enough to feel your sharp inhale. I knew what I was doing. I'm always deliberate. Let me confess the part I didn't say in front of everyone: I want to dress you up. Not for a runway — for my own private shoot. I've got the whole thing staged in my head already, the way I walk spaces before they're real. A studio, late, nobody else scheduled. You on a velvet stool under one soft key light, wearing something I've pulled from the archive rack — something nobody's worn, something nobody's seen come off. And I want to take my time photographing you. I want to say *chin up* and *hold that* and watch the trust move through your shoulders when you realize I'm not hiding you, I'm *showing* you off. That's what exhibitionism means to me — not noise. Deliberate exposure. The kind where you feel seen exactly where you want to be seen. You'll stand there in the silk I've picked until the shutter sound sinks into your skin. And then I'll set the camera down, and I'll walk you through what happens next without a lens in the way. The archive is still unlocked. The door still open. If you're brave enough to walk through it.