The transparent purple latex catsuit that seems to belong somewhere else
The transparent purple latex catsuit catches my attention first, but it refuses to stay the center of attention. Strange thing to say, considering how impossible it is to ignore. It feels more like the beginning of a story than the story itself.
Susan Wayland looks as though she arrived from a place operating under entirely different rules. The kind of place where elevators lead to secret floors, reflections tell the truth before people do, and clocks occasionally decide they have better things to do than keep time.
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That rich purple shine carries a strange energy. Not playful. Not aggressive. Something more confident than both. Like it already knows the ending while everyone else is still reading chapter one.
Why the transparent purple latex catsuit changes the entire room
The windows behind her almost become supporting actors.
Most people use a room. Some people fill a room. A very small number of people completely rewrite a room the moment they step into it.
The transparent purple latex catsuit feels a lot like a notification that the ordinary version of the day has officially ended.
And those long black PVC boots? Definitely built for walking through dimensions rather than hallways.
I caught myself imagining Susan as a businessman walking through those doors carrying a coffee and a stack of papers to her boss. Five seconds later, the coffee is forgotten. The papers are forgotten. His meeting is forgotten. The only remaining thought is probably: “Well… this day took an unexpected turn.”
The woman who collects reflections
Let me tell you one thing: the reflection in the glass fascinated me. Not because it mirrors her. Because it gives the sense of another version of her watching from the opposite side.
Her hair… that shock of red adds a vital layer to her mystique. Bright enough to pull attention, yet somehow secondary to the atmosphere surrounding her. Like a blaze that has completely submitted to her architecture.
I can almost picture her spending afternoons collecting reflections from windows around the city. One from a hotel. One from a train station. One from an office tower. Keeping them somewhere as trophies from places she briefly transformed simply by existing there.
A visitor from the city between realities
Every image creates a different character in my mind. This time, she isn’t a queen. She isn’t a vampire. She isn’t a fairy, either. She feels like a traveler from a hidden city suspended between parallel worlds.
The transparent purple latex catsuit serves as her uniform. The black cropped latex jacket is part armor, part invitation. And the moment she notices someone staring, she already knows what they are thinking.
I am certain that she belongs exactly where she is. And perhaps somewhere else entirely.
What story comes to your mind when you look at her? Is she a visitor from another reality, or does she simply make this one seem perfect? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
Shiny hugs and love,
Diana
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