The backdrop was soft ivory—understated, deliberate. A subtle contrast to the high-rise skyline stretching out behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the entire space in golds and silvers from the late morning light. The Vogue crew moved like dancers—quiet, efficient, focused—adjusting light angles, softboxes, and mic levels with practiced ease.
Isabelle sat center frame, posture elegant, expression composed. Her cream-colored suit was perfectly tailored, her heels sharp enough to cut glass. The diamonds in her ears weren’t flashy, but they caught the light when she tilted her head just right.
There was a stillness about her. Not the kind that suggested calm—but control. Poise sharpened into presence.
A young stylist adjusted a fold in her jacket sleeve. Another knelt briefly to s
