On a sun-baked Mediterranean back street -- rough stone walls, warm paving underfoot, not a soul in sight -- Hayley Marie Coppin is crouching down and rummaging through her black fringed handbag like a woman on a mission. She is wearing a floaty blue floral sundress, her hair pinned up loosely, ankle-strap sandals on her feet, looking every inch the girl you might bump into while wandering through an ancient town on a hot day. The candid, street-shot quality of these opening frames gives everything a deliciously real feeling, like you just happened to turn a corner and find her there. Lucky you.
As the set unfolds, the blue dress turns out to be the only thing standing between Hayley and a very warm, very public revelation. It comes off -- dress straps slipped down, sandals kicked aside -- and she uses the crumbling stone backdrop and the empty lane with the unabashed ease of someone who has decided that this particular street deserves to see something spectacular today. Bare in the sunshine, golden hair tumbling free, she stretches against the warm stone walls with that familiar, irresistible smile. The bag, as it turns out, was never the most interesting thing she was carrying.