Laundry

Someone has to do it, and Hayley Marie Coppin has decided that someone is her — but she's doing it entirely on her own terms. She arrives at the laundry room in a white vest top and denim shorts, bare feet on the tiled floor, laundry basket balanced on one hip, and immediately the mundane business of sorting whites from darks becomes absolutely riveting. She loads the machine, slams the door, and then it becomes apparent that half the laundry she's supposed to be washing is currently still on her body — a problem she sets about correcting with cheerful, methodical efficiency.

The vest goes in next, then the shorts, and Hayley Marie Coppin carries on with the ironing board in nothing but a grin and the warm hum of the machine. She runs the iron over a shirt with the focused concentration of someone who takes domestic tasks seriously, which is impressive given the circumstances. By the time the washing's done and Hayley is draped across the laundry basket in glorious bare-skinned satisfaction, you'll be hoping there's another load to do. Domestic bliss has never looked quite like this.

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