Moroccan Dream

Step inside the dream and breathe it in. Hayley Marie Coppin stands at the centre of a candlelit Moroccan-inspired room, wrapped in a vivid scarlet satin robe that shimmers in the warm glow of tall church candles and crimson pillar lights clustered around the dark lacquered shelving unit behind her. Her blonde hair is swept up and pinned with black chopsticks, red lips parted in a slow, knowing smile, the bold stripes of the cushioned rug beneath her feet pulling every warm colour of the room together into something that feels like a beautiful, fevered fever dream. The whole setting pulses with an almost ceremonial sensuality.

The red robe parts to reveal the teal bikini beneath it, and Hayley sinks down onto the brilliantly striped rug as the candlelight dances across her skin, the robe pooling around her like something shed from another world. The bikini follows, and she lies back in the warm amber glow, entirely at peace, entirely bare, the candles burning steadily around her like a circle of soft fire. Let's get lost in this dream together, she invites. There is nowhere else on earth you would rather be.

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