Red

There is a colour that runs through every frame of this set and it is not just the scarlet of the leather sofa. Fi Stevens arrives in a sleek black halterneck mini dress with a simple white sash at the waist, all clean lines and quiet drama, and it is only when you look up at the cascade of genuine copper-auburn hair falling over her pale, porcelain shoulders that you understand what the title is really celebrating. The modern room is minimal and bright: pale stone tiles underfoot, white floor-to-ceiling curtains filtering the daylight into something soft and luminous, that deep red chaise the only punch of real colour until Fi herself makes the room forget everything else entirely.

She drapes herself across the red leather with the languid, instinctive grace of someone for whom the camera has always been a friend, her green eyes steady and dreaming, the black dress sliding from her shoulders in slow and beautiful stages. By the time she stretches out across the cool stone tiles, bare and breathtaking, that extraordinary hair fanned around her like a lit flame, the set has become something closer to portraiture than photography. Her red hair was the inspiration. Fi herself is the masterpiece.

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