Léna Verselle

A peek inside my wardrobe…

Ivory satin top and white miniskirt on the terrace

The terrace, the last sun of the day, and tiles that hold the heat until evening. A little ivory satin top, a white skirt I only dare wear up here, and black sandals clacking on the stone. The olive tree has two olives, the candle won't light, and the sea stays down below. We never left the terrace.

Lena leaning on the railing, forearms crossed and legs crossed, wearing a white top, white miniskirt and black sandals, on a terrace overlooking the sea. — Admit it, you didn't look at the sea.

Lena standing facing the camera, wearing a white top, white miniskirt and black sandals, on a furnished terrace with olive trees and sea views. — First shot, already melting.

Lena standing with crossed legs, one hand in her hair and the other on the railing, wearing white separates and black sandals, overlooking the sea. — The sea is two streets down. I never go.

Lena sitting on a tall chair, holding a stemmed glass, wearing a white top, white miniskirt and black sandals, on a terrace overlooking the sea. — One glass. Just one. Okay, two.

Lena walking toward the camera in a white camisole, white miniskirt and black sandals, between wooden furniture and olive trees, with the sea behind her. — Heels on tiles. The whole building hears me.

Lena sitting on a beige cushioned armchair, legs crossed and hands resting on her knee, wearing white separates and black sandals, with the sea behind. — The cushion is scorching. Pretending it's fine.

Lena standing beside a potted olive tree, one hand raised toward the branches and the other at her waist, wearing white separates and black sandals. — The olive tree has two olives. I count them daily 🤍

Ten minutes watching boats, not a single thought.

Lena crouching beside a coffee table, hands around a lit candle holder, wearing white separates and black sandals, on a terrace with plants and seating. — Three matches for one candle. Owning it.

Lena sitting on the edge of a beige seat, leaning toward a black sandal strap, wearing a white top and miniskirt, on a furnished terrace. — This buckle has been fighting me since June.

Lena reclining on a beige armchair, one arm above her head and knees bent, wearing white separates and black sandals, beside a terrace coffee table. — Seven p.m., sun still blazing, not moving.

Lena standing facing the camera, holding the neckline of her white top with lowered straps, wearing a white miniskirt, before an olive tree and sofa. — The strap slides down by itself, I swear.

Lena kneeling on a beige sofa, hands on her thighs and head turned toward the camera, wearing white separates and black sandals, on the terrace. — He insisted on this one.

Lena sitting on terrace tiles, legs folded and elbow resting on a beige seat, wearing white separates and black sandals, with the sea behind her. — The tiles hold the heat. I use it.

Lena standing with her back toward the camera, head turned and one hand at her waist, wearing white separates and black sandals, between tables and an olive tree. — The wind does all the work on my hair.

Lena shown from her legs to her feet, ankles crossed and one heel raised, wearing black sandals with unfastened straps on terrace tiles before a railing. — Straps undone, day over ✨