When I do my makeup, I don’t just apply colors to my face — I talk to myself. It’s almost like a quiet ritual, a kind of meditation. If I’m in a light mood, I might add a bit of blush, just enough to make it look like I’ve been running through a garden in the morning sun. I don’t use makeup to hide — quite the opposite. I reveal parts of myself through it. It’s not a mask, it’s a language. A soft way of saying here I am, without speaking a word. I love watching faces on the subway and imagining how I’d bring out their features — not to change them, but to highlight what’s already there. The tilt of an eye. The curve of a lip. The gentle shape of a cheekbone. When I brush against my own skin, it feels like I’m telling myself a little secret — that everything is going to be just fine. I’m not just painting a look, I’m creating a feeling. A mood I can carry with me all day.

1. Dior Book Tote Bag 2. Hermès Birkin bag 3. Gucci Marmont Bag 4. Charlotte Tilbury Matte Revolution Lipstick 5. Foundation cream Fenty Beauty Pro Filt'r 6. Mothership Eyeshadow Palette from Pat McGrath Labs 7. Tarte Shape Tape Foundation 8. NARS Orgasm Blush 9. La Mer Moisturizer 10. Tom Ford Black Orchid Perfume

Flirting is my quiet little weakness. I like it when a glance lingers just a second too long, or when someone brushes my hand on the subway and quickly looks away. It’s not that I’m missing anything — it’s just my way of remembering I exist, that I’m alive, that I still feel. I think a lot about family. Not the one built by rules and expectations, but the one you recognize with your heart. A place where you're wanted, where your voice matters, where you're not asked to shrink yourself just to fit in. I'm not chasing fairy tales. I simply believe love can be soft. No grand promises. No drama. Just someone near, and the quiet feeling that you're safe. .

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Hi, I'm Violetta. I'm eighteen and I live in Paris, although I'm not sure if it's ever been really close to me. You know, when they say Paris is the city of love, I have a slight smile on my lips. It's a beautiful phrase, but not about me. I walk along these streets, I see cafes with white tablecloths, I hear music from open windows, but inside everything seems empty. This city knows how to pretend. And me too. Every morning starts the same way. I wake up before the sun, turn on the music softly so as not to wake up the walls, put a cup of coffee on the windowsill and sit in front of the mirror. My little scene.