Sophie Marie sits on a chrome bar stool in a moody, dark-toned kitchen, a single pendant lamp casting a pool of light over her cream tartan mini dress, white lace-topped hold-up stockings, and white heels. Her raven hair hangs past her waist in loose waves, and the ink that decorates her sternum and stomach peeks from beneath the thin straps of the dress. Dark cabinets and a wooden countertop form a shadowy backdrop, but Sophie glows at the centre of it all, the Lost Tartan she wears a soft contrast to the darkness that frames her.

The tartan dress slips from her shoulders to reveal a white lace bra and matching suspender belt, the bridal detailing familiar from her earlier work but cast here in a completely different light: intimate, dim, almost confessional. Sophie unclasps the bra and her rounded breasts emerge, the chandelier tattoo across her chest given centre stage under the pendant lamp. By the final frames she perches bare on the stool, white stockings still glowing in the low light, her dark hair draped like silk across one shoulder. The tartan is lost, but Sophie has never looked more found.