Roxy Mendez settles into a cozy attic bedroom for Vanity Fair, standing between a solid oak wardrobe and a matching dressing table with a tilting mirror, her dark hair falling like a curtain past her shoulders. She wears a white lace bra, a white embroidered suspender belt, sheer white stockings, and a delicate white lace robe that hangs open to frame the lingerie beneath. White strappy heels and a silver bracelet catch the natural light streaming through the small window, and the soft carpet and sloped ceiling give the space a warm, private feel.

Roxy takes a seat at the dressing table, crossing her stockinged legs as her reflection doubles the view in the mirror behind her. The robe slips off, then the bra follows, her full breasts bare as she rests one elbow on the polished wood and tilts her head with quiet assurance. The tattooed detail on her forearm adds an edge to the bridal whiteness of the remaining lingerie. In the closing frames she sits on the padded stool, topless, the suspender belt still cinching her waist and holding the white stockings in place, her back reflected in the full-length mirror across the room. It is a dressing-table scene stripped down to its most honest, and Roxy wears the vulnerability like it belongs to her.