“Leather, late nights, and the London edge that never sleeps.”
The city lights hit the leather just right.
Every crease tells a story.
Red isn’t a colour — it’s a confession.
London was cold, but the club was fire. Raven didn’t plan the red-leather shoot — it happened between the music, the mirror, and that look that said, go on then… dare me. This is just the preview. The rest? Let’s just say the camera kept rolling.