About

Every November, for three short weeks, the fields on the edge of Hanoi turn white with chamomile - and that is where a photographer first found me, seventeen years old, holding my grandmother's lace parasol and completely unaware I was being photographed. That accidental frame ran in a wedding magazine, and I've been chasing the same soft light ever since.

My work is unashamedly romantic: heirloom dresses, hand-made lace, flower fields at golden hour. Clients book me for campaigns that need tenderness with a spine - bridal houses, silk ateliers, fragrance stories. I collect vintage gowns the way other people collect books, I know how to make a hundred-year-old silhouette breathe on camera, and I have never once been outworked by a prop.

Away from the fields I restore the dresses I model - patient evenings of thread and tea - and keep a growing archive of my grandmother's embroidery patterns. She says romance is just attention that stayed. I think my whole portfolio is an attempt to prove her right.