Confessions of a Lingerie-Obsessed Photographer (And Why It’s Not About the Lingerie)

I have a confession to make: I’m obsessed with lingerie.
Not in the “my closet is bursting with lace and corsets” kind of way (though, I won’t lie, I’ve seen enough to rival a Victoria’s Secret archive). My obsession is about what happens the moment a woman slips it on in my studio.

See, people assume lingerie is the star of boudoir. That the right bra, the right bodysuit, the right garter belt is what makes the photos magical. But here’s the truth: lingerie is just fabric. Pretty fabric, sure — sometimes delicate, sometimes dramatic — but fabric all the same.

What fascinates me isn’t the lace itself. It’s what the lace means.

✨ Lingerie as Power

The instant a woman changes into lingerie, something shifts. It’s not about exposing skin — it’s about stepping into her own narrative. Suddenly, the lingerie isn’t decoration; it’s armor. A black lace bodysuit can make someone feel untouchable, like she’s walking into battle with her own insecurities and saying, Not today.

And the best part? That power doesn’t belong to the lingerie. It belongs to her. The lingerie just gave her a chance to claim it.

✨ Lingerie as Permission

So many of us grow up believing that beauty is something we have to earn, or something that gets handed to us if we’re lucky. We wait for someone to say, “Yes, you look amazing,” before we allow ourselves to believe it.

But lingerie can flip that script. It’s like holding a hall pass you signed for yourself: Permission to feel beautiful. Permission to take up space. Permission to be bold.

When a woman stands in front of my camera in lingerie, she isn’t waiting for someone else to say she looks good. She’s giving that permission to herself — and you can see the weight fall off her shoulders when she realizes it.

✨ Lingerie as Play

And let’s not forget the most underrated part: lingerie is playful. Yes, it can be sultry and seductive, but it can also be mischievous, whimsical, and even a little ridiculous. (Have you ever tried to actually fasten a garter belt without giggling? It’s basically a contact sport.)

But that’s the point — lingerie invites women to play. To flirt with their reflection, to laugh mid-pose, to strut across the studio like no one’s watching. That playfulness is where walls come down and authenticity comes out. It’s where you see a woman rediscover the parts of herself she forgot she had.

So yes, I’ll happily admit it: I’m lingerie-obsessed. But it’s not the fabrics, the straps, or the lace that keep me hooked. It’s what happens when a woman uses lingerie as a doorway — into her power, her permission, her play.

Because at the end of the day, lingerie is just a prop. The real show is the woman who wears it. And once she realizes that? The lingerie becomes almost irrelevant. What matters is the way she stands taller, smiles deeper, and carries herself long after the photoshoot is over.

That’s the secret of my obsession. It’s not about lingerie at all. It’s about transformation.