The Birth of Alejandra…

 Let’s start the only place I can… Camden Town.

In an ideal world, everyone would know exactly where it started. There’s usually an all-encompassing, earth-shattering moment where fanaticism begins. That’s not quite how it happened to me. My passion was a slow burner; a deep love that grew uncontrollably without my knowledge.

For this reason, I can only start from the day that makes the most sense: the day I bought my first corset. I say this loosely because, by my standards, it doesn’t count as a corset.

I was seventeen and our sixth form was having a ball. Now, let’s assume I was already in love with corsets because I already knew I had to go to Camden and buy one. This is my only hint at how I began to love them. Things may be different now but I remember getting off the tube and being surrounded by the most beautiful gothic women. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark lips and tightly laced. I envied their corsets and the curves it created. There was something sensual about the way the corset shaped them and I knew I needed that in my life.

The first “corset” I bought was one that zipped up at the side and had satin ribbon for lacing. It was in no way supposed to be the real thing but I loved the blood red and black sparkle it had and it would more than do the job. The moment I slipped it on, I knew I needed more. I wanted the rigorous lacing, the brutal structure, and the uncompromising curves. From that moment on, I was on the hunt and Alejandra was born. Image

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