«At certain hours, the countryside is black with sunlight. The eyes try in vain to grasp anything but drops of light and colour that tremble at the edge of the lashes.» — Noces à Tipasa, Albert Camus.

Lucille Thievre’s summer season evolves in a dark, brilliant et burnt territory. The pieces range from deep black, to red earth tones, to pale crepe silk chiffon, of which only a thin, weathered armour remains. The shiny jersey folds around the body, cut according to the curves of the lascivious body. They let those who are trying to escape the heat breathe. The soft shirts and pleated cardigans are faded by the light and weathered.

The sun hits the retina and blends the prints into visual hallucinations of ocean blue ruffles.