Perfect Peach

Electra Morgan leans against a white column on a sun-drenched Mediterranean terrace, a white mesh crop top barely concealing the heavy swell of her chest while peach-coloured leggings cling to what can only be described as an extraordinary set of proportions: a cinched waist that flares dramatically into wide, rounded hips and thick, sculpted thighs that fill every millimetre of the salmon-toned lycra. A woven hammock sways between the columns behind her, tropical greenery spills from every corner, and Electra's silver-blonde waves and smudged red lip turn the holiday terrace into a magazine cover. Perfect Peach refers to the colour and, one suspects, to a rear view that justifies every word of the title.

She lifts the mesh crop and her arm sweeps above her head, the net fabric gathering above her breasts as they drop free, round and heavy, against a backdrop of green leaves and white stucco. The peach leggings roll down over her broad hips to reveal a thread-thin black thong, and Electra kneels on the warm terracotta, hands clasped low between her thighs, the hammock fringe swaying behind her bare shoulders. Her body is all contrast: the narrow waist, the outsized hips, the soft belly, the thick legs folded beneath her. It is a silhouette that does not exist in fashion catalogues, and that is precisely why it stops the scroll. Electra owns every curve, and the peach was just the starting point.