Fashion for the fevered.

Distressed. Possessed. Obsessed.

Made by hand. Meant to haunt.

 

We are the altar and the sin.

We don’t believe in pretty. We believe in power—

the kind that chokes and kisses, that bleeds and believes.

Where sacred meets unhinged.

Where leather baptizes silk.

 

Not streetwear. Not couture. Just conviction.

You’ve never been too much, darling.

You were just dressing for the wrong altar.