Photographer Emily Hlavac Green
Creative Director Bianca Carosio
Words Riley Liljestrom
Fashion Natalie Ayers
Grooming Crystal Gossman
Photography Assistant Whitley Isa
Models DeAndre Bennett at WeSpeak Models & Tyler Yassky at Dreamland Agency
Late afternoon warmth beckons curled bodies to crawl from buzzing studios. Come, play beneath the closing sky! Emerald blades of grass begin their sigh into a softer amber, suggesting the beginning of a perennial end. Soon bicyclists will zip past in blurred commuter flashes, but today, all passerby shimmer and mosey. Maybe tomorrow, too. New York wants to linger.
August and July and June are stretching kittens unfurling behind DeAndre when he balances Tyler in his handlebar basket. The carefree pair grin past window-kissed brick buildings. There is no destination - just a city bathing in orange dreamsicle. Photographer Emily Hlavac Green captures Creative Director Bianca Carosio’s vision in the angelic backdrop of waning summers of yesteryear - not an azure sky but a heavenly floodplain of soft white light. Tyler and DeAndre exist languidly in a timeless moment with all the rush of childhood joy. Boundless and unbridled, chins tip upward to relish in the atmospheric glow, the taste of ripe peaches still dripping down exposed throats.
Tumbling across the lawn, layers are shed, inviting the misted droplets to dance on bare chests. Resting in sneakers and racing in heavy black boots; remember when we lived so freely? The boys ebb in their proximity, stretching and compressing the space between. A casual tenderness of touch between the two echoes the ease of youthful friendship. The sunset will live on their sleeves until the day is over, staining their memories in stripes of golden and pink.
Dancing in hues of ivory, petals cling to their chests without desperation. Draping the boys in knits and ivory, Natalie Ayers dances on the precipice of seasons with her styling. Tartans and loafers remind of academia and structure and hot coffee’s stealthy approach. Yet the lemonade air has still not given way to the apple crisp breezes to come. And summers will always live in their bones, the smell of charcoal grills and citrus that can’t be washed away.