I found this mask again after walking past it countless times. It was left over from a charity event, tucked away, forgotten, until it wasn’t. There’s something about masks that has always felt less like disguise and more like permission. The freedom to step outside of the everyday, not to become someone else entirely, but to lean into a version of yourself that only appears in certain rooms, under certain lights, by invitation only.
As I was photographing it, my mind wandered, as a creative’s mind often does. I imagined preparing for his arrival: the door unlocking, candles already lit, music low. For a moment I wondered if it should be his cologne I was wearing, but it felt truer to let it be my own, the familiar scent I reach for every day. As the door clicks, the room settles, and whatever comes next is left to the imagination.
Kendra Trammel is a writer and brand steward using photography and brief reflection to document a weekly moment in time.