Photographer Nicolas Laborie came up with the idea for a beauty story based on, and inspired by the poem "les femmes damnees" taken from Les Fleurs du mal (literal trans. "The Flowers of Evil"). A volume of French poetry by Charles Baudelaire and first published in 1857, it was important in the symbolist and modernist movements. The subject matter of these poems deals with themes relating to decadence and eroticism.
Femmes damnées Comme un bétail pensif sur le sable couchées, Elles tournent leurs yeux vers l'horizon des mers, Et leurs pieds se cherchent et leurs mains rapprochées Ont de douces langueurs et des frissons amers. Les unes, coeurs épris des longues confidences, Dans le fond des bosquets où jasent les ruisseaux, Vont épelant l'amour des craintives enfances Et creusent le bois vert des jeunes arbrisseaux; D'autres, comme des soeurs, marchent lentes et graves À travers les rochers pleins d'apparitions, Où saint Antoine a vu surgir comme des laves Les seins nus et pourprés de ses tentations; II en est, aux lueurs des résines croulantes, Qui dans le creux muet des vieux antres païens T'appellent au secours de leurs fièvres hurlantes, Ô Bacchus, endormeur des remords anciens! Et d'autres, dont la gorge aime les scapulaires, Qui, recélant un fouet sous leurs longs vêtements, Mêlent, dans le bois sombre et les nuits solitaires, L'écume du plaisir aux larmes des tourments. Ô vierges, ô démons, ô monstres, ô martyres, De la réalité grands esprits contempteurs, Chercheuses d'infini dévotes et satyres, Tantôt pleines de cris, tantôt pleines de pleurs, Vous que dans votre enfer mon âme a poursuivies, Pauvres soeurs, je vous aime autant que je vous plains, Pour vos mornes douleurs, vos soifs inassouvies, Et les urnes d'amour dont vos grands coeurs sont pleins — Charles Baudelaire	Damned Women Lying on the sand like ruminating cattle, They turn their eyes toward the horizon of the sea, And their clasped hands and their feet which seek the other's Know both sweet languor and shudders of pain. Some, whose hearts grew amorous from long confessions, In the depth of the woods, among the babbling brooks, Spell out the love of their timid adolescence By carving the green wood of young saplings; Others, like sisters, walk gravely and with slow steps Among the high rocks peopled with apparitions, Where Saint Anthony saw the naked, purple breasts Of his temptations rise up like lava; There are some who by the light of crumbling resin In the silent void of the old pagan caverns Call out for help from their screaming fevers to you O Bacchus, who lull to sleep the ancient remorse! And others, whose breasts love the feel of scapulars, Who, concealing a whip under their long habits, Mingle, in the dark woods and solitary nights, The froth of pleasure with tears of torment. O virgins, O demons, O monsters, O martyrs, Great spirits, contemptuous of reality, Seekers of the infinite, pious and satyric, Sometimes full of cries, sometimes full of tears, You whom my spirit has followed into your hell, Poor sisters, I love you as much as I pity you, For your gloomy sorrows, your unsatisfied thirsts, And the urns of love with which your great hearts are filled! — Translation by William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
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