Issey Cartlidge on Rebellion, Revival, and the Future of Rock
Issey Cartlidge stands at the vanguard of a new generation of rock musicians determined to resurrect the raw, communal electricity of live music.
As the magnetic frontwoman and bassist of The Molotovs, she draws deeply from the lineage of ‘00s indie, ‘70s punk, and a long line of unruly, boundary-breaking women — from Flavia Couri to Siouxsie Sioux — who taught her that confrontation, chaos, and femininity can coexist onstage without compromise.
The Molotovs’ sound is a feverish collision of mod-punk bite, Britpop melody, and youthful defiance, shaped equally by her spirited presence and her brother Mathew’s relentless drive. But beneath the noise lies a clear mission: to spark a genuine revival of rock culture rooted not in nostalgia but in real-world connection, individuality, and political urgency.
As she barrels toward the release of the band’s debut album, Wasted On Youth, Cartlidge isn’t just building a career — she’s carving out a legacy, hoping to leave behind a generation of youth who feel emboldened to rebel, to think for themselves, to resist apathy, and to seek out the kind of sweaty, communal spaces where music is still a lifeline.
KP: As a band that’s so inspired by the punk era — a scene defined by raw, live energy — what was the first live show that you ever saw, and how did it shape your sense of what a performance could be?
IC: Growing up in London, we’re spoilt for choice when it comes to experiencing live music in any genre. Even though we’ve lived through a rampant culling of independent venues, we still enjoy such a bountiful music scene. As a child, I was touted to a whole manner of gigs, tribute bands, and novelty acts, but nothing really jabbed me until I grafted myself to The Libertines and groups from that early ‘00s London indie scene.
KP: Oh, that’s so cool! They’re brilliant.
IC: I distinctly remember seeing them at the O2 Brixton Academy on their On the Road to the Wasteland tour. There was an infectious buzz of anticipation in the room, an air of jeopardy: the band hadn’t completed a full tour without in-fighting for years — many expected a no-show. When they did arrive onstage, the reaction was nuclear. Garbed in their iconic Redcoat jackets, they played a feverish set without room for breath. Carl and Peter shared a mic for the majority of the gig and displayed both a set example of brotherhood and unconditional friendship. I remember leaning precariously over the balcony of the upper stalls, trying to get my torso as close to the band as possible without pummeling downwards into the braying mob below.
That performance got me hooked on the raw power of live music — I had never felt such a flurry of excitement before, such a burst spring of emotion. It was like every nerve was at its wit’s end and I was exasperated to be so far from that proscenium arch, unable to march straight onto the stage and join — what felt like — my long-lost band. From then on, I plunged headfirst into the current London underground scene.
Matt and I formed the band not long after that gig, inspired by their uncompromising personality, spontaneity, and interpersonal camaraderie that they strongly exhibited. We’ve carried those virtues since then.
We’ve even had the opportunity to support The Libertines on a couple of occasions. Peter Doherty described me on Radio X as a “high-kicking Nico crossed with an acrobat.” We’ve learnt from the best, Pete.
KP: That’s just the coolest. Although the Babyshambles, I was just listening to “Fuck Forever” earlier, and one of my favorite — most heartbreaking — songs of all time is The Libertines’ “Music When the Lights Go Out.” I remember this live acoustic performance he gave of it a very long time ago, and it was devastating.
To speak more broadly about the scene, you recently told Rolling Stone that — even at 19 — you feel your generation craves real, tangible experiences beyond the digital space, often romanticizing the raw energy of 70s and 80s rock culture.
I’m 31 and share that longing myself, often vehemently rejecting the values that the digital world rewards, like bowing down to an algorithm. Anytime I have to post on social media, I cringe. [Laughs]
What is it about that era that resonates so strongly with you, and how do you navigate maintaining authenticity in today’s online-driven world?
IC: I do vehemently believe that the digitalization of our world has been hugely detrimental to my generation and the generations to come. Social media acts as a way to depersonalize our peers, comparing them meticulously to ourselves, categorizing them into a projected “aesthetic” and ready-made stereotype.
KP: Exactly. And most of it is performative now anyway!
IC: Relationships and connection have become increasingly surface-level, degraded to a selfie as a certificate of friendship, and starting casual conversations in the pub or café is commonly seen as abnormal or “weird.” Our third spaces have also been hijacked — real-life meeting places have been substituted by the digital sphere. While this change and its consequences have been well-documented by the press and media, I think that we have struggled to really implement an alternative way of life as a generation. We’re all talk, no action. But how can we be when our lives — personal and work — are so systematically entwined with our phones? I’m guilty of being a hypocrite because of that.
KP: Me too, though! No one subscribes to newsletters anymore, so I’m forced to put my companies on Instagram, even though I well and truly don’t want to. It would take a full-on revolution on everyone’s part to leave it all behind. I want it so badly, but I’m not sure if other people do enough. So many are legitimately addicted to the validation that they get from it anyway. Real-world community is still so vital.
IC: Social media is obviously a necessary evil for any ambitious young band, and it’s something that we’ve had to embrace kicking and screaming. We’ve managed to create content that feels authentic to us — recording activity that we would be doing anyway, filmed or otherwise. Videos of us busking in front of some conspicuously “London” vista have achieved virality online, bringing more people into our Molotovs world and then converting them into real-life, jumping gig-goers. It’s never a priority, just a banal “to-do” on our road to success.
This is why places like our gigs — and the underground scene as a whole — is so important to young people. It gives us — for a few hours a night — a sense of normality and real connection. With a loss of youth centers and social clubs, grassroots events have become ever so vital at giving young people an opportunity to meet others with parallel interests and from other walks of life — not just the peer group that you’re dished out at school. That’s why we’ve set up monthly residencies at abiding venues, promoted as youth benefit shows, and organized gigs that are accepting to all ages and accessible with a £3 ticket. We started these “Youth Explosion” shows at Wimbledon Library, eventually taking them to the iconic Bush Hall in West London, and then metamorphosing them into our own headline shows. The reception has been overwhelming. We started our events at The Library, which was sold out with the published maximum capacity of 200. Each month, the numbers steadily multiplied. By October we had 700 frenzied adolescents pogoing in a library hall, books and all, novels balancing perilously from their shelves. It was awesome and showed how hungry underage people were for real live music and an explosive release of their pent-up energy.
“Feminine doesn’t mean something more vulnerable; it just means a different type of strength.”
KP: I remember being under 18 and unable to go to anything rock-related, even here in New York. I think that’s such a cool idea, and good on you guys for making it happen.
To speak more broadly, growing up, which artists or bands first inspired you to pick up a bass and sing? What were your earliest musical memories?
IC: As I mentioned previously, that whole ‘00s indie and “indie sleaze” scene really appealed to me in my young years. Bands and artists like The Libertines, Arctic Monkeys, The Fratellis, and Jamie T laid my musical foundations. That was then followed by an adoration for Britpop — classic bands like Blur, Pulp, and Elastica blasted from the stereo. While those sparked my rabid interest in music, it was more immediate bands that spurred on my personal playing.
I have real respect for Flavia Couri from The Courettes — I have to pay my debts to her. She’s the lead singer and guitarist in this dynamic duo with her drumming husband, Martin Couri, who together have this very much early-60s, crunchy, The Ronettes-meet-The Sonics sound. I saw them for the first time as a wide-eyed teenager at The Moth Club in Hackney and was absolutely enthralled by her live performance. Jagged limbs, hyperbolic facial expressions, and supreme domination of the crowd were all features of her set. She climbed tables and audience members’ arms, refashioning her Billy Childish Cadillac guitar as a Scarface automatic, mowing down the audience in this stuttering mimicry.
Before seeing her, I was inundated by images of red-blooded, male guitar virtuosos — musicians like Paul Weller and Wilko Johnson who formed immediate role models for Matt, our lead singer and my brother — but couldn’t fulfill that role for me. The role models that I was presented previously were female singers like Debbie Harry and Dolores O’Riordan who — although I have immense admiration for — didn’t provide me with the spiky, I guess more stereotypically “masculine” energy that I was looking for. She changed the game for me and gave me an instant ideal to aspire to. She’s my patron saint of frontwomen. From then on, my performance changed to what it is today — raw, uninhibited, confrontational… It gave me the thumbs-up to be a proud female musician onstage and not to put myself secondary to male counterparts.
I obviously have far more musical influences than those mentioned, but I’ve gone on long enough with this answer! For another time…
KP: My wild woman performer of choice is Wendy O Williams for the same reasons that you just spoke about, so I get it completely. Love her madly.
You recently supported the Sex Pistols at Royal Albert Hall, which must have been an incredible experience. You’ve referenced them as an influence before, alongside The Jam and early ’80s new wave and mod revival. Which of these had the most profound effect on you personally, and why?
IC: I feel the Sex Pistols have had more of a personal impact on me than The Jam, and not for any discrepancy in their ability or song quality, just because The Jam has become so rigidly “Matt’s band” that I struggle to match his obsession for Paul Weller and his oeuvre. I hear Weller’s voice 24/7 at home. Give this girl a break from his Jam jam!
KP: [Laughs] Understood!
IC: That whole explosion of creativity during that ‘76/’77 period in London has given me fields of inspiration to pluck from. Other than the Sex Pistols — who are obviously the most emblematic of the UK punk scene and the band that we’ve got the most links to, having supported them on their UK tours, been booked for their US tours, and, as you said, opened for them at The Royal Albert Hall — it’s their neighboring bands that have left firm marks on me. Siouxsie and The Banshees, The Slits, The Fall, Buzzcocks, The Clash, and The Boomtown Rats are firm favorites. Viv Albertine’s autobiography, Clothes, Clothes, Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys., acted as an anti-Bible for my formative “girl-in-a-band” experience, and Siouxsie Sioux’s brazen song content and unique fashion still never fail to shock me. I’m a sucker for an irresistible melody, so songs like “Everybody’s Happy Nowadays” by The Buzzcocks, “Walk On By” by The Stranglers, “Union City Blue” by Blondie, “Do Anything You Wanna Do” by Eddie and The Hot Rods, “That’s When I Reach for My Revolver” by Mission Of Burma, and “Starry Eyes” by The Records play perfectly into my power pop sensibilities. Melody comes before anything — there’s no use having good lyrics when no one can hum them back later.
I’ve also got to tip my hat to Wendy James from Transvision Vamp too — whose interview with yourself I read through just before writing this — and to her contribution to my cocktail of influences.
KP: Oh, she’s the coolest! So sweet too. I love her.
IC: Voice of the Beehive is a band that I’ve recently devoured too — unfortunately they’re lesser-known, but they’re fronted by sisters Tracey Bryn and Melissa Brooke Belland. They dress in these exaggerated 80s prom dresses, sing with coy smiles on their faces, and dance about the stage with an infectious energy. I’ve been really energized by their music recently.
KP: I just looked them up recently for the first time, I kid you not! Now I’ll have to dig a bit deeper.
Your bandmate is your brother, Mathew, which you claim was simply due to necessity during the pandemic. [Laughs] You guys started busking all over London at the end of lockdown, later leading to the booking of a series of gigs. How do you feel those early experiences shaped your chemistry as a band and sharpened your live performance skills?
IC: We spent a good year and a half busking in Brixton, Central London, and Camden, playing through sets of undetermined lengths, only finishing once we were told to move on. It definitely taught us resilience and just deserts through our hard graft. By the time we got into venues, we were already a tight unit, feeling like we had done our Beatles’ “Hamburg years” and still hungry to play as much as possible. To date we’ve done nearly 600 gigs — a demonstration of our inability to sit still.
From all of those tough early gigs, Matt and I have got each other’s backs, here for each other through thick and thin. That doesn’t mean that we never fall out — we definitely do — but we always return back to our usual state of kinship, despite how far he sometimes tests my patience.
KP: To go back to your female influences, you’ve mentioned that guitar music is still largely dominated by male musicians, and that having a female perspective in the band allows you to bring something different to your records. Of course, I wholeheartedly agree.
How do you feel your presence shapes the sound and creative direction of The Molotovs? Who have been some of your favorite female performers in rock?
IC: We often get pigeonholed as a “meat and potatoes” British mod band. While we don’t wholly reject that label, we’re not exclusively that. What’s new is the fact that half of our parts are female, which subverts that very macho, testosterone-fueled, fights-on-Brighton-Beach impression of mod bands. You always had mod girls — Cathy McGowan, Twiggy, Peggy Moffitt, and Ronnie Spector — but rarely were they in mainstream bands, and never did they wield instruments as weaponry in the same way that their male counterparts did. In The Molotovs, we get to introduce a new layer to the typically aggressive, intense, spiky sound of mod-punk. I definitely match that fiery, pugnacious attitude that those male performers — Matt included — emit, but I do it while holding onto my feminine side. Feminine doesn’t mean something more vulnerable; it just means a different type of strength. We also get to experiment with the different tones and ranges of male and female voices, giving us room to add dueling melodies to tracks and solid sibling harmonies.
I’ve already given away some of my favorite female performers in rock, but to name some more: Patti Smith is untouchable and emblematic of unwavering uniqueness, and Gwen Stefani — No Doubt era — and Amy Taylor from Amyl and The Sniffers are both examples of strong, high-octane performers who leave nothing in the dressing room. PJ Harvey articulates so acutely the intricacies of sexuality and the common experience of womanhood — I think that every woman could sport one of her lyrics on a pin badge and feel it’s so accurately “them.” I also have been playing Sinead O’Connor on repeat, a woman who, for me, is synonymous with courage and integrity. As The Molotovs finds its own political voice and we figure out what we want to “say” as a band, I look to her as a lucky star. Her The Lion and The Cobra album is one of my favorite debut albums of all time.
“We want the album to be a call to arms — a rallying cry to the youth of today to reject the deep-seated apathy of our times and strike while the iron is hot.”
KP: She was brilliant. Gone way too soon.
And to speak to that more, rock is a genre that has long been political. In what ways have non-musical influences — such as visual art, fashion, politics, or place — shaped your sound or stage presence? Outside of music, who or what have your main influences been?
IC: Our sound and stage presence has always been overt and confrontational. In the same vein, we look for people who are always hammering at the door of the status quo, those who are unapologetically themselves and thrust their arms — then head — out of the jail of convention. In visual art, I’m consistently challenged by the Surrealists — André Breton and his crew. I particularly love the two Leonors — Leonor Fini and Leonora Carrington — the latter most known for her relationship with fellow artist Max Ernst. Both women balked at the set “rules” of how to lead their lives as upper-class society women and instead focused on creating an artistic memory of themselves. “I didn't have time to be anyone's muse... I was too busy rebelling […] and learning to be an artist.” A better set of “rules” for any woman today.
I’m often drawn to works with political undertones and overtones. For this reason, I really appreciate the Kitchen Sink movement prevalent in Britain in the ‘50s and ‘60s. Films like Saturday Night, Sunday Morning, and A Taste of Honey and Ken Loach’s work with Cathy Come Home and Kes, which are devastating and brutally honest in their depictions of systematic oppression and injustice in British society. For similar reasons, Lindsay Anderson’s O Lucky Man is one of my favorite films of all time, a Goliath battling multiple themes of class, success, greed, man’s evils, and socialism — it is a movie that I return to often. It also features a soundtrack written by Animals’ pianist Alan Price. A real tour de force.
The aesthetics and freedom of French New Wave also play frequently at the back of my mind. I love the strong use of primary colors in Godard’s films, and I take strong influence from the fashions of his leading ladies. Vibrancy and highly saturated imagery feature repetitively in The Molotovs. In a world where conforming and blending into the crowd is considered sensible, we prefer to burst with outlandish color combinations inspired by pop art and to take pride in our appearance and dress to the nines at all times.
KP: I love that.
Your track “Rhythm Of Yourself” is described as a chant for individualism. How do you see individuality playing out in your music and your public identity?
IC: In its narrowest sense, “Rhythm Of Yourself” is a retelling of Matt’s personal experience with a commonly knavish music industry, an industry that —in his formative years — told him to change himself for the illusions of fame and success. More broadly, the song is an ode to individualism. We encourage the listener to stay authentic and to carve their own path, not to give into a herd mentality. They should dance to their own tune; dance to the rhythm of themselves.
We’ve certainly implemented that sentiment into our own lives. We both threw in the towel on formal education in our younger teenage years to commit completely to the dream. Even with our music, we’re obstinately doing our own thing. Brazen confidence, mod aesthetics, and vivid colors aren’t en vogue at the moment, and that original ‘77 punk sound hasn’t been revived for a long time, with more monotonous post-punk taking center stage in the rock scene. While I think there are some great bands around at the moment progressing that genre — Fontaines DC and DEADLETTER for example — it’s not a sound that we want to replicate. We want melody-first, proudly simple pop songs with a feisty attitude and thoughtful social commentary. The fact that we’ve got this “Those who get it, get it. Those who don’t, don’t” mentality is testimony in itself to our unrelenting individuality.
KP: Mathew said that “Rhythm Of Yourself” also took aim at “people who try to take advantage of you because they think you’re young, vulnerable, and dumb.”
I found success in my career as a teenager as well — when I was just fourteen — and I quickly learned how being young could make people underestimate or try to take advantage of you. I have the most depraved stories that I could share about the way that I was treated as a very young woman — particularly by older men — and while I hope that’s something that you couldn’t speak to, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could.
How has the industry — and people at large — reacted to you being so young, and how have you combated those negative stereotypes?
IC: Firstly, I’m sorry that you now have those stories to tell; no one should. Fortunately, I don’t feel like I’ve had to combat those negative stereotypes. I think that because we’ve been so self-assured — and because I’ve had Matt in my corner — we’ve been ignorant of any prejudice towards our youth. We’ve been instinctively sure that they’ll take notice eventually. They often do.
Of course I’ve had to deal with bigheads and imbecilic men with comments like, “Are six strings too much for you?” But I don’t give it any oxygen. Success is the best form of humiliation. I’m happy to play the long game.
KP: Fuck yes. Say that louder.
The band is releasing its debut album, Wasted On Youth, in January 2026. What do you hope this album says about your generation, and what mark do you hope it makes?
IC: Wasted On Youth is a cumulation of the songs that we’ve been playing live to our unsuspecting audience for the last five years. It’s about juvenile relationships, ambition, dreams and disappointments, political frustrations, and individualism, as we’ve talked about before.
We want the album to be a call to arms — a rallying cry to the youth of today to reject the deep-seated apathy of our times and strike while the iron is hot. Carpe diem. We’re channeling the glory days of British culture but also recognizing the decline and decay of vibrancy in the UK due to a philistine disregard. This acts as a metaphor for our epoch; our generation is dismissed as being entitled, frivolous, and “soft,” but left to pick up the pieces of past generations’ excesses, problems like the housing crisis, unemployment, our disproportionate future tax burden, AI, ecological disasters, and what have you. Apathy versus agency is a key theme throughout the album. We urge young people to rise up and take control of their lives — to run the red light and not wait for the green light to go.
We’ve built up a particularly loyal fanbase — mostly in the UK — which has led us to hit milestones bands without an album out rarely reach: sold-out UK tours, international shows, No. 1 singles… Just the other day we played our biggest headline at the iconic Electric Ballroom in Camden, which was a complete sell-out. We’re so appreciative of the people that we see time and time again at our gigs and love that we’re able to regularly put names to faces of returning fans. A lot of these fans have become great friends of ours. While we love our localized fanbase, our ambitions lie much further on. We want to tour more, to play to more people, to develop more… More, more, more! We hope that, with the album, we can put ourselves in a place to expand and grow our fanbase like bacteria in a petri dish.
“Success is the best form of humiliation. I’m happy to play the long game.”
KP: I think that you certainly will.
To return to the concept of a rock revival, what challenges do you see for rock, punk, or mod-revival music today, and how do you think The Molotovs can help address them?
IC: First off, rock has been six feet under in the mainstream for more than a decade. To try and dig it up with a shitty shovel while it’s under a barricade of stone and the groundskeeper watches from 100 meters away feels like an uphill battle. We’re still belligerently hopeful.
KP: Fuck yeah! Someone has to be.
IC: There will never be another Beatles or Oasis — bands on that gargantuan scale — but we definitely still think that there are people starving for a rock and roll band of that ilk. We no longer live in a monoculture — people’s algorithms are so fine-tuned that we are all presented with the perfect tapas board of art to our tastes. Added to that, Top of the Pops and other music programs like The Old Grey Whistle Test and The Tube all died a painful death — programs that once raised our forefathers’ favorite bands to their consciousness. While we can’t make widespread impact through one TV appearance like before, it’s up to us to find people at a grassroots level and engage them in real-time with exciting live music to create our own scene.
The music industry will push anything that starts to gain traction; it’s constantly playing catch-up and bolstering any artist that matches the current “in” sound. If you’re already copying what’s “in,” you’re automatically “out” — you’re too late. Music execs are like extinct woolly mammoths, defrosting anytime an artist has created activity for themselves and then looking to “get in first.” It just takes one band to make it, and a whole flurry of other talented guitar bands will follow in their wake. We volunteer as tribute.
There does seem to be an encouraging movement in the guitar music scene post-lockdown. Young people have had the time to hunker away at their instruments and get the dross out the way before they hit the clubs and venues. I run a night in Soho called “Incendiary!,’” cherry-picking line-ups of new bands that I find particularly impressive. In my immediate circle, I know that the talent is out there ready to be uncovered — Safe At Any Speed, Children of the Pope, Gingerella, The Paris Match, and The Forty Fours, just to name a few! I host that most Thursdays at The Spice Of Life on Cambridge Circus, Soho.
Rock music might seem old-hat and sterile to some — a genre squeezed dry of any further originality — but I think, “So what?” What matters is connection and feeling part of a collective. I believe young bands playing exciting, loud, and fast music can supply that. It’s a formula that’s tried and true. Nothing beats getting sweaty in a low-ceilinged venue with other young people who feel invincible for however long the band plays. Bands will then communicate the troubles and tribulations of their generation from there in their music. The medium almost doesn’t matter. It’ll come. I’m sure of it.
It only takes one.
KP: It really does.
The Molotovs have had multiple No. 1 physical singles, which is incredible in the year 2025. As streaming and digital music evolve, how do you view the role of physical formats in your legacy?
IC: Thank you! It’s been really encouraging to hear the news that our first two singles, “More More More” and “Today’s Gonna Be Our Day,” went straight to No. 1. We’re hoping to make it a hat trick with the next release.
As I’ve touched on before, I have a real distaste for digitalization and how it’s dissolved and diluted the real value of our most precious possessions — everything from friendship to music. It makes perfect sense, in line with that thinking, for us to favor physical records over digital streaming.
“It’s not just the music on that black disc, too — it’s the artwork, the lyric sheet, the small details that are inscribed in fine print in the bottom right-hand corner that someone has made the deliberate decision to include. Music is precious; act like it is.”
While it’s great that people now get access to a database of potentially life-changing songs for free, we’re also in an age where an AI band can get millions of monthly listeners and people don’t bat an eyelid. It’s incredibly important for us to remind ourselves of the importance of the artist and how great art and storytelling have both the political power and the emotional power to change minds and lives. If we start letting art be as disposable as a one-use tissue, how can we expect artists with compositions more thought-provoking than inoffensive background café music to rise to the surface? It’s not just the music on that black disc, too — it’s the artwork, the lyric sheet, and the small details that are inscribed in fine print in the bottom right-hand corner that someone has made the deliberate decision to include. Music is precious; act like it is.
We want people to feel excited when holding the record in their hands, to feel anticipation when peeling off the plastic, and to listen intently to the hum of the record just before the band spurs into action. If we can encourage more people to consume music physically rather than on DSPs, then we’ve done a good job. I’m consistently trying to listen to more albums in full rather than via one-off tracks. I try to train my brain to get into the artist’s head and to consume the music as one full conception rather than pick at the most moorish bits.
KP: I think that’s something that we all can — and should — work on.
What’s one thing people often misunderstand about The Molotovs — or about your role in the band — that you’d like to set straight or reshape in the public’s perception?
IC: One criticism we often get is an accusation of unoriginality, of being too derivative. So what? We’re proud to be inspired by retro sounds and to fly the flag of bands of a bygone era, to wear our influences on our sleeve. We’re a sum of our tastes, just adjusted now to our modern era.
KP: What advice would you give to women who want to break into rock music today?
IC: I’d give them a kick up the fanny and say to just do it!!!! I see too many girls in the scene somewhat complacent with being the “rockstar’s girlfriend” type. There’s so much talent and bountiful creativity that’s just at a loss of where to start. I understand that it can feel quite intimidating when you only see male bands dominating the local circuit, but they’re sheep, really, and aren’t half as clever as they make themselves out to be. At the end of the day, they’re not going to stop, and neither should they. The more bands, the better! It’s up to us girls to find the courage and agency to grab the opportunities with two hands and bask in the spotlight. I heard that you can get quite a ferocious tan from those stage lamps.
KP: I love that.
And to close, what do you feel makes a provocative woman?
IC: I love this question. A woman who is unfazed by judgement, who speaks her mind, is unashamedly “her” and stands shoulders back, chin held high, with full self-assuredness.
It’s sad that the bar is so low, but it also makes it dreadfully easy to make an impact and get a reaction. What fun!
Let every young girl write in their school textbook, “When I grow up, I want to be a provocative woman.”
Photography: Nick Benoy, Derek Bremner, Nick Benoy
