Lileet_Miriam: The Latest Vixen

Tara Mordin the latest Vixen in a series by Tony Ward Studio copyright 2024
Tara Mordin. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

Text by Lileet_Miriam, Copyright 2024

Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

Styling and Creative Direction by KVaughn 

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When I was contacted by Tony Ward Studio to partake in this project, “The Vixen Series,” I was genuinely honored, very excited, and quite honestly, humbled. I viewed this invitation to be in a league of its own – an elite circle of amazing women from all walks of life who were having their beauty, thoughts, strengths, and tribulations highlighted in a way that exuded power and commanded respect. As I began to ponder more on the concept of what it means to be deemed a “vixen,” I realized that the whole is greater than the sums of its parts. To be considered and included with these other “vixens,” meant that I brought something to the table that is equally powerful, enticing, and worthwhile that goes well beyond having a physical presence. 

Many of us have had moments in life where we are our toughest critics – questioning our worth, doubting our abilities, obsessing over how others perceive us. I think being considered a vixen allows one to fully embrace their true, authentic self and showcases how their individual uniqueness has its place in this vast world. We each have physical and interpersonal traits that make us different from the next. When we acknowledge and accept such attributes and celebrate what they truly offer, it opens a window of opportunity that is filled with confidence, empowerment, even pride. The more positivity and ownership of our value that we portray to others, the more impact and inspiration it tends to have. 

Over time, I feel that I have reached my own prime. I am unapologetically, me. I have grown a tremendous amount as a person, both inside and out. I have come to learn that my qualities do carry inherent value and that my input, time, energy, and overall presence, matter. Being a part of this series has reinforced that for me. It continuously sheds light that there truly is more to a person than what we first may see and that each of us should honor, praise, and recognize our own inner vixen, in all its amazing forms.   

Sightseeing in Paris at night beautiful woman wearing lingerie exposing her beautiful legs as she looks onto the Eiffel Tower.
Sightseeing. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

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To access additional photographs from The Vixen’s Series portfolio, click herehttps://tonyward.com/the-vixens-series/

Kitchie Ohh: After Month’s of Silence

fetish model Kitchie Ohh wearing a purple corset for a fantasy scene
Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Bombshell Pinups, Copyright 2024

Text by Kitchie Ohh, Copyright 2024

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After Month’s of Silence

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Once upon a time, two people were feeling very bold. The first, we’ll call X, responded to a stranger’s- we’ll call Y-  post on social media. Y replied, which was very out of character. They chatted and ultimately threw caution to the wind, arranging to meet in real life. And that was that. One date, if that’s even what it was, then it was done. Or was it? 

Years later, X contacted Y out of the blue. It was pleasant but stayed online. No hard feelings about the past, just genuine curiosity about the present and best wishes that all was good. Again, they faded back into their separate lives. 

More years passed, again, virtual paths collided. This time, they decided to meet once more, face to face. They enjoyed each other’s company, talked about all that had happened since the last time.  One meet up turned into a second before the universe tugged them apart once more; not violently, more a steady gentle pull that both felt happening but neither did anything to prevent. 

Time went by, as it always does. They stumbled into one another again. It was as if no time had passed. They spoke daily, they went out for dinner and drinks, stayed in for home cooked meals and movies, asked and answered deep questions by a bonfire. Surprisingly and uncharacteristically, Y allowed some vulnerability. It was difficult, Y stumbled over responses and apologized many times. But it was appreciated by M, who assured it was not something for which apology was necessary. Despite being terrified, not physically, but of the potential to be let down and have it all fade away once again, Y proceeded to put in effort to foster their connection. After a particularly interesting conversation, Y purchased a small gift, a book of poetry related to that conversation, and planned to present it to X at the next opportunity. That has yet to come.

After months of silence, a message:

X: It’s like we’ve been crossing paths for lifetimes. And I never mind it each time it happens 

Y: I just keep showing up like a bad penny. 

X: If you’re a bad penny what am I?! 

You keep turning up more shiny. 

Y: You then are the lucky- or unlucky-finder.

 Depends on how you look at it. Also I am no more shiny today than any day before. Sometimes the light just hits differently. 

X:You’re a strange and beautiful human, madam. Very beautiful. 

Y: well, thank you, kindly. Until our paths cross again….

The end? To be continued? Who knows? 

fetish model Kitchie Ohh wearing a purple corset for a fantasy scene
Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Bombshell Pinups, Copyright 2024

Did you guess that I am Y?. I won’t reveal X’s identity. This isn’t really about them. It’s  about me me. The only thing I have control over in this entire universe; though even that seems questionable some days.

This entirely true story is a pattern. A known, recognizable, see it coming from a mile away occurrence. It’s happened before and likely will again. With X, with others, friends, more than friends, family. The relationship type doesn’t matter. I will learn nothing. 

Well, that’s an exaggeration. I will learn many things. But I won’t burn a bridge needlessly. 

Life is never a straight path, nor is it always a smooth one. Given those stretches where you get lost, hit a bump, or completely break down, sometimes the only thing we can do is concentrate on ourselves and getting through. In that process of self-preservation, people who were right by our side might pull away. That’s life. 

Unless someone has hurt me in some unforgivable way, I’m always happy to have our paths cross again. More often than not, there’s a lot of change to catch up on. Neither of us is exactly the same person, for as much as we may have known one another, there’s a mystery chunk of time to reconcile, and time can change people. 

Reconnections can be brief or maybe last a bit longer the second, third, hundredth,  time around. But if there’s one thing I learned traveling my own winding path, it’s that you can’t force anyone you encounter along the way to stay. Nor should you. 

This is not to say I discourage putting effort into relationships, I acknowledge that even the best ones take work. But personally, I take stock often of whether the work I’m putting in -to projects, people and relationships alike – is adding to my life. If not, I’ve become okay with letting it go, letting them go, with love and understanding, better for the having had the experience.

I look forward to all that lies ahead for me, the new and the familiar. What comes my way, stays or goes. People, places, adventures, the happiness and the heartbreak, all of it.  

Related note: 

I re-read the book I purchased for X and made a decision, it’s theirs. I’m just holding onto it until our paths cross again. And if they don’t, then I will think of them fondly as I flip through the pages. 

Additionally, I’m sharing this fairy tale photo set because as soon as the words “once upon a time” escaped from my brain, through the keyboard, to the screen, I have been singing “Once Upon a Dream” from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty and, well, it had to be done. 

fetish model Kitchie Ohh wearing a purple corset for a fantasy scene
Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Bombshell Pinups, Copyright 2024

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.

You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here: https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-oh-its-nothing/

Kitchie Ohh: Oh, It’s Nothing!

Glamour portrait of the very sexy pinup model Kitchie OHH for Tony Ward Studio
Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Victor Devilbliss. Copyright 2024

Text by Kitchie Ohh, Copyright 2024

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Oh, It’s Nothing!

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If you’ve read my earlier posts here, you know how close I am with my family. They are a large part of the person I am today. If you haven’t, well, that’s kind of an understatement but still true.

Recently, I was shocked to get the several days delayed news that my mother had fallen and severely injured herself. She required immediate surgery and would need to remain in the hospital. It was very little consolation that this injury occurred while she was doing what she and my father love- seeing the world from on board a cruise ship- or that said ship was docked in the gorgeous port of Maui, Hawaii at the time. She was, literally, on the other side of the world, and there was not a damn thing I could do to help. 

When we were finally able to speak, my parents told me of the excellent care at the hospital, the kindness delivered alongside the routine medical services. And, of course, they were thankful that the hospital was near beachfront and they had a gorgeous view. They could still see a bit of Hawaii, despite their situation. 

My siblings and I, unknown to either of our parents, sprang into action, assigning and volunteering for key tasks that would need to be completed before mom came home. She would be unable to climb stairs for 6 weeks, maybe longer. There was no way we could allow her to come home without a plan that was in equal parts for her recuperation and for our peace of mind. We would need to make the ground floor comfortable enough to be a makeshift bedroom for her, clear enough to safely accommodate a wheelchair or walker, private enough to allow for daily hygiene tasks if she couldn’t get to the bathroom.There was more we didn’t know about what she needed, than what we did.  Everything we could think to do, was done, having no idea when -or HOW- they would be getting home. We were as ready as we could be. 

Luckily, my niece was with them and made the necessary flight and hotel arrangements to get them all safely from there to here. Just shy of one week from the day we heard the news, we were planning for their arrival back to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating. A week of storms made travel more dangerous, not to mention added the never fun task of snow and ice removal to our to-do list. But that evening, the flight remained on time and we got mom and dad (niece and fiancée, too) home safely, to a clear driveway, and an organized house with only a few minor hiccups not even worth mentioning. 

As we settled them in and listened to all of the details between hugs and tears, the relief everyone felt was obvious. Home is a magical, comforting place. We pointed out all that was done in preparation and made sure nothing was missed, addressing if it was. Soon, all of us were yawning, it was definitely time to rest, but not before confirming the remainder of the plan. 

Reconvening the following morning, we shopped, chopped, cooked and meal prepped, cleaned and did laundry. We made it easy for dad to keep things going while he worried and fussed over mom. We also sat around and did what we do best. We ate, we talked and laughed, made wildly inappropriate jokes and brought back a sense of normalcy. 

Completely overwhelmed, mom repeatedly apologized, dad paced, and both thanked us profusely. As we finished up tasks, made sure every detail was handled, Dad beamed, telling us how proud he was at the way we pulled together; no arguing, no questions asked, just jumping into action when they were in need. 

My first thought was to say “oh, it’s nothing!” but recalled another instance of stepping in to handle a stressful situation for someone else and the response that remark got me.“Don’t ever say that. It may seem insignificant to you, but that small thing, that “nothing” meant so much more than words can express.” And so, standing in the kitchen, drying my hands after cleaning up the last of our mess, I hugged my dad, tightly, and told him, “that’s what we do, right? It’s what you and mom taught us, by showing us. If there’s something you can do to help, you do it. We love you.” 

Honestly, there really isn’t a better lesson I can think of that they taught me by setting this example. It’s not one that only applies in times of crisis or just to family either. An action, a compliment, getting someone their favorite snack just because, being a hug or shoulder to cry on, whatever it may be, however little effort it took, it means something. It could mean everything to that person in that moment. 

It’s the smallest things bring me the most joy, whether I’m providing or receiving them. Grand gestures make me uncomfortable. Words often go unsaid. But the ‘I saw this and thought of you,’ the ‘I did that thing you’ve been putting off so you don’t have to worry about it,’ the everyday mundane, small things, the going slightly out of your way, tolerating a mildly inconvenient moment for the benefit of someone else, unasked….THAT is love in the purest, kindest form. 

So, in this month of all things chocolate, roses, hearts and love, as people bend over backward for their Valentines for one day,  think smaller. It might mean more than you will ever know. 

Glamour portrait of the very sexy pinup model Kitchie OHH for Tony Ward Studio
Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Victor Devilbliss. Copyright 2024

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.

You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here: https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-thanks-i-feel-awful/

Savanna: On Swings


Text by Savanna, Copyright 2024

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On Swings

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Photography by Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

Creative Director: KVaughn

Hair and Makeup: Octavia Monroe

Lighting Assistant: Anthony Colagreco

BTS: Al B For

Rope Work: Scorpiana

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Last year, to my delight, I got to meet and get close to someone quite special. This someone turns out to be my inner child, and she is so rambunctious. Lively, mischievous — all she wants to do is have fun. And I think I am becoming one of her biggest fans.

I’ve been thinking a lot about swings (and her) lately. She brings with her memories of twisted-up steel chains, raveling and unraveling at inhuman speeds. Interlocking ankles with friends, swings swinging higher and higher, back and forth until the mishmash of ankles finally comes loose. (We called these ‘banana splits.’) Fast racing heartbeats as she and her friends dared each other to jump as far as they could. She would even place the seat against the middle of her back so she could wrap her little legs around the chains above and swing upside down.

This shoot for The Vixens Series was full of firsts. It was my first shoot in collaboration with Tony Ward, his studio, and his creative team. It was the studio and team’s first shoot incorporating Shibari and rope suspension elements. I love rope. Consensual rope bondage involves using rope as a means of restricting movement, wrapping, suspending, or restraining someone; it is a subsection of BDSM activities and has roots in Japanese rope bondage. When I think about it, I’m not surprised that this is what my adult self has fallen in love with. An inclination to be on the ground and to feel all the sensations internally and externally. It’s the “just feeling” part. Flavors of rope that I particularly enjoy: when my head is in my body, the mental endurance, challenging the reality of pain, the goofiness, the exploratory moments of seeing what my body can physically take and its range of motion, and the connectivity I can experience with others.

If I think about it a little more, I can see the little spirited inner child beside me, along for the ride. And she’s having so, so much fun.

Out of the different looks during our collaborative shoot, my favorite was our rope concept. I don’t have much experience with a fashion editorial-style shoot, and the team hadn’t done rope bondage in previous shoots. We were suddenly on the precipice of something new. We were all explorers! I loved that we were all experiencing something new together — through one another. To me, being seen as a vixen is a shared experience. It is to explore the unexplored with others, feel with them, react with them; it is something everyone contributes to.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Savanna currently resides in New York. She enjoys finding new music, traveling, experimenting cooking with different foods, and caring for her plants.  This is Savanna’s first contribution to Tony Ward Studio. To access additional articles by Savanna, link here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/savanna-autonomy/

Kitchie Ohh: Thanks, I Feel Awful

Topless photo of Kitchie Ohh with natural large breasts
Kitchie Ohh. Photos by Jeff Cohn, Copyright 2024

Text by Kitchie Ohh, Copyright 2024

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Thanks, I Feel Awful

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Well, here we are again. Another year over, another just beginning. Once again, I am not making -or advocating the making of- resolutions. I’ll spend the next 365 or whatever time the universe has allotted to me, being the best me I can be. But who is the judge of that? The best. What does it even mean?

For the longest time, every thought I had about myself was the worst. So much of my identify and self-worth was tied up in how others viewed me, physically. I’ll feel better and people will like me more when … I tried so hard; then tried harder to stop that way of thinking and acting. But, recently, I slid so far backward, so quickly, so easily, that I almost didn’t recognize it. Or myself. 

I think we can all safely say that the period of time since March 2020 has been a crazy ride. The pandemic, the sudden end to life as we knew it and a figure it out as we go along new way of doing everything. At the time, I was working in what would be deemed an essential service agency. The stress of the “what if we shut down?” thoughts and everything that went into assuring staff and clients alike that this would not happen was rough. Having a role that allowed working remotely was a blessing and a curse. I could stay safe and healthy but see no one and go nowhere. I was relieved to still have a job and a purpose, but felt like I had almost lost complete control over everything else. 

I am a creature of habit; routine helps me make sense of things. So when every step of my daily to do list came to a crashing halt in 2020, I had to start over with a new one. For years I went to the gym every day after work. I meal prepped, typically the same healthy ingredients in different combinations breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I was successfully maintaining a significant weight loss. It’s horrible and kind of embarrassing to admit, but one of my first thoughts at the beginning of the pandemic was fear that I would gain it back from inactivity and stress eating. Which I kicked myself for and then proceeded to stress eat and do nothing, gaining several pounds as a result. I began beating myself up for it and threw myself into creating the new routine.

Step one, acquire a home workout platform subscription. Step two, find a program that needed little to no equipment. Step three, meal plan and prep. Easy peasy. Things started off okay, it took a few weeks to get into the groove, but I did, and even started to enjoy the program. Then work began getting more stressful. I found myself throwing myself harder into working out because I didn’t have to think about anyone or anything else when I was doing it. I started noticing changes, I definitely lost a few of the found pounds. I liked that, a lot. Suddenly I found myself working out multiple times a day. Wake up, workout. Lunch break, workout. After dinner, workout. The virtual “friends” I made, all following the same program at various levels were great for the personal connection I was missing but they were also terrible influences in disguise. Every day, we checked in with what workouts did, what we ate and what we were planning to eat, complimenting each other on class milestones and physical transformations, encouraging one another to keep going, calling it ‘accountability.’ Really we were all just comparing ourselves to one another, one-upping each other, doing our best to feel fitter, better, prettier, more perfect than people we didn’t really know. 

I loved having a new routine. What I loved even more was seeing the weight drop off as a result. I lost more than I had gained back. I was the smallest I had ever been in my adult life. Eating the caloric equivalent of a toddler’s diet while working out for 2+ hours every day will do that to ya. I was posting my progress on social media, reveling in the virtual praise. When the pandemic restrictions started to ease just a little, I took any opportunity that presented itself to see people in person, distanced or masked, at work, with family, or friends. Without fail, I was greeted with compliments. I minimized the effort and deflected questions, especially from the people who knew me best. I knew what they were going to tell me, I already knew it myself. I had developed an eating disorder. Hey, guys what? They’re not just for teenaged girls. I was obsessed with the need to burn off every excess calorie because it might come back with thousands of its friends to ruin my new look. And so I only consumed the bare minimum but burned the maximum, every day. My pants were smaller, but my hair was falling out. My stomach was flat, but I hadn’t had a period in months. I couldn’t get warm, my hands and feet often went ghostly pale and lost feeling at the slightest temperature fluctuation. But I was thin. I felt like shit, but I looked great. For vanity’s sake I kept it up for two years.

One day, it finally clicked how miserable I was. This was an extreme (and extremely dangerous) reaction to feeling like I had lost control. I counted and restricted everything, planned my day to the minute, because I was in charge of this one little part of my life. Somehow, it had gotten way out of control and taken over. I see the irony now. 

I slowly began to reduce the workouts and use extra time to actually relax; only berating myself a little bit for being lazy before realizing how tired I was and how much I needed to slow down. I increased my calorie intake, veering off my trusty, super restricted, weighed and measured food prep menu one meal at a time; only panicking a little when going over my “daily limit.” It took me quite a while to stop logging every ingredient of every meal to know the exact macros. I deleted the apps at the beginning of this year and have purposefully not made or eaten any of the go-to meals from that plan. The final thing I had to do was cut the virtual ties with my “fitness friends.” I left the accountability space. I stopped reporting calories in and out to anyone. I stopped watching others set and hit goal weights or share another nonfat, low-carb, no sugar, it’s almost got enough substance to be considered food, healthy recipe, and pretend to enjoy it.  

I still have a routine. Most days begin with a workout, but just one and under an hour. I eat what, when I want and no phone app is involved. Sure, I have gained some weight, and had to purchase new pants. But, I’m definitely healthier, especially mentally. Some days are still harder than others. 

You would think that recognizing and changing unhealthy behaviors would make it easier to avoid them in the future. Sadly, as I look at myself in the mirror, or in a picture and begin the inevitable self-criticism, I sometimes find myself thinking that if I go that hard again – just for a few weeks – I’d look better. That’s the problem, I know it would work. Those smaller equals better feelings and compliments would come again, but I now know their steep price tags. 

So as we start this fresh new year, my non-resolution promise is to remember worth isn’t dependent upon an external standard of beauty; especially if achieving that standard requires compromising health. The people that love and respect me don’t do so because of my dress size, or because I choose a salad over a pizza. And those that do care about those things, aren’t worth my time. 

No matter what the flood of email and social media ads might say this month, being our best shouldn’t mean the skinniest, most attractive, hardest to attain and maintain version of someone else’ perfection. It should mean being the happiest, healthiest, most genuine, truest to ourselves versions. That’s what I’m striving for, this year and always. 

Whatever your stance on resolutions, Happy 2024. 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.

You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here: https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-the-most-wondeful-time-of-year/