Blurred Lines

Roxy 79- Private Frequency

This chapter isn’t about defining yourself.
It’s about deciding what reaches you.

What you hear.
What you see.
What you carry inside.

An edited reality.
A selective presence.
A private frequency.

There are lines we inherit.

And lines we learn to draw.
Some are visible. Stitches. Ribs. Stripes. Seams that hold a form together.

Others are invisible.
Boundaries. Thresholds. The quiet agreements we make with the world about what we will tolerate, reveal, protect, or withhold.

Touché has always lived in that space.
Between exposure and armor.
Between invitation and refusal.
Between softness and authority.

Roxy’s lines are literal.
Ribbed leather.
Striped cuffs.

Rhythms that move along the hand and up the arm like coordinates.

They are not decorative.
They are structural.
They guide the eye.
They discipline the form.

They remind the body where it begins and where it ends.

But no line is ever perfectly stable.
With wear, it softens.
With movement, it shifts.
With time, it blurs.
So do we.

We learn rules.
We draw borders.
We say: here, not there. This, not that.

Until life intervenes.
Until desire complicates things.
Until ambition stretches the frame.
Until love, work, loss, or hunger redraws the map.

Suddenly, the clean division dissolves.
Strength carries vulnerability.
Independence contains longing.
Elegance holds rebellion.

The line is still there.
It’s just no longer rigid.

Roxy was designed for that state.
Not for extremes.
Not for absolutes.

For women who move between roles without apologizing.
Who understand that control and surrender are not opposites. They are collaborators.

The ribbing gives structure.
The stripes suggest motion.
Together, they create tension.

Order and disruption.
Precision and play.
Discipline and seduction.

Blurred, but not erased.

Because boundaries are not meant to disappear. They are meant to evolve.

A glove is, by nature, a boundary.
It separates skin from world.
Intimacy from exposure.
Touch from intrusion.

But in Touché, that boundary is intentional. Chosen.
Curated.
Claimed.

You decide what crosses it.
You decide where it softens.

Blurred lines are not weakness. 
They are mastery.

They belong to those who no longer need rigid defenses, because they know exactly who they are.

They can bend without breaking.
Reveal without surrendering.
Invite without losing authority.