She’s an assassin. She murders for money. And yet, somehow, I couldn’t look away. There’s something fascinating — almost transgressive — about Villanelle as a character. She’s everything women are told not to be: manipulative, dangerous, unpredictable. She kills, lies, seduces. And she does it all in designer heels and flawless outfits. It’s grotesque and gorgeous at the same time — and that’s exactly the point. We’ve seen men like her before. Dexter. Hannibal. Even James Bond. Cold, clever killers with charisma and style. But when a woman takes that role? It becomes a different conversation. Because suddenly, it challenges our expectations. It forces us to ask: Why are these traits
unacceptable in women, when they’re iconic in men? Watching Villanelle, I felt equal parts horror and admiration. She breaks every rule, not just of society, but of how women are supposed to behave. And yet… she’s magnetic. She’s powerful. You can’t ignore her.

And then there’s Eve — the MI5 agent chasing her. Intelligent, awkward, obsessed. Their relationship isn’t simple. It’s not just good vs. evil. It’s a twisted mirror — one woman drawn to everything the other represents. I find that tension incredibly interesting, because I’ve felt it in my own life, too. That push and pull between who we are, and who we could be if we let go of all expectations. Villanelle isn’t someone I want to become. But she is someone who inspires me to be bolder. To stop apologizing. To embrace complexity, contradiction, even chaos. To think of femininity not as softness, but as strategy. Not as obedience, but as agency. As women, we’re often taught to stay within the lines. To be predictable, polite, palatable. Villanelle is none of those things — and that’s why I chose her as a muse. Because sometimes, the most radical thing you can do is take up space without permission. To be the question mark in a world that demands answers. She may be the villain. But she’s also the spark. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.

-XXX- Marlies