The Dip C Diaries

Welcome to The Dip C Diaries, where you can immerse yourself in the captivating stories of DipC girls who empower and inspire. These stories offer a glimpse into the lives of women who embrace their individuality and empower others to do the same.

 

Our DipC girl of the month is Iris Savatovsky

We’re so excited to spotlight the incredibly talented Iris Savatovsky—a beautiful writer currently based in Barcelona. Iris explores themes of femininity, nature, and the poetry of everyday life through her thoughtful writing and daily reflections on the world around her.

She’s written a special piece just for us—don’t miss it!
For more of her work, check out her Substack: @keepingitsurreal

Dear DipC,

 

Even though it’s been almost eight months, I honestly still feel freshly fragmented after the end of my last relationship. The rawness of love with no object has taken its sweet time to settle in—and with it has come the gentle demand to redirect all that energy back toward myself.

It seems I am relearning self-love, the second time around.  

I see now how it’s not so black and white, the way it once felt in adolescence. This time is more of a fine-tuning—not you love yourself or you don’t, but a refining, a return inward.

Radiance is really the only thing that I think can keep someone young—to embody a luminosity that persists against age and all else. More life experience makes way for me to shed the layers that suggest I should dim myself down, obscure my inner light, impede on my sense of aliveness. Remaining romantic above all else, especially with myself, is a centre point from which that glow emanates.

So, I’m rediscovering the intensity of the place inside myself where that source of infinite romance is concentrated. Learning to appreciate the weight of it, wondering where all my inclinations accumulated over time, observing my own being as the only constant. 

I’m flirting with the world and watching it flirt back—even if badly. I’m learning to laugh at it all: moments of serendipity, shared gazes with strangers. Figments of my imagination, really—a feedback loop wherein by projecting fantasy onto others, I am only shown the boundlessness of my own creativity.

I’m wearing red lace, silk skirts with slits down the side, and feeling like a goddess all the time: massaging my neck, doing dancing meditations in the morning.

I’m catching glimpses of myself in the shower, in the mirror, in the mirror in the bathroom in front of the shower. I’m feeling at home in my body, in my very safe embrace: eyes closed, head in the clouds, washing the dishes, dreaming.

I’m talking to myself out loud on the street, to my reflection, to my front camera. Remembering that it has always been us against the world, and that there is no one I would rather venture through breakups, breakthroughs, or breakdowns with.

By now, I’ve slept around, fallen in love, been alone. My body has been worshipped, and I’ve committed the sacred act myself a million times. I’ve built rituals around morning and night; surrendered my freedom, and taken it back tenfold; been pursued, rejected, neglected, adored. 

I’ve grazed and been glazed over by dozens and yet only the tenderness of my own presence is what remains. Every act of affection that I welcome is only a gesture of my own openness. It is not an act of loneliness to desire, to decorate my life with lovers and the like. As long as I remain at the centre of my sensuality.

DipC keeps me embodied in this best essence, where I am pure love in the vessel of a pretty girl. Where I can be the virgin, the vixen, the Madonna, the whore — a lovable multitude draped in the finest lingerie.

~ DipC keeps me embodied