On a sultry evening in Paris's Pigalle district, a riverboat drifts along the Seine. Inside, revellers clutch hand-branded silk knickers while a figure on stage channels the spirit of Leonard Cohen through red lipstick and Catholic guilt. This is where Luvcat's story begins – or at least, it's a version of where it begins. There's more than one wildly different rendition of the tale, you see. It's a whole thing that perfectly fits the romance and drama surrounding Luvcat like a thick fog of very expensive perfume.

Some say it started on the streets of Liverpool, where a teenage busker caught the ear of a passing Waterboy with her rendition of 'The Whole of the Moon'. Others swear by the tale BBC Radio told before spinning her first single, about a tempestuous affair with a circus ringleader [We've all been there - Ed]. The truth, as with all the best stories, might - if we're being generous with our narratives here - lie somewhere between the romance and the reality. Fitting, really, considering that's exactly where Luvcat's music makes its home.

Fresh from her latest Parisian adventure and "full of love, and baguettes", Luvcat has emerged as British music's most compelling new storyteller, crafting songs that exist somewhere between Nick Cave's murder ballads and Cabaret's tragic glamour. Her work feels less like a creative project and more like a series of perfectly staged accidents - the kind where everyone's wearing vintage couture when they crash.

Take her latest single, 'Dinner @ Brasserie Zedel', arriving (naturally) on Halloween. It's a perfect encapsulation of the Luvcat aesthetic - equal parts champagne wishes and barroom confessions, all wrapped up in decadent drama. "It all came spilling out whilst I was sitting at my piano last September," she recalls, her voice carrying the same intensity that fills her songs. "I just met someone I really fucking fancied. All I wanted was to dress up fancy and be taken to Soho, to a white tablecloth restaurant, spending the night with him, drinking wine and saying dirty things to each other."

The theatrical nature of Luvcat's work stems from influences that read like the record collection of a particularly dramatic teenager who's just out to start a rebellion. "My Chemical Romance were my childhood band, so I think a lot of their gothic theatrics seeped into me," she explains. It's a foundation that makes perfect sense - take MCR's flair for the dramatic, add a dash of decadence, and you're getting close to Luvcat's particular flavour of musical absinthe.

These influences run deeper than mere aesthetic choice. "I'm the only person in my family who actually plays an instrument, but everyone is completely mad about music. My dad's taste has completely informed mine, which I feel very lucky about." It's a musical education that has allowed her to build something both timeless and distinctly modern - as if The Cure's Robert Smith had a torrid affair with Liza Minnelli, and their love child grew up watching old Hollywood films in Liverpool basement bars. Which, frankly, might be yet another potential Luvcat origin story.

The path to releasing music wasn't exactly straightforward - but then again, nothing in Luvcat's world ever is. "I definitely wasn't planning on releasing any music for a while, but a video from one of our first gigs in my local pub in London blew up online, so we released the single independently as quickly as we could." From there, things escalated with the kind of dramatic pacing usually reserved for more fantastical novellas. "We put out another single and have been playing as many shows as possible, including our first headlines in London and Liverpool at the Kazimier Garden."

These shows have become notorious for their intensity - and occasional drama when ex-lovers attempt to gain entry [Proper Heathcliff-at-the-window stuff, this - Ed]. The story goes that, at that Liverpool show, Luvcat was greeted by three former beaus gawping back from the crowd, and another trying to break in up the stairs. Like everyone else, they evidently can't get enough.

Away from our less romantic haunts, Paris remains central to the Luvcat mythology, a city that seems to have been waiting for her arrival since the days of Edith Piaf. "Our first headline show in Paris will stay with me forever, definitely," she reflects. "Seeing beautiful people in another country singing every word to unreleased songs was kinda overwhelming. Especially because our first show ever was actually on a riverboat on the Seine last May. I only had about four songs to my name, so we played lots of Leonard Cohen – it felt like a proper full-circle moment to be back."

The dark romanticism that permeates every aspect of Luvcat's work isn't just for show - it's the engine that drives her creative process. "The twisted romance thing has always been my muse," she acknowledges. Her songs feel like love letters written in lipstick on mirror shards, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. When asked about her recreational pursuits, her answer is characteristically direct: "I really like kissing. That's fun."

Even the Halloween release date of 'Dinner @ Brasserie Zedel' feels less like a marketing strategy and more like cosmic alignment. "I love it, yeah. Something about the air always smells different on All Hallows' Eve," she reflects, before revealing a delightful crack in her gothic facade. "But for someone who writes dark songs, I am actually such a scaredy-cat. When I was a teenager, I once worked as a ghost actor for a Halloween event at an old stately home in Liverpool. They sent me home because I was more scared than the guests." Her Halloween costume of choice? "Morticia Addams, always."

The autumn holds both glamour and shifting fates. "We're going to be on the road for most of November," Luvcat recounts, "which I couldn't be more excited for, opening for The Last Dinner Party in Europe in some of the dreamiest venues I've ever seen." While the full European run has since been condensed due to The Last Dinner Party's need to prioritise their wellbeing, Luvcat is still gracing stages from Paris to Prague, including stops in Brussels, Amsterdam, and Berlin. It's a perfect pairing - both acts understand the power of presentation, though Luvcat's take feels more like cabaret noir to TLDP's baroque pop fantasia.

And for those seeking a piece of that thickly layered mythology to take home? "We're just about to have merch silk panties available on our website shop," she reveals. "They are so cute and cheeky and always get snapped up after our shows."

Wherever the truth and fiction actually do meet, Luvcat's particular brand of dramatised truth-telling feels like rarified air - albeit air perfumed with incense and expensive French cigarettes. She's writing her own deep lore in real-time, one that exists in the spaces between story and substance, between the grandiose and the intimate. While other artists recount their real lives in lurid detail, Luvcat is weaving an augmented reality that understands that escapism is a balm to the grey skies and daily churn. Her songs hang in the air behind her - intoxicating, mysterious, impossible to replicate.

That twisted romance that defines her music shows no signs of fading. If anything, it's growing stronger with each release, each performance, each dramatic tale of love gone wrong. As 'Dinner @ Brasserie Zedel' arrives, it marks another chapter in a story that began on a Parisian riverboat – or maybe on a Liverpool street corner, or perhaps in a circus tent. The truth is complex and layered, revealing different notes to different noses. But with songs like these, who really needs to know what's real? Sometimes, the story is sweeter than reality could ever be.