Seven Names and an Enormous Playlist
Her full name runs seven initials deep: Raphaela Maria Elisabeth Michaela Victoria Tiziana Anouk. Born in Vienna in 1992, she carries the city the way people from Vienna always seem to—a particular blend of softness and self-possession, the sense that culture is something you live inside rather than visit on weekends. The one place she’d consider as an alternative is Iceland. Somewhere in the calculation there are lambs.
She recites Ich bin so wild nach deinem Erdbeermund
in the bathtub—that line, all heat and want—and reads Arthur Rimbaud for the pleasure of how the words sit against each other. Poetry and prose that some people find objectionable. She finds those people dull.
Her film taste runs toward the specifically female and specifically unhinged: Winona Ryder and Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted, Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson in Vicky Christina Barcelona, Eva Green in Cracks. She’s working through a complete Woody Allen collection, which is the kind of project you either understand or you don’t. She loves the Nouvelle Vague—those French directors who decided cinema didn’t need to follow cinema’s own rules.
The playlist is its own argument: Au Revoir Simone, Beach House, Best Coast, Fever Ray, First Aid Kit, Get Well Soon, Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson, Jónsi & Alex, Lykke Li, Max Richter. France Gall, Mareva Galanter, Carla Bruni running parallel because the French pop strand never really closes. Soap&Skin, deep and long—the only correct way. Stereo Total for the ambiguity; Element of Crime for its opposite. And when she needs to walk through a city feeling like herself: Wir sind Helden.
She prefers shirts—oxford blue or flannel plaid, doesn’t matter. She has never dyed her hair. She hasn’t eaten meat in years. She dresses preppy and boho without apparent contradiction. If she had money she’d own several versions of a Birkin Bag, which is honestly a very Viennese thing to aspire to.
The stated goal isn’t world domination. Just a life without too much worry, earned through art. It sounds modest until you sit with it—the seven-name gravity of someone who already knows exactly what she likes and is working backward from there toward the life that fits it.