Pretty in Pink

Taylin from Montreal wore an I Love New York shirt at eighteen. Those shirts died decades ago. But showing up in something that dead for that long and wearing it straight, no irony, just a person in a dead shirt - that takes either confidence or zero self-consciousness. Maybe they’re the same thing.

Sebastien’s a designer from Paris. Red Vans, black jeans tight enough to plan for, a Zara jacket - correct choices that somehow add up to nothing. The Elvis shirt saves it. There’s something about pulling on something specific like that and just moving through the world in it like it’s normal that separates people who actually dress from people following a formula.

In New York people just dress different. More skin, more movement, more willingness to fill space in clothes that shouldn’t work but do, because they move like they own the place. It’s not elegant but confidence makes it work.

Romina’s fifteen from Düsseldorf, ponytail and Chucks - the standard teenage street style look. Nothing original, nothing surprising. She looks at the camera like she actually believes something good is coming, and maybe that’s what counts.

Clark and Jennifer are in neon Pikachu everything and they’re completely wrecked. Not fun-wrecked - the actual kind, where you can see it catching up with them, wearing them down. Cartoon characters on your body while you barely stand isn’t cute, it’s just sad.