Bad Vilbel, Berlin, Forever Alone

Saskia insists on La Perla underwear because she cares about materials—which is one of those details that makes a whole person suddenly coherent. She’s 21, from a small town outside Frankfurt, about to move to Florence to study fashion design; she blogs, sews, photographs, dresses entirely by mood. The look is American Apparel blouse, Levi’s Vintage denim shorts, Wolford tights, Prada patent shoes, a long linen jacket—somehow casual despite the per-item cost. She says men like wildness, her hair is always wild, so the math works out.

Björn is 29, a nurse from Berlin. He makes noise rock, listens to 60s and 70s beat and garage and psychedelic records, buys clothes in Berlin and London. The suitcase in the photo he found somewhere and now uses to carry 7-inch vinyl, which is exactly right. What irritates him most about his look is people telling him his sunglasses are on backwards. They’re not on backwards. He says he looks terrible naked and dressed alike. I believe him, but I also believe he’s delivered that line before and knows it lands.

Daniel is 19, from Pressbaum outside Vienna, currently spending his time complaining with a friend that neither of them will ever find someone who loves them as they are—forever alone—and photographing things. He shops flea markets and H&M because designer prices are out, but frames it as philosophy: a safari through obscure back-alley shops beats paying full price for something mass-owned. His style runs from mega-hip gay chic to sneaker-wearing suburban boy depending on the day. He says he looks best naked, ideally photographed mid-meal—that’s when his real self shows up. The person beside him in the photo is his sister. He dressed her too.