Fuck conformity. When we spotted Adrian, that Germany/Taiwan-based rebel, we knew we had to make a move. No bullshit pleasantries—we straight up ambushed him with our gear. Turns out, the guy's got taste. He didn't just like our shit; he decided to flaunt it for the world to see. No fake modesty here. So there you have it. Our first CLFV piece, making waves in the concrete jungle of Taipei, Taiwan. Asia never saw it coming.

Probably not your grandma's dirndl-wearing Bavarian babe, or maybe her grandma loves her for exactly this reason. We do not know Alicia's a walking middle finger to conservative bullshit leaving a trail of drop jaws and clutched pearls in her wake. Bavaria might be having collective a new Sims over her look but Berlin? Berlin's fucking salivating. Forget your Rick Owens goth minimalism. Thats childs play Alicia serving a profession cocktail that would make Avril Lavigne and fka twigs nod in approval this isn't just grunge anymore people this is crunch that went to finishing school.

Tangier, Morocco - where the elite think they're untouchable. We had other plans. Time to shake up their precious status quo with a dose of Bad Portier rebellion. Enter Ziad - our Moroccan minimalist maverick and monochrome mastermind. He knew the monotonous fashion scene needed a swift kick in the ass. So what did he do? Embraced our "Unique Perspective" like it was the antidote to mediocrity. Check him out in this shot, owning our élémentaire collection like it's his second skin. No fucks given about fitting in. And his crew? They're not just noticing - they're eating it up. Because in a world of grey personalities, Ziad's serving up a black and white reality check.

We slipped Chloe some Bad Portier black, and holy shit, did she run with it. This isn't just a day-to-night transformation; it's a fucking interdimensional leap. One second she's all bubble gum and rainbows, the next she's the dark empress of Manila. Chloe's not just pushing boundaries; she's obliterating them with a sledgehammer wrapped in pastel ribbons. By day, she's the living embodiment of kawaii—so goddamn adorable Hayao Miyazaki would weep tears of joy. But when the sun dips below the horizon? That's when the real magic happens. From the sweltering Manila days to the electric, pulsing nights, Chloe's serving looks that'll make your head spin. She's the Jekyll and Hyde of fashion, the yin and yang of style, all rolled into one pint-sized package of pure, unadulterated badassery.

March '24. Handball phenom Nils Kretschmer spotted flexing in our yet-to-drop Bad Portier drip and the élémentaire classics. His take? "Feels like heaven." Breathtaking quality? Come on. That's what we do. But this isn't about clothes. It's about a fucking aesthetic monochrome revolution erupting in your backyard. We're not your typical gangsters, and we sure as hell ain't snobs. But the moment you think you've got us figured out... BAM! It hits you. This shit's different. Unapologetically so. We didn't come to play nice or blend in. We're here to rewrite the rulebook, snap necks with double-takes, and make the status quo break out in cold sweats. From gritty street corners to gleaming sports arenas, Bad Portier is colonizing every damn inch. The invasion isn't coming – it's already here, and you're living in it.

Lana Santucci isn't just breaking the mold—she's fucking obliterating it. This Brazilian bombshell doesn't give two shits about your gender labels or societal expectations. She's carved her own path with a jawline sharp enough to slice through bullshit and a boss energy that'll make your head spin. When Lana struts her stuff in Bad Portier, it's not just fashion—it's a goddamn revolution. Our acid pieces? They're her war paint. Her "don't fuck with me" armor. So here's a pro tip: When you see Lana coming in Bad Portier, you've got two choices. Get on board or get the fuck out of the way. Because this fashion icon isn't asking for permission. She's not seeking approval. She's here to conquer, and she's doing it in style.

Our fucking general in Seoul, leading the charge in our assault on conformity. She's not here to play nice or fit in. She's here to conquer, to subvert, to make the fashion world bow at her feet. Welcome to the new era of Korean fashion. It's dark, it's dangerous, and it's dressed in Bad Portier. Word of advice: Watch what you say around her. Not because we're saying she's got a Death Note tucked away (but hey, who knows?), but because one look from those eyes could turn your world to ash.

This isn't just another pretty face, people. We're talking about a walking, breathing work of art that's redefining what it means to be a male model. Laurean doesn't just wear clothes; he fucking elevates them to another dimension. Picture this: Bad Portier gear against the gritty backdrop of a Romanian alleyway or the neon-soaked streets of Paris. It's not a photoshoot—it's a fucking renaissance painting come to life. Laurean's got this uncanny ability to make our threads look like they grew straight out of the concrete and rust. You think you've seen fashion photography? Think again. Laurean's eye for composition is so sharp it could cut diamond. He doesn't just take pictures; he creates whole damn worlds where Bad Portier is the lingua franca. Laurean Edward II isn't just wearing Bad Portier. He's not just modeling it. He's becoming it. He's the physical embodiment of everything we stand for—rebellion, artistry, and rewriting the fucking rulebook on what fashion can be.

We're about to introduce you to a chameleon who's rewriting the rules of style faster than you can say "anime reference." Nana? Nico Robin? Fuck that noise. Ivy's not here to be your waifu or fit into your otaku wet dreams. She's carving out her own goddamn niche, and it's leaving jaws on the floor from Munich to Macao. Ivy's a shape-shifting mastermind, morphing from modern rockstar to urban pirate faster than you can blink. She isn't here to spoon-feed you fashion. She's here to challenge you, to make you question everything you thought you knew about style. And yeah, we know she'd roll her eyes at our basic-bitch anime comparisons. That's because Ivy's operating on a whole other level, you plebs. So here's a pro tip: Pay attention. Every outfit, every post, every seemingly throwaway comment is part of a bigger picture. It's a jigsaw puzzle of badassery, and if you're not sharp enough to put it together, that's your loss.

Arina's serving up style with a side of raw, unfiltered reality. She's not just turning heads; she's snapping necks from Odessa to London, and everywhere in between. You think you know pressure? Try curating cutting-edge looks while sirens wail in the background. But does she crack? Hell no. She rises, she creates, she conquers. Her recent Vogue UK feature isn't just a spread—it's a middle finger to adversity, a testament to the unbreakable spirit of art in the face of chaos. Apart from the majestic exterior, Arina's got more depth than the Mariana Trench. While other influencers are busy taking selfies, she's diving headfirst into books, culture, and self-actualization. She's not just wearing the clothes; she's embodying the essence of what fashion means in a world teetering on the edge.

Let's cut to the chase – Gina's got more allure than a siren's song and a personality that could charm the spots off a leopard. Mix that cocktail, and you've got a potency that's off the charts. One moment she's channeling Bettie Page, the next she's a rockabilly queen ready to lead a pompadour rebellion. Just when you think you've pinned her down, she'll hit you with a festival look so electric it'll power a small city. Now, let's talk about our recent street essentials shoot. Sounds vanilla, right? Wrong. It wasn't just a shoot; it was a goddamn revelation. And this was just our basic line. When we unleash her on our upcoming collection? Hang on tight – this fashion rollercoaster is leaving the station, and there are no seatbelts.

Parisian culture isn't just a lifestyle; it's a fortress. The slang, the attitude, the whole damn vibe – it's an enigma wrapped in a mystery, deep-fried in "you'll never get it." If you're not from here, you're not just lost; you're on a different planet. Forget trying to decipher the Parisian enigma. Ditch your pathetic attempts at French slang. When Icy B, the Parisian style savant, decides to rock our CLFV hoodie, it's more than just a nod of approval. It's like getting tapped on the shoulder by fashion royalty – a subtle, yet unmistakable induction into the upper echelons of style. In the grand theatre of Parisian fashion, where everyone's seen it all, Icy B just gave us a quiet "n'est pas mal" – and in this world, that's worth more than a thousand screaming fans.

And for the grand finale. In our corner, bringing 100% authenticity and 150% savagery, we've got our ride-or-die supporter, the fucking legend of tattoo and body art - Jan Radek. When we first crossed paths, we laid out our plan for world domination. He hit us back with why he does what he does. Why he decided to place a full-size skull tattoo on his face, among other bold life choices that'd make your grandma faint. These are the kind of decisions that make "normal" people clutch their pearls and run for the hills. Fitting in? Pleasing others? Jan said "fuck that" a long time ago. But here's the kicker - beneath the walking artwork, Jan's actually a solid dude. So next time you're ready to judge a book by its cover, shut your mouth and open your ears. These "outsiders" have unique perspectives that'll blow your mind. In a world of sheep, be a Jan. Be a Bad Portier. Because normal is just another word for boring, and we don't do boring. Welcome to the revolution. It's inked, it's loud, and it's unapologetically us.