What does the Playboy have in Common with Easter? Of course, the bunny! While one represents rebirth, the other represents sexuality. In Alice in Wonderland, the rabbit stands for curiosity, and the Chinese Zodiac sign Rabbit represents cleverness and agility.

No matter what you see in a bunny, I wish you a happy Easter. I kept up my tradition of doing an Easter shooting. Thanks to my dear photographer Paco, this year tops everything.

Yes, even the one I did during COVID on my own, where I was drinking and spilling oat milk in my bathtub and the other runner-up when I asked in a shopping centre if I could borrow their gigantic display bunny.

So, instead of chocolate eggs, you get a bunny shooting from me every year. Enjoy the holidays, and I hope you like the sweets I have for you.

Pictures: Paco Grafie
Dress: Jacqueline Loekito
Shoes: Sophia Webster, Necklace: Tatty Devine
Mask: Maskaras

I grew up in a village so small that there were not even street names. On every hill under the mountains was a single house; people used binoculars to see their neighbours, which tells a lot about the distance and human curiosity. I can’t say for sure, but sometimes I felt there were more foxes and cows than people living in this remote place.

If you are bad at remembering surnames, this would have been your dream place: There were only a handful of surnames in the village. The families had nicknames according to their house names or occupations to distinguish between people.

Because my grandfather had a chicken farm, my family was called the “Egg Streules.” People described him as an intelligent man with a head full of ideas who always worked on a dozen projects the village people did not understand. He even invented things and had a weird device that showed moving pictures (yes, that was the first television this village ever saw). Maybe the head of this man was buzzing with energy so much that he had a series of strokes when he was not at a high age. With my grandpa’s mind, the chicken left, too. I was still a kid; the chicken farm was empty of winged birds, and I only knew this man in a state where he had lost his voice and sparkle due to his illness.

But every sad story has some light, so dry your tears: The deserted chicken farm was available as a playground for a little blond Sara whenever she was brave enough to enter. And she was, even if there were giant spiders in front of the old wooden door with a massive key-like form of a storybook. The girl (me) discovered that the former chicken farm still held a few old-fashioned wooden cages and battery farming equipment mixed with mysterious porcelain from a closed hotel. Of course, this was a fascinating place for me as a kid, and everything I found there seemed like a mysterious treasure. The place whispered about its past for those willing to listen. I sometimes felt I could almost touch what was gone, but it turned into dust as soon as I tried.

Despite my love for the chicken farm, I never liked eggs. So, it felt weird being called “Egg Streule” at school, and I did not like it. I was glad when I came out of the village and to a school where people didn’t know about nicknames. They gave me other weird names, but that is a different and very long story. That story also led to me embracing my roots and digging deeper into my family’s history. I became more myself when I accepted that I was a weird mix of a farm girl and a science fiction girl at once. And at one point, I knew: The way led me back to a chicken farm. But this time, I would not be ashamed but make it fashionable. Finally, it came true. Do you like it, Grandpa?

Pictures: Christian Meier Photography
Clothing: All vintage
Special thanks to the chicken for playing along

Snow White wandered through the realm one wintry morning, her breath like mist in the crisp air. Among the frosted branches of an old tree, she discovered a crimson apple, its colour a stark contrast against the snow-laden landscape. The fruit beckoned to her, its glossy skin promising secrets untold.

With a mixture of curiosity and longing, Snow White took a bite, the juice sweet upon her tongue. In that moment, a transformation stirred within her, igniting a fire of liberation that blazed through her veins. No longer confined by the expectations of others, she embraced her desires and the depths of her being.

As the snowflakes danced around her, she encountered a group of travellers, their eyes alight with wonder at her radiance. They saw not just a maiden but a woman who exuded sensuality and confidence, unafraid to embrace her true self. Together, they journeyed more profoundly into the forest’s heart, where every shadow promised adventure.

Through their travels, Snow White discovered that true beauty lay not in perfection but in embracing the flaws and scars that made her unique. She was no longer the fragile princess waiting to be rescued; she was the heroine of her own story, fierce and unyielding in her pursuit of happiness. And as she twirled beneath the velvet sky, she knew she was finally free.

Pictures: Paco Grafie
Suit: United Colors of Benetton
Underwear: Empress MImi
Shoes: Koi

Memories of how I ventured into the amber-hued haven of autumn, wrapped in my shiny orange coat. Crisp leaves crunched beneath my boots, their warm tones a prelude to the spectacle of the season.

A delicate butterfly, its wings adorned with patterns mirroring the flowers that once bloomed, danced in the golden glow. Inspired, I retrieved my sketchbook and colored pencils, capturing the moment where the vibrant orange of my coat mingled with the fallen leaves.

The butterfly, drawn to the bright hues, added an ephemeral touch to my creation. Following a soft fragrance, I stumbled upon late-blooming flowers, their petals a mix of orange and pink. Resilient amid the fading foliage, they became the final strokes in my impromptu masterpiece.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows, I marvelled at the unexpected beauty and wondered about the wheels of time. Grateful I closed my sketchbook, a testament to the fleeting yet profound moments of autumn.

Pictures: Paco Grafie
Coat: Maya Seyferth
Shoes: United Colors of Benetton / Melissa
Dress and Earrings: Vintage bought in Paris/Amsterdam
Bag: Maude Studio
Sunglasses: Marc Jacobs Runway

In the dim-lit streets where shadows loom,
A raw palette of pink, a rebellious plume.
Flamingos in the alley, feathers dipped in ink,
Against the city’s grit, a rebellious sync.

Pink hair cascades like a neon waterfall,
In the underbelly where misfits brawl.
A kaleidoscope of defiance, a punked-up spree,
In the heartbeat of chaos, where anarchy’s free.

Lips painted in a shade of midnight sin,
Whispers in the dark, a dangerous spin.
In the underground scene where outlaws roam,
Pink’s not just a color; it’s a rebellion’s home.

Flamingos strut with a streetwise grace,
In the concrete jungle, a defiant embrace.
Pink’s not just a pigment; it’s a state of mind,
In the edgy labyrinth where rebels find.

Hair, lips, and flamingos in a nocturnal rave,
A manifesto of defiance, a vibrant crave.
No fairy tales here, just the city’s roar,
In the edgy reality, where pink’s the metaphor.

Photographer: Nordfriisk

Dress: Mara Danz
Hat: Fabienne Breederland
Necklace and Chandelier Earrings: Tukadu
Watch: Maurice de Mauriac
Umbrella and Shoes: Vintage
Brows: Brows&Brows

In the quiet countryside, where time unwinds,
White laundry dances in the breeze, so refined.
A patchwork of sheets, like clouds in the sky,
Hung on the line, where the gentle winds sigh.

Sun-kissed cotton sways from side to side, As whispers of a simpler life coincide. Pegs secure the fabric with a loving touch, Nature’s artistry, a tranquil clutch.

The clothesline becomes a canvas, pure and bright, In the open air, bathed in soft sunlight. Crisp shirts and dresses, a spectral array, Embracing the serenity of a laundry day.

Fields of green, a backdrop serene, Witness to a domestic scene. Purity in simplicity, a rustic affair, White laundry flutters, suspended in the air.

Pictures: Paco Grafie
Underwear: Edge o’Beyond
Shorts: Antica Sartoria Positano by Giacomo Cinque
Jacket: Pam Pinay
Shoes: New Yorker, Hat: Collin Paris

Deep in the heart of an ancient forest, there resided a nymph, her skin painted in soft, ever-shifting hues of watercolors. She wore a dress that flowed like the gentlest streams, its colors constantly changing.

Her beauty was an elusive dream, a tempting vision. Creatures from the forest, from wise owls to playful fairies, longed to see her. They believed she held magic in her touch, but she remained forever beyond reach.

Adventurers sought her, wandering the forest’s depths for weeks. One day, a young soul stumbled upon her radiant glade. The nymph’s eyes held a mixture of curiosity and sorrow. She spoke of the forest’s beauty, explaining that some dreams were not meant to be caught, but to inspire. She left a tear of understanding on the adventurer’s cheek and faded into the forest, her presence etched in their hearts. The adventurer became the forest’s guardian, protecting its dreams and mysteries, like the enchanting dream of the watercolor nymph, which lived on, forever elusive.

Pictures: Shobee El-Helymy
Clothing and Shoes: Maya Seyferth
Art: Angela Katsikantamis
Earrings and bangles: My collection
Rings: Swarovski

Once upon a time, there was a mysterious garden known to few. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, and nature and art coexisted in perfect harmony. The garden, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, was adorned with a myriad of mosaics that depicted scenes from forgotten tales.

One bright morning, a majestic peacock named Phineas, with iridescent feathers that gleamed like precious jewels, ventured into the garden. As he strutted through the mosaic pathways, he marveled at the intricate designs beneath his feet. The mosaics seemed to come to life with each step he took, as if they held secrets of their own.

Just as Phineas was lost in the mesmerizing beauty of the garden, a powerful rumble echoed through the air. From behind a tangle of ancient vines, a fearsome dragon emerged, its scales glistening with an ethereal light. This was no ordinary dragon, but one with a gentle disposition and a curiosity as great as Phineas.

The peacock and the dragon locked eyes, neither showing fear nor aggression. Instead, they exchanged a silent understanding of the garden’s enigmatic magic. Together, they ventured deeper into the garden, exploring its secrets and uncovering the stories hidden within the mosaics.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow upon the garden, the peacock and the dragon continued their exploration, knowing that this mysterious place held a bond that transcended time and species. In that tranquil garden, where mosaics told tales of forgotten legends, Phineas the peacock and the dragon found an enduring friendship that would forever remain a mystery to the world outside.

Pictures: Shobee El-Helymy
Styling/Model/Edit: Sara Streule
Location: Bruno Weber Park
Dress: Of Grapes and Waves
Headpiece: Pearls & Swine
Choker: Julian Zigerli, Shoes: Melissa

In a surreal garden, where colors defied logic, a girl transformed into a neon leopard with a burst of shimmering light. She emerged from the chaotic, glowing pink bushes that pulsed with a rhythm known only to the mad.

With a wild, primal energy, she began to dance. Her movements were a discordant symphony of chaos and vibrant hues, a performance that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The neon leopard leaped and twirled, her spots shifting and morphing, as if painted by a mad artist’s brush.

The garden itself seemed to respond to her dance, as if the very fabric of reality was unraveling. Flowers bent and twisted, trees contorted and reshaped, and the pink bushes pulsed with a maniacal heartbeat.

There was no audience, no observers, just the neon leopard and her absurd, spontaneous dance. It was a performance for the void, a celebration of the absurdity that lurked in the hidden corners of existence.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the dance ended. The neon leopard returned to her human form, and the garden, exhausted from its moment of chaos, settled back into an eerie calm.

In this garden, where the boundaries of reality and absurdity blurred, the neon leopard’s dance was just another enigmatic spectacle, a fleeting moment of wild, dadaist expression in a world that defied reason and definition.

Skirt, Top: Nixi Killick, Shirt: Zalando
Gloves: Anastasia Bull, Shoes: Thrifted
Jewellery: Tukadu, Bag: Nana Nana
Pictures: Greta Schoop, Edit: Sara Streule