Threes

There is something quietly magnetic about three people dressed the same. It catches the eye before you have time to explain it to yourself. The repetition feels deliberate, almost ritualistic, even when it is entirely accidental.

When I encounter groups of three dressed alike, in cities and towns around the world, I ask if I can photograph them. What draws me is not just the visual symmetry, but the tension it creates. Three is the smallest number that forms a group rather than a pair; it suggests balance, but also difference. Within sameness, individuality begins to surface.

Dressing alike can signal belonging, solidarity, celebration, or work. It can be practical, playful, or deeply symbolic. In these photographs, uniformity becomes a starting point rather than a conclusion. As viewers, we begin by seeing the clothes, but we stay for the subtle variations: a gesture, a stance, a glance, the way each person occupies the shared frame.

These images sit somewhere between the collective and the personal. The matching outfits bind the subjects together, while their bodies, expressions, and relationships gently push back against that unity. The photograph becomes a record of both connection and distinction, reminding us that identity is often negotiated in relation to others.

The power of three lies in this balance. It amplifies pattern without erasing difference, order without rigidity. In photographing trios dressed the same, I am interested in how people come together, how they choose to align, and how individuality persists even within the most visible forms of sameness.