Mira Aaltonen
Helsinki
Send something small.
Finnish jazz, dark chocolate, slow mornings.
A quieter way to celebrate the people you'd actually call.
Klein keeps a private feed of the moments that matter — birthdays, weddings, a new job, a fresh start — helps you write something honest, and lets you send a real gift from real shops before the day arrives. No public posts. No reminders that beg.
4,128 circles on the early list
Built in Berlin. Designed for circles of up to fifty.
This week
Mira Aaltonen
Helsinki
Finnish jazz, dark chocolate, slow mornings.
Next week
Idris Okoro
Lagos
Soledad Ferrer
Mexico City
Tomás Kovač
Ljubljana
Three small promises
No public profile, no follower count, no recommended people. Your circle is the circle you typed in. Nothing else gets in.
Klein only opens when someone you love is having a birthday this week. The rest of the time, the app closes itself and leaves you alone.
Send a coffee from their local roastery. A book from their favorite bookshop. A flower delivery from a florist on their street. We don't sell anything. We just open the door.
Who Klein is for
Whether it's just you and one friend, a whole circle chipping in, or a company that actually remembers its people.
Add a name and a note, create a shareable link, and let them fill in their own details — address, the date, what they'd love. You stay the one who remembers.
Several friends pool toward one gift for someone in the group. Everyone chips in, one gift arrives, nobody has to chase a spreadsheet.
Companies celebrate their people — birthdays, work anniversaries, promotions, farewells — with a real gift to a real address, on the right day, without HR busywork.
The birthday feed
Open Klein and the first thing you see is whose birthday is closest, what they're into this year, and what they hinted they'd love. Tap once to write. Tap twice to send a klein. Close the app.
Mira Aaltonen
Helsinki
Finnish jazz, dark chocolate, slow mornings.
Idris Okoro
Lagos
On their wishlist
Vinyl, kente prints, a good pen.
Soledad Ferrer
Mexico City · in 3 days
Tomás Kovač
Ljubljana · in 6 days
Wren Aldaco
Lisbon · in 9 days
Hye-jin Bae
Eitan Marchetti
Nour El-Sayed
To Soledad
Mexico City · 3 days away
Klein is thinking…
The compose moment
Klein has been quietly listening — to what you and your circles share, the cities, the inside jokes, the records, the years. Three days before each birthday it drafts something honest in your voice. You change one word, or one line, or you let it stand. Then you press send like you mean it.
Klein matches the way you actually speak to this person — warmer with old circles, drier with siblings, softer with parents. It reads your previous notes once a year and never stores them on a server.
Every birthday card you've ever sent through Klein is stitched into a quiet timeline only the two of you can see. No public wall. No hearts. Just a thread of years.
Drafts are generated on-device. Klein servers see the moment you press send, nothing before that. Press never, and we never see anything.
Klein is a calm assistant, not a content engine. It will not nudge you twice.
How a Klein week feels
Once a week, Klein sends one notification. 'Three birthdays this week. Mira on Wednesday, Idris on Friday, Wren on Saturday.' That's it. No badges.
Klein has already drafted something honest for each person, using what you've told it about them over the years. You edit one line. You hit send when you're ready.
Pick a shop near them. Coffee, flowers, a book, a meal. Two taps. They get a calm, beautiful card on the morning of, with the klein on its way.
When they reply, you see it once. Not eighty times. Klein is not trying to keep you in the app. It just wants the moment to land.
Sourced from places, not warehouses
We've quietly partnered with independent roasters, florists, bookshops, and kitchens across thirty-eight cities. When you pick a klein, the order goes to a real person on their street, not a fulfillment center two countries away.
Twelve months, one glance
Klein draws a calm map of everyone's birthday across the year. Hover a month, see who you'll want to think about, plan a card or a trip ahead of time.
What early circles are saying
“I forgot my own brother's birthday for nine years in a row. Klein has not let me forget it once.”
Auður HreinsdóttirArchitect, Reykjavík
“My circles started sending me actual coffee from my actual roaster. I cried twice. I do not cry.”
Demetrius HollanderSound designer, Brooklyn
“It does one thing and it does it like a good restaurant. You leave full and you leave alone.”
Kasimira PłonkaCookbook author, Kraków
Pricing without psychology tricks
No annual discount theatre. No "most popular" badge that's only there to push you up a tier. Pick what's true for the number of birthdays you actually want to remember.
For your first fifteen people — the ones you'd already call without an app reminding you.
For the wider circle — the circles-of-circles, the team, the choir, the climbing crew.
A shared vault for everyone you'd put on a family tree, including the ones you chose.
All tiers include private feed by default. No ads, no tracking, no third-party SDKs. Cancel from inside the app in two taps.
A few honest answers
The first circle of up to fifteen people is free, forever. Larger circles, shared family vaults, and klein concierge sit behind a small monthly fee that pays a real person, not a server farm.
No. We don't import your contacts at all. You type in the people you want, one at a time, the way you'd add them to a dinner party.
Six people in a small studio in Berlin, with a love letter to the way birthdays felt before everything had a feed.
Klein means 'small' in German. The whole point is to stay small.
When you're ready
Klein opens in May. Early circles get the first klein on us, a handwritten welcome card from the studio, and the right to never see a recommended-for-you screen again.
A note from the studio
Six of us, scattered across Berlin, Lagos, Helsinki and Mexico City. Long voice notes at 2am, group threads that scroll for years, every birthday hidden under three thousand other notifications. We kept forgetting. We kept apologising. Eventually we stopped apologising and started building.
Klein is the thing we wished we had. One quiet feed of the people we actually love. A draft of something honest, ready three days early. A real klein, sent from a real shop on a real street near them. And then the app closes, because the moment is theirs, not ours.
We are not building a platform. We are building a small thing for small circles. If it stays useful for the eighteen people in your phone you'd take a 3am call from, we have done our job and we will keep it small on purpose.
Berlin · Mitte · 2026