Olivia Rodrigo is vibrating with excitement. We're cozy in A-1 Record Shop in the East Village, listening to funk over the speakers and torrential rain on the pavement outside. She's about to get the keys to a new apartment in Greenwich Village, and she's entering her New York era: Her best friend Madison goes to Columbia, she wants to know where the good karaoke spots are, and she feels like the energy of any well-spent 20s a little chaos, a lot of fun is all around her here. "I've got to live my Sex and the City fantasy," she says. (For the record, she identifies as a Carrie and Charlotte mix.)
Rodrigo, who came beaming into the record store like the absent sun, has her long dark hair in neat braids down her back. She's wearing winged eyeliner and little other makeup, a lavender sweater, a long purple-and white-checked skirt, and black loafers.
Her face is as open as a fresh notebook; she wields her hot-girl powers gently. She clarifies that she's not giving up California: For one thing, there's no place better to listen to music than in your car. But, though she always used to roll her eyes when people would say they were more inspired in New York-"I would be like, 'Whatever!"-she's spent a lot of the last year writing here, and she's starting to feel like it might be true.
She's also been learning to be alone, for the first time in her life, and she's found that it's particularly wonderful, in the city, to be alone among a lot of people. Plus, I say, when New Yorkers see someone famous"They don't give a shit," she says, smiling.
This story is from the August 2023 edition of Vogue US.
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This story is from the August 2023 edition of Vogue US.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
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