As we wrap, she stands to take a call from her editor, but not before leaving one final thought.
She credits therapy and a small, fierce circle of friends (whom she calls “The Round Table”) for keeping her grounded. “We have a rule: no screens for the first hour when we hang out. Just cards, wine, and gossip that stays in the room.”
“There was a night in 2022 where I read 400 comments in a row. Three hundred and eighty were positive. Twenty were brutal. Guess which ones I remembered at 3 AM?” She pauses, sipping her matcha. “I had to learn that ‘not everyone’s cup of tea’ is a full sentence. You don’t need to justify the flavor of your existence.”
“People confuse volume with vulnerability,” she says, tucking her legs under her on the couch. “Yes, I know how to get attention. But attention without a landing pad is just noise. For every ‘controversial’ clip, there were three hours of behind-the-scenes work on a project nobody saw yet.”
For a figure who thrives on confidence, the interview turns surprisingly tender when discussing her relationship with online criticism.
We met her in a sun-drenched studio in Los Angeles, surrounded by mood boards and the low hum of a coffee machine. Despite the early call time, she’s electric, laughing easily as she scrolls past a meme of herself from 2019. “If you can’t laugh at your own archive,” she grins, “you’re taking this all way too seriously.”
She cites a specific pivot point two years ago when she turned down a lucrative reality TV offer to build her own production studio. “Everyone thought I was insane. They said, ‘You’re hot right now—strike while the iron burns.’ But iron burns out. I wanted to forge something.”
“I want to do for interviews what sneakers did for formal wear—make them comfortable, cool, and a little unexpected.” She hints at a “rogue talk show” format that drops on random Thursdays without promotion. “If you know, you know. I don’t need billboards. I need believers.”
