“I’ll never forget my first apartment in L.A.,” Slayyyter says over the phone. “Because I’m from Missouri and I’m like, stupid, I really wanted to move to Beverly Hills. So I moved into this little apartment right behind Robertson Boulevard. My whole life I was like, ‘Oh my God, that’s where Lindsay Lohan shops.’ But post 2020, it’s a ghost town. Nothing’s open on Robertson. All the buildings are for lease.”
For the 27-year-old pop renegade, Hollywood’s dark underbelly and chipped gold foil have become inspirations as much as its promises of fame and Veuve Clicquot-drenched glamour. Her sophomore album, STARFUCKER, explores that intersection between the reality of the stardom rat-race and the fantasy of it—the perks of real-world fame and, as Slayyyter says, “the humiliation of trying to be an artist,” the embarrassment of “trying” to be perceived as anything by anyone.
“Everybody wants to be famous—like everybody and their mother,” Slayyyter jokes. The album explores this longing—a deep-rooted and seemingly species-wide ache for validation, attention, and critical praise. The “I Love Hollywood!” singer pokes fun at herself, but also the rest of us. We’re all star-fuckers in our own way.
Perhaps most appealing about the songstress and club fixture is her ability to juggle exclusivity and inclusivity. Slayyyter lives in the Hollywood bubble while also poking at it and reporting on it—humorously—to the outside world. “I will randomly get invited into spaces or events, but I still feel like I’m not really a part of it,” she says. “I make music, I’m an artist, but the cameras all turn when the TikToker with some viral video comes in. That’s more of a big deal,” she says. “For me, I feel the same as the person that was making music in my closet. I’m friends with all really normal people, and I don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”
Slayyyter’s increasing popularity and growing fanbase are strapping her in for a bumpy but glitzy ride toward her own type of stardom. But even as she takes off, she remains ever down-to-earth. “I’m still a coach passenger on this flight,” she jokes.
Photography Yulia Shur
Fashion Hunter Clem
Makeup Alexandra French (Forward Artists)
Hair Ricky Fraser (The Only Agency)
Manicure Merrick Fisher (Opus Beauty) using DIOR Vernis
Photo assistant Julien Crane
Stylist assistant Nick Rossi
Production assistant Maia Saavedra