When she’s not dazzling crowds as a colorful alien who crash-landed on Earth, or busy “turning people gay,” Caroline Kingsbury is most likely rocking her signature oversized baby pink glasses. “If I’m not wearing them, I feel naked,” Kingsbury laughs, owning her quirky style. It’s an early afternoon in Los Angeles when the dream pop diva with a nostalgic heart answers GO’s call, the sun shining on her bleached, braided hair. A glimpse of her bedroom feels like stepping into a 1980s dream. The walls behind her are a retro blue, the kind of shade that makes you want to put on “Blue Monday” by New Order and let it play on repeat. It wouldn’t be a Kingsbury space without a mannequin standing guard, draped in neon green. It’s part fashion relic, part silent roommate, adding a funky Kingsbury twist to the scene. This isn’t just a bedroom, it’s a living moodboard, a self-built shrine to indie-pop, heartbreak glamour, and fearless self-expression. And that’s exactly who Caroline Kingsbury is.
— Kayley Cassidy for GoMag
