"I don’t think you ever feel famous. If I ever do, I need to be slapped" Girl in Red on Grammy buzz, dealing with fame and becoming a hero to her generation

“If I’m fully honest, I probably wouldn’t want to do this photoshoot, and I probably wouldn’t want to do this interview. I just want to make music,” says Marie Ulven, better known as Girl in Red. The budding pop star is poised to take over the world, yet she despises celebrity culture and everything that comes with it, including this editorial. Still, with 2.2 million Instagram followers and growing Grammy hype, Ulven is undeniably in the public eye – whether she accepts it or not.

Originally from Horten, a town an hour outside of Oslo with a population of 25,000, Ulven’s upbringing sounds pleasant – charmed, even. “If it was two years ago, I would say that I hated it, it’s not stimulating, or whatever,” she admits. “Now, I’m so happy I had a safe and good childhood, even though I’ve had my fair share of trauma, probably.” Growing up, Ulven spent her time playing Minecraft, skateboarding, and finger-boarding (miniature skateboarding with, well, your fingers).

These hobbies quickly became secondary to an obsession with music, sparked by receiving her first guitar at 13 – a Christmas present from her grandfather. Socially, however, she describes her life in Horten as a bit awkward. “I just hung out with a bunch of boys because I found girls intimidating. I didn’t want to be alone with girls. So, yeah, I was just one of the guys up until I couldn’t be one of the guys any more, and I couldn’t be one of the girls either. It was kind of weird, you don’t really know where you fit in,” she says.

Today, the 22-year-old lives in an apartment in Oslo, where she also rents a music studio. The day I met her, her song We Fell in Love in October had just gone platinum. These days, her music is celebrated worldwide, the lyrics praised for discussing her sexuality (Ulven is openly gay) and mental health struggles with a no-nonsense forthrightness. Girl in Red first became popular on TikTok in 2018 via the viral song I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend, which, as we write, has been streamed 222 million times on Spotify. During the pandemic, the tune exploded on the Gen-Z-centric app, where the question “Do you listen to Girl in Red?” became code for asking someone if they identify as gay.

Now, with festival slots next to Phoebe Bridgers, Doja Cat and Billie Eilish, fame in the digital world has crossed over into the physical one. Ulven has emerged from the global crisis as a fully-formed superstar. She released her debut album If I Could Make It Go Quiet in the midst of the pandemic. Her record came steeped in the same sincerity found in Bob Dylan’s harmonica in the 1960s. Rarely does one encounter an artist so open to grappling with her own contradictions.

“There are so many paradoxes in this world, even with me. I hate celebrity culture but I want to be the biggest star in the world. But young people these days, they see everything in black and white, they don’t see duality,” she says. “You can truly believe something yet want something different.” She refers to ‘young people’ like she isn’t a part of the demographic, yet in many ways she is a poster child for her generation.

In addition to TikTok, Ulven’s more traditional breakthrough moment came courtesy of her song Serotonin, co-produced by Billie Eilish’s brother and collaborator, Finneas. The first verse reads: “Intrusive thoughts like cutting my hands off, like jumping in front of a bus, like how do I make this stop, when it feels like my therapist hates me, please don't let me go crazy.” While she is a champion in the crusade for mental health awareness, particularly among young people, she did not arrive at the position intentionally.

Ulven reveals that it’s taken her five years to understand her own brain chemistry. Then came the aha-moment – “This is what’s been going on” – when she finally understood she was grappling with anxiety disorder. “I’ve never intended to be a person who talks about their mental health, other than the fact that I don’t give a shit. So why not just talk about it? I mean, I do give a shit, but I don’t think of the taboo side of it. It’s cool to give a shit, it’s cool to care, and show emotions and be engaged in important topics,” she says. “I’m curating what I choose to say, it’s not like you have to put yourself out there in a way you don’t want to, because you control it, which is kind of funny to say that I’m in control of what I’m saying.

“I have GAD (Generalised Anxiety Disorder), so I’m worried about everything and I’m scared of everything. I’m not calm, ever. It’s a full-time job, and it doesn’t pay the bills... Well, maybe for men it does,” she says, laughing. The beauty of Ulven’s art stems from her appreciation for simplicity. She does not try to hide behind any fussy words or difficult theoretical concepts. Her lyrics are not ambiguous. There is no doubt that she sings about depression, self-harm, sexuality, and the struggle of finding your sense of self.

Ulven puts herself out there, into the storming ocean of fame and the turbulence of the internet with a buoy in the form of honesty. “I think the best answers are always the ones that everyone understands. I love music that is really easy to listen to. I love pop music because everyone understands it. It’s hook-y, it’s four-on-the-floor. You feel it instantly,” she says, beatboxing as her hands mime drumming.

“I feel the same way about talking, and my song writing. Everyone gets the song,” she says, glancing around the room before breaking into song: “Broken table, what’s inside, pieces of metal, I want to fly,” She laughs. This is where I get to see the real Ulven peek through her otherwise poised demeanour. She does not have a solemn energy, but during our discussion surrounding mental illness, she oozes a certain level of maturity. However, her tone shifts as we speak about her future.

Ulven has plans. Big plans. “I’m very much looking forward to setting up my studio, and my apartment. I just got a new girlfriend. I met her this summer, so I can’t wait to spend more time with her,” she blushes. She admits that her three-month tour next year is beginning to make her nervous, as she has to be away from her girl. This is a fleeting worry though. “I’m just excited to be alive. I’m so excited for my coffee tomorrow morning. I’m just so grateful to be here. If I were to be hit by a car tonight, I want all my friends to know that she was so happy to be alive,” she says, breaking into a chuckle at the morbid thought.

For someone who’s recognised for, and capitalised on, ̔sad girl energy̓, it is surprising to find her filled with joy. “I just really want to be happy, and that to spiral and flow into everything I do,” she says. Ulven tells me she’s been recognised four times at the airport – alone in Austin – while travelling from Oslo to Los Angeles, a fact that she doesn’t understand or enjoy. “I’ve always been the person perceiving celebrity culture, on the other side you know, and I’m still on the other side to me, but a lot of people think of me like a celebrity. But what even is a celebrity? It’s just a bunch of people perceiving you.

"I don’t think you ever feel famous. If I ever do, I need to be slapped,” she says. “I did this big photoshoot for this piece, and people were telling me that I look so good, and I don’t understand how you’re all about this shit.” She looks at me blankly, daring me to react. “I don’t think about me having a platform because all of that is bullshit. I would never consider myself a celebrity or a person in the public eye because it’s all f***ing bullshit,” she says.

Even though Ulven is daringly open about her scepticism towards editorials like this one, she remains keen to fuel the fire of conversation with thoughtful, considerate remarks. She asks frequently for my take on her record and attempts to make our time together feel more like a coffee with a friend. Perhaps it’s easier for her to swallow than the truth – that she’s spending an afternoon selling out her message to a fashion magazine.

Being thrown into internet fame at the tender age of 19, particularly given her apparent disdain for celebrity, must feel like a curse. Of course she would make every attempt to feel as normal as possible. “I want to have a good head on my shoulders. I don’t want to lose my shit. I’m trying to stay grounded,” she says. “The older I’ve gotten and having grown into this project, and knowing who I am, I have such a strong sense of self, and I know so much more about myself. I just love living right now, it’s so exciting because I didn’t feel like this a year ago.” The conversation ends abruptly as Girl in Red is whisked away by her team. Even though she’s still new to the superstar scene, the people around her treat her as the future saviour of pop music. A treatment that feels entirely justified.