Addison Rae Easterling has always danced her future into being. Long before 88 million followers watched her master TikTok choreography, she was a Louisiana cheerleader pirouetting through regional dance competitions and dreaming of bigger stages. Now 24, the creator‑turned‑actor has fixed her sights on music stardom, trading viral clips for synth‑pop singles, Madison Square Garden cameos and an impending debut album on Columbia.
On a quiet Sunday in Beverly Hills—the Spanish‑style villa that doubles as her manager’s office and self‑described “second home”—Rae pads to the door barefoot, satin halter dress swishing, Hello Kitty pimple patches dotting her cheek. She offers two Blue Bottle coffees (cold brew and cherry‑blossom matcha, just in case) and settles by the fireplace, recounting a whirlwind week in Iceland filming the candy‑colored video for “Headphones On.” The clip tracks a convenience‑store clerk who morphs into a pink‑haired Lady Godiva galloping across black‑sand beaches, a visual metaphor for Rae’s own transformation from cheer squad to global pop hopeful.
During the week she will fly to Chicago to shoot Animal Friends opposite Aubrey Plaza and Dan Levy—“a 180 from everything I’ve done,” she says. But music has her heart. Club‑kid doyenne Charli XCX tapped Rae for a “Von Dutch” remix at MSG; Petra Collins lenses her visuals; Law Roach finesses the looks. Behind the scenes, Swedish hitmakers Luka Kloser and Elvira Anderfjärd (of Max Martin’s MXM camp) channel studio girl‑talk into sleek dance‑pop—last year’s “Diet Pepsi” even cracked the Hot 100. Venezuelan avant‑pop architect Arca praises Rae’s “fluency in the language of connecting through pop” and her willingness to embrace both the luminous and the transgressive.
Rae’s path hasn’t been friction‑free. Early single “Obsessed” drew withering reviews, leaked demos surfaced without warning and internet critics questioned her authenticity. She understands the skepticism—“What am I going to do? Not chase my dreams because I ‘haven’t done enough school’?”—but refuses to apologize for seizing opportunity. Born in Lafayette to Sheri Nicole Easterling and Monty Lopez, she grew up shifting between Louisiana towns and private Christian schools while her parents’ relationship see‑sawed. Dance classes were an expensive gamble the family took on her talent. At LSU she switched from broadcast journalism to dentistry to appease practical worries, but a fledgling TikTok account and gut conviction pushed her west.
In Los Angeles she bunked with a friend’s family, signed to WME, cranked out sponsored posts to pay rent and persuaded her parents to relocate for support. “I wasn’t going to let being cringe stop me,” she laughs now. Those clips, posted “a million times a day,” built a platform big enough to finance new ambitions—and big enough to magnify every misstep. She’s learned to draw boundaries (she no longer checks her parents’ social feeds) and to wield controversy as creative fuel: when rumors of drug use spread, she blew powdered sugar off a beignet in the “High Fashion” video, rolling in sweetness instead.
That single, inspired by a cheeky Pinterest meme—“F*** cocaine, let’s get high on fashion!”—celebrates the childhood dreams she won’t abandon. “I always knew I wanted to be famous,” she says, shrugging off those who still see only the TikTok cheerleader.
“All of that led me to where I am. Saying no opens a door for a much better yes”
Today Rae’s 11‑track debut is nearly complete, a neon blend of Euro‑club bass lines, tongue‑in‑cheek lyrics and earnest diary confessions. “I feel like I’ve surpassed Addison Rae,” she grins. “It’s just Addison now.” The Louisiana girl who once worried about tuition is gone; the performer who greets strangers on Melrose and meditates over mood boards with creative consultant Lexee Smith is here, spinning attention into gold. Pop stardom may be an uphill climb, but Addison is dancing—glitter‑flecked toes inches from the fire—toward the summit.
