Embarking on a public appearance for Jennie is akin to an act of courage. This globally recognized pop sensation, fashion trendsetter, and notably, a member of the chart-topping K-pop ensemble Blackpink, is perpetually besieged by paparazzi at Fashion Week and adored by enthusiasts at concerts to the extent that even the most ordinary facets of her life can set off global media frenzies. Having dedicated the majority of her adult life to her nation and her fanbase, she has honed the art of being in the public eye; when she is aware of it, she sits more erect, smiles more radiantly, and exerts a bit more effort. She cannot pinpoint the exact moment this transformation began, but it is a facet of her personality she has learned to activate, particularly when she is on stage: "Individuals who encounter me would assert that I am vastly different from the persona I portray during performances," she remarks. "I would never claim that I am being insincere there. It is an aspect of myself, an internal switch that I can effortlessly activate."

On a summer evening in Hollywood, following two consecutive weeks in the recording studio, working diligently on her upcoming solo album debut, we meet. She has been meticulously examining lyrics to ensure their narrative coherence and has been tirelessly refining her vocal tracks from dawn till dusk. It is past the dinner hour, and she is relaxing in a cropped black T-shirt and sweatpants in an unoccupied office adjacent to the photography studio where she has just concluded a shoot. A petite nylon Jacquemus bag, adorned with a plush teddy-bear charm, rests on her chair beside her. Despite a full day on set, she shows no signs of fatigue; instead, she exudes warmth and friendliness. Her laughter is uninhibited, with her head thrown back and hands clasped together in a gesture reminiscent of a child encountering a puppy for the first time. It's no surprise that there are TikTok compilations dedicated solely to her wide-eyed expressions, including her distinctive pout. Jennie contemplates venturing out before her flight back to Seoul the following day. "Due to constant fatigue or work, I seldom see my friends, so when I have some free time, embracing my 28-year-old self is the most precious gift," she shares. (Earlier, images of her night out with influencers Simi and Haze Khadra and Blackpink's Rosé went viral across fan pages and Korean media.) She opts for a quiet evening, perhaps ordering food for delivery, pouring a glass of wine, and tuning into some television. "At the moment, I'm captivated by Game of Thrones. Once I return home around 11:00 p.m., I'll freshen up, get into bed, and watch a couple of episodes. It's the ultimate relaxation for me."

Understanding Jennie is impossible without grasping the essence of K-pop, a $10-billion-a-year juggernaut that is integral to South Korea's national identity. The government has been funding the industry's development and global outreach for decades. K-pop "idols," as stars like Jennie are known, first gained prominence in the 1990s with the hallyu (or "Korean wave"), a movement reflecting the government's efforts to promote Korean culture internationally. (Recall the initial exposure to "Gangnam Style" and BTS in the American pop sphere in the 2010s? That was hallyu 2.0.) Today, the idol industry is so profitable that American labels are analyzing its artist and repertoire strategies. The idol economy is so vast that when BTS took a hiatus last year, it was anticipated to impact South Korea's GDP; the fanbase is so fervent that merchandise options range from life-size standees to sketches of the idols' handprints, allowing fans to virtually touch palms with their preferred singer.

The journey to becoming an idol commences with auditioning for a place in a label's training program, a process that echoes elements of Disney's '90s child-star system, Lou Pearlman's boy-band training camps, and competitive cheerleading and color guard squads. Once accepted, trainees balance language lessons, study etiquette and conduct, and adhere to stringent standards regarding diet, exercise, aesthetics, and fashion, often for years, with the goal of joining a new group's lineup. Idols, in turn, serve as cultural ambassadors for Korean lifestyle and conduct; their positive portrayal of the nation is as critical as the fanbase or the music itself. Personal affairs are kept confidential and private, as fiercely guarded as the crown jewels. Romantic relationships and smoking are prohibited—partly due to distractions and partly to prevent impeding a fan's ability to identify with the idols.

"Anyone who MEETS me will say I’m so FAR from what I REPRESENT as me ONSTAGE...It’s a PART of ME, a SWITCH inside of me that I can just CLICK." A few days following our encounter, Blackpink releases a concert documentary and announces a 2025 world tour to coincide with the group's eighth anniversary with YG Entertainment, the influential label also behind Psy and the groundbreaking girl group 2NE1. Under YG, Blackpink has released two albums and several EPs and singles, been the focus of at least three documentaries, and had its members' lives documented for a reality TV show. They achieved record-breaking sales, chart positions, and video streams, culminating in what Jennie considers the pinnacle of her career: being the first K-pop group to headline Coachella in 2023.

Blackpink's fame is such that privacy is a luxury, and the slightest impromptu action from any member could escalate into an incident. A recent video of Jennie vaping indoors in Italy led to an immediate formal apology from her representatives. "What can I do? If Koreans believe it's wrong, I must make amends," says Jennie. She makes a point of empathizing with her fans' concerns. "It's like, I understand why you're upset. It's cultural, it's history. It's timing. And I can't defy timing."

This is the delicate balance Jennie is currently navigating: managing the weight and expectations of her fame while sincerely pursuing self-discovery. She mentions enduring mental and physical health challenges after years of touring and events with minimal privacy. ("I was just like, I can't handle this anymore.") At the same time, she is visibly touched when discussing Blackpink's members and all they've taught her, and she exhibits a profound appreciation and tenderness for the fans, the Blinks, who have supported them over the years. While her solo album is a means of "introducing myself to the world for the first time," she's already contemplating the reception to that vulnerability. "I don't want to lose their trust," she says. "It is crucial for me to have my culture, and everyone around the globe, embrace me."

She turns introspective, as if motivating herself. "You should be true to yourself. It might not appear as dazzling as the person you were before," she says. The thought evolves into an affirmation: "Blackpink Jennie will always be a part of me, but you will also get to witness this new facet." "BLACKPINK Jennie will ALWAYS be a PART of ME, but you will ALSO get to EXPERIENCE this NEW SIDE."

Jennie's formative years were spent in the affluent Cheongdam-dong district of Seoul, until a picturesque holiday in New Zealand with her mother altered everything. Her mother asked the then 10-year-old if she'd like to attend school in Auckland; captivated by the country's beauty and "serene" energy, she agreed and spent the next four years living in a homestay and studying on a vast green campus near the sea. In the documentary Blackpink: Light Up the Sky, Jennie reflects on how her education fostered a desirable form of independence, with classes that included camping, music, and art: "Even at 10, you still had to make your own decisions."

Footage from this period showcases her as a carefree girl playing games, running along the beach, and relying on her friends' assistance in learning English. Her personal Instagram account, @jennierubyjane, is a product of that era: At 11, she created "Ruby-Jane" as a way to expand her birth name, Jennie Kim, to include a middle name, akin to her classmates. (To this day, some close friends refer to her more familiarly as Ruby-Jane.)

When she was 14, Jennie informed her mother of her aspiration to become a singer; shortly thereafter, she auditioned for YG with Rihanna's "Take a Bow" and was admitted into its training camp in Seoul. (Early recordings from her training, including a stripped-down rendition of Wale's "Lotus Flower Bomb" and the Weeknd's "The Hills," are still viewable on YouTube.) After six years of training—when the final quartet of Jennie, Lisa, Jisoo, and Rosé finally coalesced as Blackpink—Jennie was poised to be a cornerstone of the group.

Entering the realm of Blackpink is akin to embarking on a pink-infused psychedelic journey. The aesthetics are extravagant, akin to a techno-futurist's vision of a Lisa Frank coloring book brought to life; videos are surreal and filmed with the same pulsating rhythm as the music's nostalgia-tinged bass. The group was named to reflect the duality of a woman's sweetness and darkness; in practice, it serves as a PG counterpoint to a Bad Girls Club. Listen to Blackpink's most popular tracks, and you'll discover that their venom is pink, their love requires shutdown, and their most infectious hook ("Look at you, now look at me! Uh!") exhibits a kind of provocation they are far too tactful to wield in person.

All members of the group have distinct roles: Jisoo is mature and restrained, Rosé is gentle and soulful, Lisa is playful and exuberant, and Jennie is the coy assassin, a smoldering wildcard with a delivery that could be lethal. If they were to don Spice Girls costumes, Jennie would be Posh Spice in public and Mel B in performance. (The group's hitmaking producer Teddy Park once dubbed her the "perfectionist.") Their universe is also magnetic to Western superstars; in recent years, they've released collaborations with Lady Gaga, Selena Gomez, Cardi B, and Dua Lipa, among others. Harry Styles's mere presence at a Blackpink concert—and his subsequent follow of Jennie on Instagram—ignited fan speculation about potential chemistry between the two. When Taylor Swift encountered them at the VMAs in 2022, a video of her singing along to the "Pink Venom" line "Look what you made us do" went viral.

"I spent six years as a TRAINEE. …I was SO FOCUSED on becoming a PERFORMER, I didn’t really understand the MEANING of becoming an ARTIST." In 2018, Jennie took the initial step toward a solo career. With the release of "Solo," she became the first Korean female solo artist to top the global iTunes songs chart; the video became the first by a Korean woman soloist to surpass one billion views on YouTube. For her second single, "You & Me," she collaborated with Sailor Moon creator Naoko Takeuchi on cover art and aesthetics. This year, Jennie contributed to "Slow Motion," a standalone track from Matt Champion's (formerly of Brockhampton) solo album. The tender ballad reveals Jennie at her most delicate, possibly indicating her future musical direction. Champion remarks that working with Jennie was seamless, even as she was exploring new territory: "I wasn’t sure how much she had utilized her voice in that manner, but she sounded incredible."

Deb Never, a friend and fellow musician, echoes Champion, highlighting Jennie's versatility as the key to her success. She tells me that Jennie's most impressive attribute is her ability to embody two contrasting versions of herself simultaneously. After their first encounter, it took Deb two weeks to realize that her new friend Jennie was the Jennie from Blackpink. "She's shy, genuinely humble, and very sweet," she says. "And then when it comes to music and her performances, it's this other side, this opposite persona where it's in your face and very assertive. It's not like she's pretending. It's about unleashing an entirely different aspect of yourself that you don't get to express in everyday life. There's a vulnerability in that."

Watch enough of Jennie's videos, and you'll notice her adorned in Chanel's double Cs and signature tweeds. Some fashion bloggers have even started referring to her as the "Human Chanel." She began collaborating with the brand while Karl Lagerfeld was still alive. "Just the fact that I got to converse with him, to have him see me wearing his creations—all of that was enough," she says with reverence, describing the time they met. "I am still very honored." Jennie credits her mother for nurturing her self-described "classic" sense of style. "She was my Carrie from Sex and the City," she says with admiration, describing her mother's flawless ability to change outfits and roles daily. Jennie raids her closet—the source of many of the '80s and '90s vintage tees she wears to this day—and calls on her during fashion emergencies: "When I'm at the airport ... I call my mom. 'Mom, I need a knee-length black coat. If it's Burberry, I'll like it, but if not, that's fine.' She'll bring me a perfect [outfit] from when she wore it like 30 years ago."

Now a staple in the fashion industry, Jennie is a regular at Paris Fashion Week and has been featured in campaigns for Chanel, Adidas, and Calvin Klein. (She was displayed across the latter's iconic billboard overlooking New York's SoHo.) In June, she walked in the Jacquemus La Casa cruise show in Capri for designer Simon Porte Jacquemus, who is a friend. When asked if she'd do it again, she contemplates the possibility. "I understand the hard work that goes into it, so I would never do it for amusement. Once was definitely sufficient," she says, laughing. Another milestone was when Jennie took on the role of Dyanne in Sam Levinson's over-the-top HBO drama The Idol. The series delves into the murky underbelly and depressing power dynamics of desperate music executives and an abusive, megalomaniacal producer who dominates a group of aspiring musicians. Her character, a dancer, singer, and confidante to Lily-Rose Depp's Jocelyn, is as committed to achieving stardom as the rest of the ensemble. "I related to Dyanne a lot. Like, a lot," she tells me. "Aspiring to become a mega pop star is something I could easily just tune into." We discuss her friendship with Depp and how the show's subversive concept appealed to her: "Having the idea of this nefarious person coming in and attempting to manipulate, I've been in that world my entire life."

"There’s all these different LEVELS, VOLUMES of ENERGY that I have, but I only learned how to TURN it up to the MAX." Jennie and I have been conversing for a while, and she's tucked one leg under her, snuggling up to the arm of her chair. We return to the topic of managing her ever-present public persona and introverted personal self. "It's always been a question mark for me too. What's wrong with me?!" she says, gently smiling. Being in the studio, engaging with every aspect of the new album, from production to design, has helped her process what inspires and motivates her now. "I spent six years as a trainee, and throughout that process, I was so focused on becoming a performer, I didn't really understand the meaning of becoming an artist." Performing, she says, was so deeply ingrained that it was all systems go, at full speed, every time. Now she's learning to listen to herself: "If I'm doing intense choreography, I know that I'm not capable of doing that while I'm blasting sync, performing live, looking flawless. There are all these different levels, volumes of energy that I have, but I only learned how to turn it up to the max."

"You're modulating," I suggest. She nods. "For the first time, I'm learning, 'Oh, this should go down a little.' It's almost like I'm doing it in reverse." The process of creating the album has been therapeutic, a way for Jennie to work through it all. She possesses an insatiable work ethic, but she tells me she is ensuring self-care by scheduling wellness, or as she terms it, "self-love." "I adore sound baths. I'm always in the sauna, in an ice plunge, getting a massage. I love taking care of my body," she says with the excitement of someone who has more than earned it.

Throughout our conversation, Jennie is reluctant to disclose too much about the project's development, but she's proud that it will be crafted on her terms and released on OA, the label she established in 2023. She's dedicated to recording primarily in English and hints that it will encompass a variety of genres. While she won't reveal if her long-time friend Teddy Park will be involved, she still seeks his counsel. "If there is anyone in the world that I ask for any music advice, it would be Teddy." She aspires to inspire other young women, with one key message of the album being "to comprehend and advocate for who you are." This reminds me of our discussion about the pressures of straddling two worlds, reconciling Jennie's deep allegiance and affection for her Korean heritage with her ambition to be more open about her true self. She sighed, seemingly burdened by responsibility, and was the most openly emotional I had witnessed her. "I trust that I have learned. I have earned the trust from people to somewhat break those boundaries and just open that small gap for our culture."