Her YouTube channel, "Poppy," is a hallucinatory digital wormhole with hundreds of videos, many of which have garnered millions of views. All of her videos are like this: unsettling, repetitive, sparse. Imagine anime mixed with a healthy heap of David Lynch, a dash of Ariana Grande, and one stick of bubblegum. There are a few characters who appear in the videos besides Poppy—one of her recurring guests is a talking mannequin.
And it seems that Poppy's hold on pop culture has only just begun. This year, Poppy released her first studio album, embarked on a nationwide tour, was featured in a Sanrio ad campaign, and teamed up with Comedy Central for a Snapchat show.

Poppy makes music, but given the scope of her output on YouTube (she produces a new video nearly every day) that's only a marginal part of what she does. Her videos depict a chilly, robot-inflected reality that's rendered in candied pastel hues. Tell Poppy that you find her videos to be creepy, and she'll answer, sweetly, "Thank you."
Poppy is built to be mesmerizing. Here is a new brand of celebrity at the nexus of one-off meme maker, legitimate pop star, and avant-garde artist. The more you learn about her, the harder it is to tear your eyes from your screen as she pushes you to follow, to comment, to subscribe. And so you do, hoping that maybe it will bring you one step closer to understanding her.

"We have this massive range of audience, from your 9-year-old little girl who loves Hello Kitty to a 35-year-old adult who watches Comedy Central religiously. She is an anomaly'. Nick Groff, Poppy's manager.

This is the magic of Poppy, a star for today's internet, exquisitely designed to dig her pink fingernails into your brain.