Engulfed by the Los Angeles sun, Gracie Abrams always felt the need to quietly tuck into a sanctuary of her own making. When she was a child, she would imitate young Simba’s high timbre in “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King.” Now, she has three music projects and will have an international tour under her belt. She swapped her time at Barnard College for a self-embarked tutelage in music. Akin to one of her admired songstresses, SZA, Gracie opted for Soundcloud to catalog those initial rough cuts. Her song “21” rippled through radio airwaves in early 2020, asher audience found solace in her vulnerability. A few singles later, and she released the 12-track, This Is What It Feels Like, in 2021, unearthing insecurities that inhabit a one-way admission into adulthood.

“Lately, my sanctuary is in the woods,” Gracie says. “I love being in the trees. I feel immediately grounded there. Because I was away from home for a while, I took my dog, Weenie, to the beach for the first time ever.” She continues, beaming, “In recent memory, it’s been the happiest day of my life. It made me cry watching this animal that I love so much be so joyful and free. I felt like I could feel what he was feeling.” 

These days, Gracie’s afternoon haven has transformed into a stadium stage as she opens up for Taylor Swift on the Eras Tour. The musician seizes and ensnares the melancholy that punctuates her twenty-somethings. Now 23, she lounges back in her green hoodie, radiating warmth, almost becoming one with the armor of comfort. Her hair is loose and tucked into her clothing, her face free of makeup. She’s a couple hours away from opening the Houston show at NRG Stadium, which seats over 70,000 fans. It’s evident that there’s an initial apprehensiveness to the self-analysis that comes by way of interviews. Little by little, she starts unfurling, smiling as she gives a black tea recommendation.

“I cannot imagine not feeling so intensely and deeply about everything,” she says. “I used to turn to writing more immediately in moments of extreme pain. Now, I don’t rely on writing as my tool for feeling better. I find myself leaning into writing about mundane details that spark my interest.” 

Over the course of her album, Good Riddance, Gracie draws into her inner world and weaves her emotions into a lattice. The songs are best suited for a long-winded drive, battle cry brewing. Narratives of overcoming grief and loneliness are a testament to falling over and doubling up on endurance. Good Riddance was a means to push through the heavy feelings. A rejuvenation of sorts. She casts her album into a painting, “I’m by no means an artist in that regard,” she jokes, “But, what pops into my mind is a person walking through an open door. They are walking into a new chapter.”

Her latest release is everything that sets her aflame: family, friends, disappointments, delights, the chirps of morning birds when she heads to a rural setting, to the very cereal in a mug that she has for breakfast. Her desire to write became insatiable at a young age. It was a means to communicate girlhood. Is anyone feeling this yearning? Is she entirely alone in this? That intense introspection that welled up needed to find a home. For some, that reassurance comes in the form of a Tumblr blog, a YouTube video, or a spiral of tweets. But for Gracie, writing comes naturally, often jotting down lines on the closest paper she can find (many times, opting for graph), but from time to time she returns to her journal. “Writing became my lifeline as I started to go through all of the shit that we go through. I felt drawn to writing because it didn’t require another person, I felt like I could control it on my own and be honest about things I didn’t want to say to other people. I didn’t go into songwriting thinking I want to put on a character. I was always showing up as myself.”

She grew up in a household that cherished storytelling. Her mom through producing, her father, accomplished Hollywood personality, J.J. Abrams, through directing, her brother with an eye for design. Early on, Gracie would skim through books and underline passages that led her to an all-encompassing imagination. She smiles when recalling how her mom tells her to voyage through life with curiosity intact. “My mom always said that to be curious is the most important thing because it puts you immediately outside of yourself,” she shares.

Then I wasted my breath, when I tried to console you, Gracie reveals in the song “I should hate you.” Before the words are put to paper, they are mysteries the artist tries to parse out in her head. When recently working alongside producer, Aaron Dessner, she let go of any inhibitions. They collaborated in the earth sign paradise (Gracie a Virgo, Dessner a Taurus), of Hudson Valley, New York with large windows overseeing woodland. There, Dessner was the witness to Gracie’s evolution, giving counsel as Good Riddance took shape. “I’m practicing more accountability in my writing,” Gracie shares. “It is what makes me feel like I’m evolving as a writer.I feel incredibly lucky to have found Aaron Dessner because the dynamic that we shared is a specific one, one that makes everything feel fun even if we are writing about heavy shit. Everything pours out without much tugging.”

There are songs on the record like “Amelie” that deal with a longed-for character gone MIA. Who is Amelie? A phantom? A confidant? Gracie herself? It’s up to the listener to connect the dots. She sweetly hums the melody of the song, “Amelie started as a journal entry. It was such a lovely day, I remember it was so quick. I wrote the song as Aaron strummed on the guitar. There was something so nice about how sparse it was. We quickly recorded it. It’s one of my favorite songs for that reason.” She smiles, “There’s a freedom that is so undeniable that allows for things to happen out of thin air.” 

Perhaps the lowest point was reminiscing on lyrics that stumble through the dark moments of a relationship.“What was hard about writing a handful of the songs was the fact that it was the first place where I was admitting to a lot of these feelings that were pent up. ‘I know it won’t work’ and ‘best’ were challenging. It was this big reveal about how I’ve been feeling. I told Aaron I thought it was too much—he told me to get over it. He played a crucial role in learning how to trust myself, not just as an artist, but as a person. The process of making this album was a tool just like writing was for me at 10 years old.”

Music chose Gracie, not the other way around. She never intended on becoming a singer—it was a necessity. One where she kneaded her vulnerability into words. At the end of the day, it was a tactile expression. “I never wanted to be a singer, I wanted to be a writer. I was a kid that wrote all the time and I wasn’t loud about that and it got to the point when I realized no one else would be singing my songs for a very long time,” she admits. “When I started listening to artists that I could tell were singing their own lyrics, there was something that immediately felt compelling. They used their own voice to emphasize honesty and vulnerability. I admired Phoebe Bridgers, Taylor Swift, and Lorde because they were not shy about letting people into their world, even if it is scary.”

The record liberated Gracie. But her natural progression fascinated an audience that routinely comments, “I feel seen,” on her music videos. Inhabiting her namesake, Gracie speaks with eloquence about leaning as closely onto the pain as in joy. Her thoughts curl in, “I feel similarly about people commenting these things. I feel very much like it’s a two-way street that is built on honesty. It is so evident at live shows, which has been a life-altering experience in terms of connecting with people face-to-face and hearing their voices and stories as they tie it to the songs that I wrote in isolation feeling very alone. It has reminded me that it is possible for all of us to connect with each other regardless of our backgrounds being so wildly different.

”And yet the joy of connecting with her fans also means putting herself out there in a new and vulnerable way. Gracie brings up a line from her icon Joni Mitchell, who pointed a bow-and-arrow at her detractors. Mitchell disclosed in a CBC News interview that, “I don’t go around feeling misunderstood. When I go out, I’m misunderstood, I see a butterfly, I go for a swim, I go out, I’m misunderstood.” In a similar vein, many tend to zero in and mythologize Gracie. Despite being lauded as a public persona, Gracie is without artifice. “There’s so much noise, there’s so much shit, I credit my therapist heavily and my badass friends who are very wise,” she states with a moxie that leaves her more composed and self-assured.

Embarrassments, moments of plain silliness, the natural give-and-take of heartbreak, she owns up to them all. They are markers of being alive. In fact, she embraces them. She confides, “Just because you write your feelings and put them out to the world or you act with all the emotions you have or you paint with all the experiences and trauma, people respond by dissecting your every move and labeling you xyz.”

Gracie pauses and reflects for a moment, “It’s a really lucky thing when you can feel like others understand you, but real artists make something because they have to, not because they want people to easily digest something in two seconds. It’s really fulfilling when the work that you do is understood, but I don’t think the point is for it to be understood. When what you’re bringing to the table is so personal, you’re often being laughed at or people are nodding alongside you. I think that it’s part of the job to have thick skin and understand that it is impossible to please everyone.”

When she is not writing, she is baking and walking with her friends and Weenie in tow, keeping her grounded. She laughs as she recalls that within her friendships she both feels a childlike exuberance and leans into her sage grandma sensibilities. “My female friendships have been so fucking important, now more than ever. I was never a person who had a massive friend group growing up, but now I feel very clear about who my real friends are. It’s a village of women that I look up to. Nourishing those friendships makes me feel like I’m 10 years old and also 800. The female perspective is so emotional and so thoughtful. It feels golden. The happiest parts of life that I can recall have been with those friendships.”

As someone who finds safety in beelining to her bedroom comforts, she has recently invited more spontaneity into her days. “I have been able to travel so much recently, every city I have gone to feels like a clean slate. I feel very excited by being in places I don’t know well. I feel immediately curious whenever I see someone driving a car in a city I’ve never been to. It’s like everyone is the center of their own universe and that’s so magical. Similarly, the feeling that I felt when I was a kid and would write a song is how I feel today. There’s an excitement to create something that you are proud of that doesn’t require other people. It’s just me, my guitar, my pet, my notebook. There’s a joy there that remains unchanged.”

As her sanctuary continues to grow ever larger, Gracie is running wild and free, much like the portrait she initially painted. “I’ll be thinking of you when I perform today,” she says, as a send off, but I imagine it’s a personal salutation for all of her audience. One that is signed, sealed, and delivered, with the unfiltered insignia: GA.

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Photographed by Dennis Leupold

Written by Jasmine Rodriguez

Styled by Mui-Hai Chu

Hair by Arbana Dollani

Makeup by Loftjet

Flaunt Film: Mynxii White

Photo Assistants: Allison Lopez and Winston Kingstro

Style Assistants: Lauren Blakely

Production Assistant: Rebecca Dumitrescu