The smartest Diva In The Room

Mariah Carey has seen your memes. She’s read the DMs. She knows all you want for Christmas is her. But the icon is here to remind you what it took to wear the crown—and why she’s never giving it up.

- Jessica Herndon

Mariah Carey ıs famished.

It’s 10 p.m. on a Sunday night and we’re sitting in a private room inside one of the most expensive hotels in Dublin. She has taken off her Valentino stilettos— someone packed them for her, but they’re too small—and is patiently waiting for another someone to bring her snacks. The only things she’s had time to consume since waking up are a little protein shake and some psyllium, a fiber supplement.

One of the someones finally arrives with a platter of charcuterie and olives and a bottle of red wine. We clink glasses. Mariah takes a sip with her literal pinkie in the air, the large diamond butterfly ring on her right hand (there’s one on her left too) sparkling. She puts her bare feet up on a velvet ottoman. It’s tiring being in the middle of a global tour. Not an international tour, honey—a global one.

But after a few sips, Mariah is unsatisfied. “It just tastes disgusting,” she says, sending the wine back with an apology. (For the record, the replacement bottle was “not so great” either.)

Many, including Mariah, would say that she’s more than earned the right to demand exactly what she wants. This is the woman who entered the music business as an ingenue three decades ago, broke tons of records, and still, to this day, has produced more number one Billboard Hot 100 hits than any other female artist in history.

This is the woman who owned the entire ’90s: Hearing just one note from “Vision of Love,” “Always Be My Baby,” “Hero,” “Honey,” or “Heartbreaker” is enough to send elderly millennials straight back to the glory days of Steve Madden platforms, Delia*s catalogs, and My So- Called Life marathons. (When I listen to the chorus from “My All,” I can practically smell the middle school hair of my own Jordan Catalano.)