Is Addison Rae coming pop for

I’m looking for the black Range Rover with the glittery pink license-plate frame.

- By BRITTANY SPANOS

● It’s the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and the passenger pickup at LAX is packed and lawless. When the SUV pulls up, Addison Rae is behind the wheel in a striped pinafore with nothing underneath it but black tape in two giant X’s covering her nipples. ● It was Rae’s idea to pick me up from the airport, and her car is as chaotic and ultrafemme as her persona. There are Chanel lipsticks and full-size bottles of Ex Nihilo perfumes in the compartment beneath the touch screen. Her back seat has at least one tutu, a wig, an embellished bra she found on Etsy, and a copy of Vanity Fair’s October 1992 issue, featuring a naked Madonna hanging off a pink pool floatie on the cover. The VIP pass from Charli XCX’s Brat release party last summer still sits in her car door, and beaded necklaces made by the songwriters who helped on her upcoming debut album hang around the rearview mirror. ● “Welcome to my place,” Rae says, giggling, as I settle in. She turns down her personal playlist, which features songs by Madonna, Prince, Marilyn Monroe, and Kate

Bush, as she smoothly navigates her way out of the airport and toward my hotel in Beverly Hills. She just moved to a new home nearby, but she’s not ready to show it off yet. It probably doesn’t look too dissimilar from her car; she says the only décor she has up yet are bras hanging from the light fixtures and a framed picture of Judy Garland mounted on a wall.