There is a specific kind of delirium that sets in around hour four of standing in line when the Los Angeles sun decides to remind you that winter is officially over. For my friends and me, that delirium was fueled by smoothie breaks and the stubborn hope of getting inside the Harry Styles Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. pop-up shop.
It started before dawn in Isla Vista.
We piled into the car and hit the road by 7 a.m., buzzing with the kind of excitement that only a spontaneous road trip for a once-in-a-lifetime event can bring. By 9 a.m., we were pulling into a lot near Melrose Avenue, shelling out a painful $55 for parking — the first (but not the last) financial commitment of the day.
Because we had an American Express card, we made a beeline for the Amex line. The perk was pretty good in theory: card members could bring a guest, and we were technically granted early access starting at 9 a.m., while the general public had to wait until 11 a.m. But here’s the reality check — unless you camped out overnight, the early-access window didn’t shave much time off. We took our place in the Amex queue at roughly 8435 Melrose Ave while the official pop-up was located at 8483 Melrose Ave. It wasn’t even a full block from the store, which felt promising. Five hours later, we would finally cross the threshold.
The Wait: Heat, Hope, and High-End Observations
The hours in line were really testing our patience. The regular line, we quickly realized, was a beast of its own — snaking around several blocks, growing so long that rumors swirled about fans who simply wouldn’t make it inside before close. We considered ourselves lucky.
The LA weather was, predictably, brutal.
The sun beat down, and the heat made the wait feel twice as long. We could feel and see ourselves burning. We survived by taking turns holding our spot while others ventured off to find smoothies and snacks to keep our energy up.
It became a little rotation: stand, sweat, fan yourself, maybe sit on the curb, repeat.
One of the best distractions was simply people-watching in the neighborhood. The Melrose area is a spectacle on a normal day, but this was next level. We passed some incredibly chic coffee shops and boutique gyms.
The highlight?
A woman walking into her pilates studio carrying nothing but a pristine Hermès Birkin bag. It was such a quintessentially LA moment that it felt like an illusion. Every few minutes, a car would slow down, windows rolled down, and someone would shout, “What are you all waiting for?” The answer — “Harry Styles” — was met with everything from knowing nods to looks of utter bewilderment.
Inside the Dream (Finally)
And then, after five hours, we were in. I know it sounds insane to say “it was all worth it” after a wait that long and nearly sweating all the water out of my body, but stepping inside that store, I meant it.
The employees had the process down to a science. As soon as we entered, we were handed laminated order forms and whiteboard pens. The instruction was clear: place your orders first. This kept the chaos at bay and let us actually enjoy the space without clutching our merch like nervous parents at a toy store. We got to see every single item up close — clothing racks overflowing with tees and hoodies, tables covered in socks and totes, shelves displaying the quirky towels and mugs we’d only seen online.
But the shopping was almost secondary to the experience they had built.
We took photos. So. Many. Photos. Giant posters of Harry dominated the walls, serving as backdrops for countless poses. We wandered through a glass greenhouse, a perfect replica of the ones featured in Styles’ own promotional teasers. Adjacent to it was a fully operational kitchen, straight out of the album’s dreamy aesthetic, with tomatoes, eggs, and other foods featured in Styles’ teasers.
The Disco Room
We walked into a room and were told to leave our phones outside. The instruction was to be “fully in the moment,” and for once, it didn’t feel like a gimmick. We stepped into a space that was pure magic. Fun house-style mirrors distorted our reflections, while countless disco balls spun overhead, catching the light and scattering it everywhere. The room was filled with the sounds of his new album, Kiss All the Time. Disco. Occasionally, it is played on high-quality stereos.
For those few minutes, it wasn’t about documenting the moment; it was just about being in it, dancing like no one was watching (even though, technically, we were all watching each other).
My second favorite touch was tucked away in a corner: a vintage photobooth. We piled in, crammed together, and pulled faces for the camera, walking away with a physical strip of film that felt infinitely more valuable than any digital picture.
My Takeaway
Was it crazy to drive from Isla Vista at dawn, pay over $50 to park, and stand in the heat for five hours? Absolutely. But as my first-ever pop-up experience, it wouldn’t be one I’d trade for anything.
It was more than a merch stop.
It was a tangible connection to the music and a shared adventure with my friends. We went for the merchandise, but we left with the memory of a disco room we had to experience with our own eyes, not through a screen.
And honestly, that’s the kind of magic you can’t put a price on.