Something about LA’s cauldron of perfect weather, never-ending brand wars, and crowd diversity produced my favorite free time activity since moving from Seattle: waiting in lines. Truly, the amount of time I’ve spent staring at the back of someone’s sweatshirt is alarming. And my desk is a testament to this hobby. It is cluttered with samples, clothes, and even soaps from all the pop-ups I’ve stumbled into since my freshman year- each potent with a lesson one wouldn’t expect from a simple, stationary trinket.Â
In full honesty, almost every pop-up I’ve taken part in was unplanned. From random LA street corners to the smack-dab middle of campus, being a little spontaneous and open to new experiences has been the most rewarding mindset for me while living in a capital of perpetual pandemonium. ​​
To embark on my makeshift museum tour, we begin at the right corner underneath my desk where you will find the cutest mini tote bag holding a jar of free probiotic supplements from Olly. This is the newest addition to the collection- dating back to the week a friend and I, desperate to destress from midterms, stumbled upon a pop-up while wandering through a random LA neighborhood.Â
The experience was immersive and encouraged documentation: we stepped into a phone-booth setup, chose a women’s health question off a card, and recorded our answers for a future montage. It demonstrated to me that learning today is participatory, public and aesthetic- even something as intimate as reproductive health becomes a shared story, passed through community voices rather than delivered in a lecture. The “curriculum” can be woven together by strangers, and in today’s world, visibility becomes part of how that knowledge spreads.
Next, I’ll shift your attention to the bright pink water bottle from Slickhair next to my lamp- it’s hard to miss. This one takes me back to a misty morning freshman year, where I was trudging back from my class and spotted a flamboyant setup materializing at the center of campus.Â
While waiting behind many eager, slick back enthusiasts, we were given branded tote bags and wands; mine turned out to be defective and a staff member immediately replaced it without hesitation. Eventually we reached the star attraction- a claw machine- which is how this water bottle first came into my possession, and I still use it to this day. Instead of passively absorbing information, it was far more engaging to learn about their brand through participation, playful incentives and walking away with something tangible that now follows me around my daily life.Â
Pop-ups reveal how people represent institutions, and how micro-interactions, like little moments of professionalism and kindness, can entirely shape our understanding of an organization more than any mission statement. It was also refreshing to experience a crossroads of so many types of people- international brand representatives, Greek life members helping with promotion, and students from all corners of campus trying a new product together.Â
For the final leg of our tour, look to the brown Windsor top which is currently housed on this chair due to the shortage of hangers in this museum. This is the oldest piece we have, dating back to before one of the most chaotic, repetitive eras of history: rush.Â
Windsor had a fun, open air dressing room where girls could try on their favorite pieces and take them home for rush week. While a couple friends and I were trying on the tops, we got asked to be photographed for their online promo- something I never imagined myself doing. But I learned a lot that day about modern marketing: many organizations now build identity through relatability rather than exclusivity. By being confident and authentic, we as participants essentially become the “curriculum”, representing different groups of people and body types, reinforcing how identity isn’t something bolstered in lecture halls.Â
That concludes our tour, but this museum will keep growing in exhibits- and with it, there will be new experiences to learn from. First, though, we’ll be working on its relocation to a junk drawer.Â