Why I Queued Hours For The Rhode Pop-Up (Hint: It Wasn’t Just Makeup)

It’s 9 a.m. on a Saturday and instead of lazing in bed, I’m standing in a queue with at least 70 others who are just as committed to getting inside Rhode’s first London pop-up. Hailey Bieber’s coveted beauty brand has finally made its bricks-and-mortar debut in the city, albeit only for four days. Though temporary, its arrival has summoned what TikTok is calling a “new species”.

Enter: the Rhode Girlies. 

The Rhode Girlies were up before the sun to be the first ones through the door, and they’ve made peace with waiting in the unforgiving British weather; some have settled down on makeshift newspaper mats, fuelled by nothing but coffee and the almost-tangible dream of achieving strawberry girl status (IYKYK). My resilience was no match for the scores of fervent Rhode devotees who had been lining up since 6 a.m. so I crumpled up my wish list (the Lip Case and Pocket Blush, in case anyone’s interested) and dropped out. 

Over in Covent Garden, people with similar levels of patience were lining up at the Summer Fridays pop-up, where the first 50 customers would receive exclusive merch including samples of the brand’s Jet Lag Mask, a branded tote bag, scrunchie and jumper. At the very least, visitors would be rewarded with free hot chocolate and a floral bouquet, prime for digital documentation.

And document it they did. On TikTok, the phrase ‘Summer Fridays London Pop Up’ has earned hundreds of thousands of views and climbing. ‘Rhode Pop Up London’ has exceeded that by millions — even though Hailey Bieber was not in attendance. Naturally, these videos have amassed countless comments and questions on the who, where and why of it all — and not everyone gets it. “It’s baffling seeing these brand pop ups,” observed one TikToker underneath a video of the Rhode activation. “Basically you did a shift but instead being paid, you paid them instead 😫This needs to be studied.” Another commented, “I could understand if they were giving free products but the fact you queue all that time and have to pay, too 😫.”

In the case of Rhode, one thing is true: There will only ever be one first London pop-up. The knowledge that an event like this is temporary — and might not return — creates a sense of urgency and desire. But what is it about the brand? As a beauty obsessive, I firmly believe that Hailey Bieber’s products occupy a sweet spot between aspirational and accessible. That’s precisely why I sacrificed a precious Saturday lie-in for a chance to experience them all myself. I could finally play with the cutely packaged blush, the aesthetic lip tint and the moisturiser that has propelled countless food-inspired beauty trends into motion; think glazed doughnut skin and latte makeup. Though such micro trends have amassed criticism, it can be argued that they make us feel part of something bigger; a comforting thought in increasingly isolated times.

I reached out to Rhode for comment on the turnout in London but the brand did not respond. If TikTok is anything to go by, though, the number is potentially in the high hundreds. As a fan, I think that realistic aspiration is a huge driver behind its popularity. Louise Whitbread, a London-based beauty trend forecaster and brand consultant, suggests that owning a small slice of a viral beauty brand has become something of a status symbol. In other words, the It bag has made way for the It blush. “Being able to say ‘I got a branded Rhode water bottle’ or ‘I was the first person there’ lends consumers a certain type of clout,” she says. “Those on the ground get to be an authority, not just in the queue but in regard to the overall experience.”

Dr Helen Damon, a psychologist and senior lecturer in counselling psychology at City University, agrees that being part of an exclusive pop-up experience — especially one as momentary as Rhode’s — is a serious flex. “If anyone could walk in at any time and buy those products, they wouldn't be perceived as valuable,” Dr Damon tells me. Rhode is direct-to-consumer and that makes it feel exclusive. “[People think], I'm in a prized position or I’m at a prized location, and you're not,” says Dr Damon. Filming the queuing, especially, acts as proof of the value of the event, she adds. “It builds anticipation and increases the sense of  ‘achievement’ of scoring a product.” 

Certainly, Rhode felt like one big secret that I wasn’t in on — until the pop-up. Heading along gave me the same excited feeling I had back in 2017 when I queued for Glossier’s temporary shop. It was arguably Glossier that elevated the status of beauty products to something approaching a lifestyle; they became affordable luxuries. Besides Boy Brow, Balm Dotcom and Cloud Paint, Whitbread says that the brand’s sticker packs handed out with every order, identifiable bubble-wrap makeup bags and limited-edition pink hoodies became just as covetable. Not only did these items signal that you were in the know but they became markers of identity. The fan culture persists today. Whenever I pass Glossier’s now-permanent store in Covent Garden, there is almost always a sizable queue of eager tweens, all starry-eyed in anticipation. 

What’s more, it seems that beauty brand founders are becoming a new breed of celebrity. Hundreds turned out to meet makeup artist Jamie Genevieve, founder of Vieve, at pop-ups in London, Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester recently. Earlier this month, a meet-and-greet with Dame Pat McGrath drew hordes of makeup lovers to Selfridges, a handful of whom had pictures taken with the makeup artist and eyeshadow palettes signed by her. While Hailey Bieber didn’t show up at the London Rhode pop-up, it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that some of those lining up were motivated by the potential of seeing her IRL.

Clearly, beauty’s custom model of hype culture owes a lot to social media-induced FOMO. Days after I tapped out dejectedly from the Rhode pop-up queue, my TikTok algorithm continued to tease me with a steady stream of highlights from those who had stayed on. (Thirty more minutes and I could have been the proud owner of one of those water bottles.) The queue became a pictorial representation of Rhode’s biggest ambassadors who were there of their own free will. From a marketing perspective, there’s genuine power in the “real” content from this community versus potentially inauthentic sponsored reviews.

But forget the hauls for a second. The majority of content coming out of Rhode’s first London stint had little to do with the makeup products or purchases. Whatever was going on inside fell far short of the perks being offered outside, like cinnamon buns courtesy of trendy Buns From Home, lattes from Café Kitsuné and even monogrammed water bottles. These small but impactful incentives did what the ‘add to cart’ button will never do: They created a real sense of community and belonging. 

Varya Barbara Ershova, 22, waited in line for four hours and said that she would do it all over again — even though she found the actual store underwhelming. “I’ve always wanted to try Rhode’s products after hearing all the hype around it. I don’t enjoy online shopping and didn’t have much to do on Friday so I just headed down to the pop-up myself. I met so many new people while waiting in the queue and exchanged IGs with two girls,” she tells me. Ershova and her newfound besties aren’t the only ones. A viral TikTok video about making friends in line was even reposted by Hailey Bieber herself. “[Rhode staff] handed out water, food and other free stuff which made it worth it,” says Ershova. “The lining up was more of an experience than the shop.” All that waiting prompted her to buy more products than she intended to. Ershova’s haul, reposted by Rhode on TikTok, further rewarded her efforts. 

Refinery29's deputy beauty director, Jacqueline Kilikita, recalls going to the Milk Makeup pop-up in 2019. Besides being able to swatch all of the products IRL, what she loved most was how it brought likeminded beauty obsessives together. “We all had a shared interest in the brand, which felt so unique at the time, and there was a real buzz in the air,” she says. “Being able to try products I’d had my eye on for a while, and bouncing off people with the same love of makeup as me, felt really wholesome.”

Sonika Phakey, formerly part of the content operations team at TikTok, working on global lifestyle strategic partnerships, agrees that brands like Rhode have nurtured a sense of community through such activations. But for many other attendees, it’s also about social capital. “[People are] motivated by the engagement and kudos they'll receive from posting about the pop-up,” says Phakey. “It speaks to the rise of aspiring beauty nano-creators who purchase products or attend pop-ups primarily to create content and build their influence.” Sure enough, countless low-lift TikTok videos posted on the day have since amassed millions of views and counting. 

For those questioning the rationale behind spending so much time in a queue for a beauty pop-up like Rhode or Summer Fridays — especially when the alternative of online shopping exists — perhaps it’s worth asking if you would view streetwear enthusiasts through the same critical lens. The loyalists camping outside beauty pop-ups share a similar motivation to those setting up outside Supreme ahead of the latest clothes drop. The only difference is that one lusts after glossy lips while the other is turned on by limited-edition trainers. Both objects of affection affirm a social status, have a barrier to entry and rely on an exclusive direct-to-consumer-model. If lining up all day to get your hands on makeup — a typically feminine-coded interest — seems more silly or absurd than waiting for hours to snag a pair of trainers, that speaks volumes about our gendered and cultural biases. 

Bieber’s strawberry girls and Supreme’s hypebeasts have more in common than you might think. While the price tag of a Rhode Lip Case (£38) is nowhere near that of a Supreme x Nike Air Force 1 (over £282), both items promise self-sustaining dopamine hits — not just when sported on the ‘gram but also in real life. Kilikita, who was gifted the viral Rhode lip phone case at the pop-up’s press event a day before it opened to the public, can attest to that. “The sheer number of people that have stopped me on the Tube to have a closer look, or grabbed my phone out of my hand to touch it at beauty events, is wild,” she tells me. “Every time I slip the lip balm out of the case and apply it in public, I check to see if people are looking at me — and the case. I don't know, it just makes me feel good!”

Besides merch, can beauty products such as Rhode’s cutesy blush become a collector’s item like trainers? It’s complicated. “Streetwear has a huge focus on the resale market but the business of reselling beauty products is slightly more tricky because of hygiene issues,” says Whitbread. However, Dr Damon argues that the intrinsic shelf-life of makeup can also work to a brand’s advantage and, coincidentally, make us feel great: “My eyeshadow almost certainly won't increase in value; I can't pass it on to my children so I'd better wear it and enjoy it,” she says.

While the Rhode pop-up has shut up shop for now, it left behind a palpable sense of community and fondness that had strangers bonding over their mutual love of makeup, which has become an affordable luxury thanks to the high cost of living. The event was far more than skin deep; best friends had a fun day out and many of those who arrived solo cultivated new relationships. As for me? I came for the goods but stayed for the memories. That warm feeling those cinnamon buns and sweet hot chocolate ignited? Rhode’s Toasted Teddy Pocket Blush and Espresso Lip Tint do exactly the same thing.