Kute K-pop Pillows in Carman

Carman may be known for its athletes, alcohol-stained carpeting, and the fact that the bedboards can be removed and placed across two chairs to create beer pong tables, but one freshman is doing it better with his daringly decorated dorm.  Filled with K-pop tchotchkes, this poppin’ room was calling for a RoomHop feature. We sent Daily Editor Nadra Rahman to check it out.

Entering Andrew’s Carman dorm is like entering a shrine, once you look past his roommate’s decidedly muted half of the room. If the room is a shrine, it is an altar to K-pop, a musical genre originally from Korea but appreciated worldwide, to the extent that it informs fan obsessions and lifestyle choices alike. Chances are, you or a friend has been entranced by the slick moves, bright aesthetics, and charmingly incomprehensible lyrics of a K-pop music video—but Andrew takes his interest to another level.

Every free surface on his side of the room is covered with K-pop posters. They betray his weakness for girl groups, with the groups Girls’ Generation, Miss A, Orange Caramel, and Girl’s Day showing up on his walls with regularity. Boy bands aren’t totally abandoned, however, as indicated by a themed calendar from one of his favorite groups that hangs from the wall (although he grimaces when he changes the month in front of me, caught off guard by the face of his least favorite member). Members of another band are represented in the free-standing figures that crowd his desk—the figures are surrounded, of course, by the benevolent faces of the members of Girls’ Generation.

If a space isn’t filled by a poster, it’s covered by a photograph of a dreamy K-pop idol, and if not that, it might contain one of the 26 physical albums that are stacked haphazardly throughout the room. On his bed, you can always ease in with one of his pillows, specially printed with the faces of favorite male idols.

It’s a lot to take in, but Andrew tells me he doesn’t care about the reaction of the unsuspecting stranger who might stumble into his room—he decorates his room for himself. He says to me, “There’s something calming to me about being able to walk into my dorm and see an explosion of color on my wall, about going to sleep with dozens of my favorite faces staring down at me, about having them be the first thing I see when I wake up every day.” And of course, he doesn’t foresee himself redecorating his room anytime soon (maybe on some “bleak, bleak day”).

His uncompromising nature is almost inspiring, though Andrew does note that he finds himself jealous of his roommate at times. With characteristic dryness, he says, “When I look across the room from my bed, I see nothing but his rumpled sheets, dirty clothes, and bikes. He, on the other hand, gets to look over and see a world of beauty.”

While it might be easy to think of Andrew’s obsession in a negative light, he tells me that he’s found himself much happier since he started listening to K-pop a few years ago. Although he no longer has time for other hobbies like gaming and watching television, he’s eager to dedicate himself to CU Generation, the K-pop inspired dance group he has recently joined.

And in defense of obsessive dedication, Andrew makes a declaration: “That’s the point of an obsession, isn’t it? To give you something to be passionate about, something that you’re excited to experience every day. It doesn’t matter what your passion is, as long as it’s something.”

(If you dare, you can enter the den of danger that is K-pop with one of Andrew’s recommendations.)