Carolina Is the Danish Cool Girl Learning to Choose Herself.

When I spoke to Caroline , it didn’t feel like a typical interview. It felt more like sitting across from someone who is right in the middle of becoming, Not finished, not certain, but open to the world. There is something very honest about that stage of life, and you don’t always hear it spoken out loud. Caroline  is 22, soon 23, and she doesn’t have everything figured out.

“I have no idea what’s going to happen,” 

She tells me, almost lightly. But the way she says it doesn’t feel like panic, no t feels more like she’s standing in front of a lot of doors, trying to understand which ones are actually hers to open. She describes herself simply. 

“I’m definitely more creative than academic.”

After high school, she tried to follow a more traditional path in life, she enrolled in a marketing economics programme, something that felt structured and safe but very quickly, something didn’t sit right.“I was disappointed by how little creativity there was,” she says. “I realised there needs to be much more creativity for me to stay interested.”

So she left, not with a perfect plan, not with certainty, but with the understanding that forcing herself into something that didn’t feel right wasn’t the answer, and now she’s giving herself time.

“I’ve dropped out to do this full time, at least for the next six months,” she explains. “I’m giving myself until next summer to figure something out.”

There is something very simple about that decision, but also very brave, giving yourself time means sitting in the unknown instead of rushing into something that looks stable from the outside. A lot of Caroline ’s life right now is built around something small, almost ordinary, a café in Copenhagen called Lagoni og Co, but the way she speaks about it, it becomes something else entirely. Her boyfriend owns the café. It’s where they met, where she started working, and over time it became a space where different parts of her creativity could exist.

“I kept looking at this extra room and thinking it could be something else,” she says.

Six months ago, she opened a small second-hand clothing shop inside the café, called 'Kærlig Hilsen', with two of her friends, now what used to be a storage room is a space filled with curated pieces, textures, colours, silhouettes that feel slightly nostalgic but still young.

“It’s very down to earth,” she says. “We just really believe there is so much clothing out there already.”

It’s not about building something overly polished,  it’s about creating something that feels real; a place people can walk into, touch things, try things, and spend time.

“People have never gone to cafés as much as they do now,” she adds. “So it just made sense to merge the two. To keep real-life shopping alive.”

The café has also become a kind of creative hub, hosting small music sessions, bringing in artists, filming moments, and with that it isn’t one defined thing, and maybe that’s why it works. “It’s the essence for me,” she says.

Her first real step into the industry happened almost by accident, two years ago, Uniqlo found her on Instagram, and shortly after that led to modelling work, then more opportunities, then travelling to Seoul, Japan, and short periods in Paris.

“I realised there are so many ways to be creative,” she says.

Since then, things have grown quickly, she now works with an agency and her platform continues to build, but even with that momentum, she hasn’t rushed into defining herself too tightly, she’s still exploring. That’s where things start to feel more complex, because while the creative world feels open, the outside world doesn’t always understand it.

“My parents are the type to say, ‘You’re in a hurry,’” she tells me. “I think it’s really hard for them to understand this world.”

But it’s not a lack of support. If anything, it’s the opposite, just expressed in a different way.

“My mum always says, ‘I’m not worried about you for one second.’ And my dad says, ‘If you’re happy, then I’m happy.’”

There’s something very grounding in that kind of support. It’s steady, it’s loving, but it doesn’t always come with a full understanding of what she’s building, which is only natural, when our parents come from a different background and reality, where social media wasn’t even a pathway, nonetheless exist in their youth.  

“They believe in me and in my creativity,” she explains, “but social media is hard for them to understand, especially how it becomes a secure future.”

And so there is still a quiet feeling of needing to prove something. Not because they doubt her, but because the outcome is still invisible to them.

“The biggest thing I’m building is my community,” she says. “But it’s hard to share that with them because it’s so personal and still mostly online.” She adds: “The few times I meet followers in real life, I always think… I wish my mum and dad were here to see it.”

It’s a small moment, but it says a lot. About this generation, about this industry, and about how some of the most meaningful things you build today don’t always translate easily into something tangible. It’s a tension a lot of young creatives live with, knowing something has potential while also feeling the pressure to prove that it’s real. Caroline  doesn’t seem interested in forcing validation. At one point in our conversation, we started talking about YouTube. She laughs when it comes up. 

“I feel like I don’t have a personality,” she says. “I think of people like Emma Chamberlain who can just talk and talk. I don’t feel like I have that.”

But then she talks about filming small moments at the café, little clips of her day, and you realise it’s not that she doesn’t have something to show, it’s that she hasn’t fully seen it yet. She explains how creating videos reminds her of being younger.

“It speaks to my childhood self,” she says. “I used to make little videos all the time.”

That feeling, of returning to something that always felt natural, is often where the real direction is, and sitting with Caroline during this conversation, I felt it very clearly. Not confusion, not doubt, but that very specific moment in your early twenties where everything is open, but nothing is certain yet. And I found myself wanting to tell her something I’ve learned a little later than I wish I had, so I did. I told her not to rush into the safe choice just because it feels responsible, that if something creative is pulling at her, she should follow it, even if she doesn’t fully know where it leads yet and that is trying things, taking courses, starting something and changing direction, none of that is wasted time. That is the process because from where I was sitting, it felt obvious to me, Caroline  has something, there is a certain softness to her, but also a curiosity, a natural eye and a natural way of creating that feels instinctive rather than forced, the kind of thing you can’t really teach.

So sure, she might not have a clear plan yet, but she has the foundation, and sometimes, at that age, what you need isn’t certainly, it's the permission you allow yourself; permission to take your time, to explore, to believe that you could actually go far if you allow yourself to try.