Watch Aespa Play a Rousing Round of Never Have I Ever
Do the members of Aespa ever mute the group chat? For answers to that—and a host of other deeply searching questions—watch the full video.
Reported by Vogue.
There is something quietly fascinating about watching four people who have spent years moving in sync — same stages, same choreography, same cramped dorm — reveal just how much of each other's lives they've absorbed. Aespa sat down with Vogue for a round of Never Have I Ever, and what emerged wasn't a PR-polished Q&A but an actual portrait of a group that has genuinely grown into each other.
The music taste alone is worth noting. Karina, Giselle, Winter, and Ningning listed recent listens that span Frank Ocean's "White," Billie Holiday's "Blue Moon," and Erykah Badu's "The Healer" — a range that signals these are women with real, varied inner lives beyond the idol machine. They also copped to listening to their own music on repeat, which is less narcissistic than it sounds and more like the behavior of any working artist who lives inside their craft.
Shared Closets and Forgotten Lyrics
Since debuting in 2020, the four have developed the kind of intimacy that only comes from proximity and time. All of them admitted to raiding each other's wardrobes without asking — "Back when we used to live in one dorm together, it was like a closet. The whole house was a closet, basically," Karina recalled — which is, honestly, the most relatable thing a K-pop idol has ever said. They've practiced choreography in public. They've searched their own fancams. And every single one of them has blanked on lyrics mid-performance, which is forgivable when you're sitting on a discography of more than 70 songs.
The details that stick aren't the big revelations but the small ones: that Karina's ability to actually sleep well is a source of genuine envy among her bandmates, that the group chat may or may not get muted, that four people who started as labelmates have landed somewhere much closer to family. Fashion — borrowed, shared, essentially communal — turns out to be one of the quieter throughlines of that intimacy.
A group's longevity is rarely just about the music; it's about whether the people making it can actually stand each other after the cameras stop — and Aespa, for what it's worth, seems to have figured that part out.
Read the original at Vogue.
