Mikaela Mullaney Straus, known widely as King Princess, made her professional debut with the hit single “1950.”  The song is an ironically heartwarming account of femininity, gender, and sexuality, and champions the rich history of the queer community.  “1950” has been acclaimed by many reputable sources including The New York Times, and was the first to come out of Mark Ronson’s record label Zelig Records. It was also featured on Saturday Night Live.  Her 2018 success was followed by the release of her second brooding single “Talia,” chart-topping EP “Make My Bed,” and premiere album “Cheap Queen.”

 

King Princess is gay and genderqueer (using she/her pronouns), and has vocally encouraged young people to embrace their individuality.  Pop icon Harry Styles has praised KP for her unwavering authenticity and inspiring androgyny, a similarly active opponent of the suffocating male grasp on society.  Though King Princess rose higher in popularity after Styles tweeted a lyric of hers, she was no stranger to the music scene.  Her father Oliver Straus owns Mission Sound, a recording studio from Brooklyn, so King Princess quite literally grew up in the industry.  A major component of her relentlessly genuine sound was the steady stream of artists whom she saw being forced to drown out their personalities with the deafening shrill of capitalism.

 

The inspiration for “1950” lies in Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel “The Price of Salt.”  Highsmith published the piece under a pseudonym-- so thematically telling of the sentiment of KP’s song.  In the 1950s, as King Princess tells Genius, queer couples were forced to stifle their feelings and love privately.  An important part of this history was the art that came out of it, and she felt it was necessary to salute those who shone in secrecy.

 

King Princess compares the disheartening pressure of 1950s seclusion to that of a cold, unrequited relationship in the warbling of “It’s so cold that your stare’s bout to kill me, I’m surprised when you kiss me.”  In an interview, she admits that the song is about a real person, about a real relationship that ended poorly-- an element of truthfulness that is invaluable.  The second verse ends with Highsmith-era emotion, KP declaring that “I like it when we play 1950.  So bold, make them know that you’re with me.”

 

Even in 2021, almost three years after its release, pop fanatics and the newly heartbroken alike don’t dare remove “1950” from their playlists.  It’s the perfect queer anthem, reminiscent of an astoundingly turbulent time period and indicative of chilling feminine romance.