I don’t want to be *that* person, but I’ve been a proud Swiftie since she was an ACTUAL EMBRYO. Ok, not quite that long, but it has been a long-standing, beautiful (and entirely parasocial) love affair. I first jumped on the Taylor bandwagon in 2009, when Kanye West’s stage invasion during her MTV Awards acceptance speech sent my feminist antennae into overdrive. Unimpressed with his antics – she was just 20 years old, let her enjoy her moment in the spotlight, mun! – I decided to find out what all the fuss was about.
That led me to her early country-tinged pop tunes, like’ Love Story’ and ‘You Belong with Me’, total earworms showing she could write songs that stuck to your brain like Nashville-flavoured chewing gum. With her flowing blonde curls, cowboy boots, and girl-next-door charm, she didn’t try to be cool or edgy; she was unashamedly herself, which was both refreshing and endearing.
With each new album, my admiration for Taylor grew. 2011’s Red was a turning point, demonstrating her ability to craft killer pop tunes and songs with profound depth, like ‘All Too Well’, a masterclass in vivid storytelling and lyrical craftsmanship.
Soon, my Swiftie tendencies became a running office joke. In 2015, Secret Santa brought me a Taylor Swift colouring book (minutes of fun!) and a mug emblazoned with the words “What would Taylor do?”. When a male colleague snarkily joked that the answer was “dump him and write an album about it”, I couldn’t help but point out the double standard. Bob Dylan, Ed Sheeran and Eric Clapton (amongst countless others) have built long careers writing about lost loves, so why should she be singled out for doing the same thing? That shut him up. Haters gonna hate, I guess.
Her next record, 1989, became the soundtrack to long car journeys with my young son, spawning the comedy misheard lyric “Gotta love those Starbucks lovers!” (actual words: “I’ve got a long list of ex-lovers”. Nothing like owning that reputation with a wink, Tay). On a trip to Venice, I found a new best friend from New York after Shaking It Off on the dancefloor together. The international language of Swift in action!
By 2018, Taylor’s sound had evolved significantly. I was lucky enough to get tickets for her Reputation stadium tour in Manchester, a stunning performance that showcased a new, darker, and more experimental sound. The album’s heavy electro, hip-hop, and synth-pop influences, along with themes of revenge and resilience, reflected her response to living under intense media scrutiny. It was a risky creative direction, but by now, she could do no wrong in the eyes of a growing army of Swifties. I felt fortunate to see her live at that point in her career, and I lost my voice singing along with every word.
Even a pandemic didn’t stop her; her Evermore and Folklore albums were released in 2020. With their introspective narrative-driven lyrics and stripped-back indie folk, these were the sounds of an artist pushing artistic boundaries when she could so easily have played it safe.
Can you IMAGINE my excitement when she announced she was bringing her Eras tour to Cardiff this summer? The prospect of seeing her perform highlights from every album in her 17-year career, within walking distance from my house, was almost too much.
I’m 42 years old, and I haven’t experienced anticipation like this since Peter Andre played at Cwmbran Athletics Stadium in 1994 (just like Taylor, I have never pretended to be cool).
When the day finally arrived (I had been counting off calendar days impatiently for months), the show was worth the wait. The production was flawless, from the elaborate stage designs and stunning visuals to the intricate choreography and sparkling costumes. This is an artist at the top of her game, and she knows it.
Taylor delivered a flawless three-hour set; the energy levels didn’t dip once. I’d seen Bruce Springsteen deliver a set of similar length just weeks earlier, but he has decades on Taylor. Apparently, she trained for the tour by belting out the setlist while running full pelt on a treadmill. Whatever you think of her music, you can’t deny her work ethic. As it happens, I think she’s a poet for our times. Anyone who gets all snobby, because she’s popular, is usually the worst type of crashing bore.
But the evening of 18 June was about so much more than what Taylor and crew delivered on stage. The energy in the crowd made the night a genuinely magical once-in-a-lifetime experience.
I don’t love big crowds, and this was a 70,000-capacity sell-out, but it felt like the safest space I’ve ever been in. From early morning, when fans started queuing for the best spots, the city shimmered with excitement and, later on, unadulterated joy. In hindsight, I think the absence of large all-male groups played a part; the audience, which spanned at least six decades, skewed female and queer. We complimented each other’s outfits, swapped friendship bracelets and hugged and danced with strangers.
The air crackled with positivity and kindness. For example, when I realised I didn’t have the cash to pay a glitter face painter, she painted my face for free because she liked my specially-made banner. When else would that happen? Two fans from Singapore gave me friendship bracelets, which I still wear proudly. When Taylor welcomed us to the show in Welsh (“Croeso i’r taith Eras!”), I thought the stadium roof might explode.
I wish it were possible to bottle that unique atmosphere so that every day could be like a Taylor Swift concert. Let’s normalise wearing pink metallic cowboy boots and face glitter! Most of all, I wish the city was always full of all those beaming faces. It felt like swimming in a sea of smiles.
A few days later, still in my shiny Swift bubble, I read that Cardiff’s economy is £64 million up thanks to the star’s whistlestop visit. She also donated a year’s worth of meals to the city’s food bank. Chwarae teg.
And just like that, she was gone, leaving just memories – and a lot of sequins and feathers – behind. For 70,000 of us, it’s a night we’ll remember all too well. I never want to shake it off (sorry).
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