has become a goddess to professional thirty-something women with dwindling love lives.
Taylor’s fans, ‘Swifties’, have created a reverence around the singer that is cult-like. If you aren’t , you are the enemy. If you aren’t there, you’re missing out.
Online Swifties, known to be among the most vicious of fan groups, won’t think twice before sending you death threats, doxing your friends and family, or trying to hack your social media accounts.
One reporter was even publicly accused by Swifties of being a paedophile for having the audacity to criticize Taylor’s current world-wide tour.
When I asked my girlfriends why they had booked entire days off work in the slim hope of bagging tickets for the wildly popular Eras shows, the answers were as follows:
‘Her songs are so catchy.’
‘She seems to represent the millennial female experience so well.’
‘I don’t even like her, really. I got tickets because of FOMO.’
Really, people freely frittering – in some cities – north of $1000 for a ticket to see a woman they aren’t that fussed on? Perhaps following the crowd really does make for an easier life.
Taylor Swift has become a goddess to professional thirty-something women with dwindling love lives. Taylor’s fans, ‘Swifties’, have created a reverence around the singer that is cult-like. If you aren’t in, you are the enemy. If you aren’t there, you’re missing out.
Online Swifties, known to be among the most vicious of fan groups, won’t think twice before sending you death threats, doxing your friends and family, or trying to hack your social media accounts.
Indeed, I’m probably making myself an open target by saying that I just don’t get it.
As a twenty-five year old, I am the prime demographic to be a die-hard fan.
I, too, have had my fair share of failed relationships and horrible ex-boyfriends. I’m not above a catchy song and, like Taylor, I also love cats.
But when it comes to Swift, I have never understood it. And as her fandom grows ever more deranged, as the media flocks to her side en masse, publishing breathless op-eds about how she is single handedly fending off the US recession with a tour that is predicted to fetch a record-busting $1.4 billion, or how her massing fans have caused literal ‘earthquakes’ at stadium venues (fact check: these tremors are a common occurrence with big stadium tours and sports games), I can’t help but think that this deification of Taylor Swift is neither healthy – nor deserved.
To me, Taylor Swift is just fine. And there will be plenty more like her. But somehow the universe is in a collective trance, unable to admit it.
If you read the New York Times this week, you will have seen a dance critic call Taylor’s moves ‘simple and unoriginal’, ‘stiff and awkward’, ‘imprecise and physically uncommitted’, yet still reach the conclusion that this parade of gawkiness is ‘powerful’, and ‘exceptionally effective’.
Now, of course, you don’t need to be a fan of Taylor’s to appreciate what she is clearly talented at.
The songwriting is indeed excellent on the handful of songs that she rinses, rewrites and repeats over and over for each ‘new’ album.
Her lyrics are, to a point, relatable. (Even if they do raise the question, after her umpteenth failed relationship, about which member of the couple is the toxic narcissist.)
She plays the guitar, piano, ukulele and the banjo. She treats her staff very well – reportedly dishing out six-figure bonuses to tour crew earlier this month – and is known for being generous.
Indeed, I’m probably making myself an open target by saying that I just don’t get it. But when it comes to Swift, I have never understood it. To me, Taylor Swift is just fine. And there will be plenty more like her. But somehow the universe is in a collective trance, unable to admit it.
She probably also volunteers at the soup kitchen on weekends and spends thousands of dollars a month sponsoring orphans. She is perfect! She is God!
But this is the main reason I take such aversion to her; Taylor Swift is a wonderfully crafted marketing ploy. She is a character and she real.
It’s genius, really — this undoubted, female, commercial success story , and she’s never so much as had a stint in rehab or a prescription pill problem.
Is that why she leaves me feeling nothing? The lack of grit, the ingredient that made me obsess over Miley Cyrus or admire Britney Spears.
Taylor was a teenager created for teenagers – and it worked. So much so that now she is thirty-three years old and still clearly engineered to appeal to high-on-sugar adolescents that are so dedicated to her that they would spend their monthly salary – or, rather, that of their parents – on a ticket to her shows.
She is inoffensive, largely sexless, unashamedly cringe – so, yes, maybe she does reflect the common experience of modern young women.
There must be more to her, but I’m not sure we will ever see it.
Taylor Swift is a wonderfully crafted marketing ploy. She is a character and she isn’t real. It’s genius, really — this undoubted, female, commercial success story worth a staggering $740 million and counting , and she’s never so much as had a stint in rehab or a prescription pill problem. Is that why she leaves me feeling nothing? The lack of grit.
The seemingly uncharacteristic love affair with accused racist and on-stage lunatic Matt Healy? The infamous Kanye scandal?
Come on, girl, show us the dirt!
Until then, I will console myself by imagining her backstage, pulling off a perfect blonde wig to reveal a femme fatale bob as she flicks cigarette ash onto one of her cats and cackles about getting away with the whole grift.
Then again, if her adoring fans and uncritical critics were to peer behind the curtain and spy such a sight, they’d probably find a way to describe their own fleecing as powerful and inspirational, and dash to buy yet more tour tickets.