Whether you’re a teenager of 15 or a blossoming adult at 52, hearing the pop sensation, Taylor Swift, express her love for you is undeniably moving. With her proclamation “I love you, Dublin,” echoing through the Aviva Stadium, the crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers, singing, dancing, and the lively jingling of friendship bracelets.
“Nobody does it like you, Dublin,” she voiced, and although she may churn similar phrases in different cities, the words resonated profoundly with myself and my twin teenage daughters. The adoration shared between Taylor Swift and her fanbase was made apparent, validating everything we’d heard from the committed Swiftie Army. The Eras Tour went beyond a typical concert, evolving into an intimate, love-soaked affair. Indeed, when faced with Swift’s proposal, Dublin eagerly nodded ‘yes’.
Our affection for Taylor Swift and her music dates back to when my girls were mere toddlers. I remember providing an admittedly off-key guitar accompaniment as they belted out The Best Day, Swift’s heartfelt ode to her mother, Andrea, during a school concert at the age of eight. We revelled in lively kitchen dancing sessions to the tune of Shake It Off, released in her 1989 album. And we found shared solace in her enchanting pandemic records – Folklore and Evermore. We even scouted a vinyl copy of Midnights, and dedicated considerable time to memorising the tracks on The Tortured Poets Department, the recent addition to Swift’s discography playing on the European leg of her Eras tour.
Swift’s concert was as eagerly anticipated in the household as Christmas itself. The countdown to Taylor in ‘ten more sleeps’, then ‘three more sleeps’ served testament to the excitement.
In the aftermath of the anxious scramble and privileged sensation of reserving tickets, we indulged in months of gleeful expectation. Among numerous fellow Swifties of varying ages at the Ilac Centre, I had my T-shirt customised by the charming woman in charge. The selected lyrics were from her song Nothing New, a duet with Phoebe Bridgers: “How can a person know everything at 18, but nothing at 22?” My version had the ’22’ scratched off and replaced with my age, ’52’. It combats the common misconception that her lyrics only appeal to the younger demographic. In my case, this middle-aged woman felt her teenage spirit rekindled. I haven’t experienced such mounting anticipation to witness a pop star live since watching Wham perform at the RDS, back in 1984.
Ultimately, after all the anticipation and strategising and daydreaming, we found ourselves amid 49,997 likewise like-minded, sequin-adorned, cowboy-boot donning, and custom T-shirt-clad folks. It was a novelty. We were in attendance, perched on the lower veranda of the stadium, caught in the summer breeze, witnessing Taylor Swift’s iridescent and swaying display on stage.
Although we had assigned spots, my daughters chose not to take advantage of them. In their opinion, to sit was to cheat. I, conversely, took brief pauses during the less intense songs. A few spots down, Ryan Tubridy admitted to not being an avid Taylor Swift fan – “I tend toward Paul McCartney myself” – but was seemingly taken aback by the thrilling ambience, trading exquisitely made friendship tokens with my daughters.
One read “Anti-hero.” “I have a hunch he might have picked them up at a store,” my daughter speculated, comparing them to her simpler DIY creations. Adjacent to him, young girls and their mothers timidly queued for selfies. Tubridy, perpetually known as the Toy Man to those indifferent about RTÉ’s backstage drama, was quite the attraction before the star performance.
However, the evening’s key spectacle was offered by a 34-year-old American lady, audaciously parading on the stage in a sparkling bodysuit, delivering a medley of nearly 50 of her incredible songs. “This is the best night I’ve ever had,” my daughter whispered to me within the almost-five-minute shriek fest that ensued after Champagne Problems and right before the beginning of Style.
We hollered throughout the night, how I envision I would have hollered for Macca and The Beatles had I been of the era. We hollered for Taylor. For ourselves. For the elation that poured from us during those over three hours of ecstatic celebration. We echoed every lyric of every melody. I had rehearsed the more complicated parts of You Need To Calm Down, and was chuffed when, at the crucial moment, I recalled the tongue-twisting line where Taylor reproaches internet bullies: “You just need to hold a few seats, try to mend the peace, and suppress the urge to rant about those you despise.” Brilliant!
We couldn’t contain our compulsion to shout for Taylor. Shouts of ‘never reuniting, not ever’ echoed throughout. Hollering enthusiastically over ‘this infectious rhythm’ filled the air. We vocalised about Betty, Illicit Affairs, and Sweet Nothing. We recited her profound, touching, poetic words, passing them among us like a spoken word game of catch. We enunciated for the largely female crowd spanning generations, for the unfamiliar faces in the subsequent rows, and for every person intertwined within the intangible web of the Taylorverse.
We hollered, we celebrated, and when Taylor labelled us the most enthusiastic and outstanding spectators, we were confident she was genuine. We could feel the authenticity.
There was not a single moment of dullness. No periods, tracks or routines provided opportunities for restroom escapes. On the contrary, the show was replete with dazzling moments, but as a die-hard fan, watching Taylor in a flowing dress, armed only with a guitar, performing a 10-minute rendition of All Too Well, while autumn leaves metaphorically and literally cascaded into their positions, was an ethereal experience. It’s no secret it moved me to tears.
Every second of this awe-inspiring concert was a spectacle, filled with connection, emotion, drama, narrative, amusement, and festivity. Surely, none do it quite like Taylor Swift. We were spellbound the entire journey home following an evening that is etched into our memories. We’ll never forget it. Not ever.