Some short time before June 17th, 1775 (!!), a young 16 year old Benjamin Tarr sounded alarms in Rockport, Massachusetts which brought 66 men together at his house to then march to Charlestown to fight in the Battle of Bunker Hill. This is not a history lesson since I am about to woefully summarize with zero poignant detail that apparently the point of that battle was an attempt to flex on British power and get them to realize Americans would not go down without a fight. But, the reason I’m sharing this, is to flex in my own way and share that just 250 years later from this event that kicked off the American Revolution, I stayed in this very same house with two of my childhood best friends while non-stop listening to Taylor Swift’s newest album while re-living girlhood for 4 days straight and talking about turning 40 in the coming few months. Being 16 (and also 39) meant very different things to Benjamin Tarr and us – and in the not-very-long human timeline of 250 years, I continue to be blown away by human evolution and the juxtaposition of our everyday experiences, luxuries, privileges, and problems. The only march we did was to pastry shops and boutiques, and the only purpose that fueled us was a complete artful critique on our favorite artist’s recent publication. What a life.
I will never not care about date + number coincidences… June 17th is special to me and I was tickled to discover this date in history when rabbit-holing about this particular battle. My dad died on June 17th, Zizi’s original forecasted due date was June 17th, and the Battle of Bunker Hill was on June 17th so suffice it to say that Ben and I are karmically linked forever and that’s that.
The decision to stay in Rockport was the result of few manic ChatGPT volleys while I attempted to create my vision of the perfect “new album release event” with two people who I knew cared about it just as much as me, while holding true to my commitment to never again experience a Taylor Swift album release the way I had for the “Tortured Poets Department” album release. To paint that scene, it was April 2024 – I was laid up in bed late at night (hours after the actual release, finally getting a moment to listen after the demands of the day), and continued to make my way thought the first 16 songs of the album only to be so overwhelmingly shocked because 2 hours later, she released a SECOND half of the album while I frantically texted everyone who possibly cared. I was so desperate to real-time discuss the songs, the lyrics, my feelings, and thoughts on the art... and so very physically alone, in my room, at night, battling time zones and the impossible slowness of texting. While fun (and lucky) to even have a digital community that I can text these things with, I felt unbearably alone and sad about this divide on missing out on the “IRL” aspects of such an impactful artistic experience… especially one we don’t get the opportunity to have very often. When was the last time you felt completely distracted + obsessed + electric about new music? Were you 14 and laying on your floor with your headphones in and cycling between staring at the ceiling and reading the lyrics from the CD leaflet you bought at Best Buy for $19.99??
In a politically excruciating time where every news story is both heartbreaking and numbingly predictable, we must protect every drop of collective effervescence that we can, and that’s what this 4-day trip to the East Coast was really about. I’d vowed to never make these lonely mistakes again, so when “The Life of a Showgirl” was announced to debut on October 3rd 2025, I convinced my two best girl friends to promise to spend that weekend together surrounding the release. They did not disappoint in the least. Amidst government shutdowns threatening Renee’s job (and livelihood), both Haley’s dad and estranged father-in-law dying just weeks before this trip, and me experiencing my own personal depressive hell for the majority of September – the commitment to this trip was the strongest invisible string yet to keep us all going.
Collective effervescence: A fascinating concept that Haley presented her “Taylor Swift Presentation Night” topic on (yes, all Emily initiated get-togethers include themed presentations). A term coined by Émile (heh) Durkheim in 1912, it represents a “shared state of emotional intensity and unity during group rituals or experiences”. This is something that Taylor Swift consistently delivers on time and time again, on both an intimate / local scale and well as globally – and most impressively, just as intensely amongst strangers as friends.
“The Life of a Showgirl” holds big meaning for me: it’s the second (!!!) album she created while touring her most ambitious tour yet, an impossible feat in my opinion (not only creating + producing one album but two… although technically three since the first was a double album. Just… wow). In one of my favorite memories of 2024, Haley and I made a last minute decision to fly to Stockholm, Sweden to attend the Era’s Tour, and came away more in awe than ever by the strength, energy, details, and production quality of it all – only to find out (much later) that in between these tour dates, Taylor was flying back and forth to Sweden to work with producers there to obsessively complete this new album. “Tortured Poets” was my favorite body of work from Swift, and while I was excited about “Showgirl” I really had no real expectations or thoughts, just pure excitement and happiness for one of my favorite artists to be living such an inspired life that she was pouring out new art at wild velocities. “Showgirl” really is the romantic / so-cheesy-in-love antidote to the pain + misery that was the very exposed underbelly of Tortured Poets (a dark and honest writing style I much more relate to personally). I was a bit nervous that I would not relate to “Showgirl” as much, and hoped it would not so much be about “looove” but about the duality of working hard (touring + becoming a self-made billionaire) while appearing normal, unbothered, calm, collected, and focused despite going through two big relationship break-ups (and the torrential dissonance of managing all of these experiences). Like everyone else who is a fan, I see much relatability in Taylor’s story telling and re-hashing of life moments, and tend to find inspiration in my own parallels that force introspection when listening to the songs (both new and old). While the painful “stuff” is usually more my muse, I was still certain that I’d get joy from “Showgirl” in ways that continue to fuel my own possibilities for dreaming, building, and authoring stories in my own life.
It is along these lines above that I try to explain to people who “don’t understand” or think Taylor Swift music is dumb, boring, unoriginal, or whatever the latest “anti” expression du jour is running rampant on the internets. I don’t think people should be convinced, and I really don’t think everyone needs to be a “Swiftie” either, but there is a certain wish I really do have for everyone and that’s to feel this deep-down teenage type joy/freedom from the experience that (so far) I only seem to get from a Taylor Swift album release or revisiting old songs with lyrics that finally make sense. For that reason, I will still try my hand at patiently debating to anyone who doesn’t get it but is curious about it, but I draw the line at anyone who is just a hater for sport. The worst kind of trait is that desire to yuck someone else’s yum. Just, don’t.
Whether you listen to the masses on the internet or not (I managed to avoid it during the weekend and ended up being saved from the incessant drivel dripping in vitriol from the leagues of Taylor haters), one thing was so clear after listening to the album non-stop (while also engaging in several self-prescribed research prompts, critique, discussion, debate, and silly “homework assignments”)… I LOVED it, every last bit of it (with maybe 1-2 true “meh” moments), whereas (I’d later find out) the majority of the voices pushing through the algorithms absolutely hated it. I was floored by how much mean there was around it. Like… it’s a feel-good pop album? Why so serious, everyone? I only started to realize the depth and breadth of these jabs and stabs on my flight home, mainly due to a relapse back on social media from a recently self-imposed ban on my own instagram use for a few days, but I couldn’t help myself to “just check in”. After living and breathing every song for 4 solid days, I started to get curious about what the internet could be saying – and the allure of consuming other opinions became too powerful to ignore. I was disappointed to say the least, and mostly felt in response “how sad to completely miss the point”.
This realization also confirmed that not being exposed to that during the entire weekend was the best decision I’ve made in a while… and has me considering the impact of daily Instagram exposure. Maybe I’m not the infallibly smart and savvy Millenial social media user as I once thought… maybe I am contributing to the unoriginality and noise that Internet is so famous at creating, simply by joining in + logging in…? It’s been a weird month of unnecessary information exposure for me (in which I pose the question to myself daily: do I really need to know things)? As a historically obsessive, addicted information hoarder (read: someone who does not hang up when someone butt-dials me + other egregious tendencies), it’s been an extremely difficult month of questioning self in this foundational way. But I digress.
I am genuinely thrilled + satisfied however, to note that instead of focusing on alllllll that internet brain slop, this instead is what we focused on:
talking too loud at multiple restaurant dinners about probably inappropriate things, aware of only ourselves and our deep belly laughs and tasting each other’s food
reading parts of my diary out loud to two laughing friends who look at me with hearts in their eyes, reminding me of the whole point of friendship
processing the loss of our former 4th “squad” member, recognizing she would have absolutely hated this trip, while recognizing that parts of us hate her for betraying our decades long friendship with no real explanation
creating + sharing Kanye-style “Betrayal Lists” which included things from the 3 of us like:
Sun-in hair products from the late 90’s
K-Earth 101 FM radio station which used to promise “oldies” (as in 50’s and 60’s) but now plays NOT SO OLDIES (a reminder of time’s lack of mercy)
People who don’t think we’re funny
Tapioca
Microsoft Suite Online
Humidity
McDonald’s Diet Coke when it comes out flat
detailing past crushes, relationships, wierd situations we found ourselves in as young girls with dumb boys, first kisses and more
problematic themes of current relationships and cringe dating stories
spending all of brunch fussing over choosing our “Sun, Moon, and Rising” songs from the new album and having ChatGPT analyze our signs along with the songs and laughing hysterically at our personalities being completely read to filth by AI
the 4 day long album critique while we listened to every song non-stop
actually screaming during “Father Figure” while completely slack-jaw over lyrics that included previously banned words from her repertoire like “d*ck” (look at our girl growing up and taking lyrical risks)
blushing during “Wood” when she sang about very obvious sexual innuendos and yelling “Taylor!!!!!!!” while feeling like our collective little sister is growing up
crying in the theatre during the “Movie Album Release” (the 90 minute music video and lyric video debut with Taylor’s director commentary) over the lyrics in “Ruin the Friendship”, while Haley leaned over to comfort me while laughing at the ridiculousness of weeping over lyrics
driving all over the New England area for the first time… enjoying witnessing the green trees with touches of red and yellow creeping in (and making our way around parts of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine)
visiting Salem and comparing it to the underwhelming / disappointing feeling you get when visiting Solvang in California for the first time – shaking our heads at the “Disneyfication” of it all
being silly tourists and driving by the Hocus Pocus house (despite the ineffective neighborhood street barricades)
mastering the art of leisurely strolling through shops and boutiques, befriending local artists and shopping for sweaters
dedicating real energy + debate around mapping out all 12 songs of the new album to each of the 12 past albums
experiencing 4 minutes long crushes on hot East Coast dads, remarking on the differences between east coast guys and west coast guys in general
never not listening to the album and never getting sick of it
staying up until 2am every night in our cozy Benjamin Tarr living room, complete with a fake fireplace and short ceilings and creaky staircases and the occasional life-saving bug catch from Haley on my behalf
changing my flight to depart 2 hours later (even though it forced a layover in Minnesota) just to stay a bit longer in search of the perfect lobster bisque soup… only the settle for a Lobster roll (incredible, 100% worth it) and clam chowder with dill (also yum) while we stared at the Harbor, soaking up unseasonable sunshine and the last few shared laughs in person
Layover was perfect… I ended up meeting + chatting with a history professor from UCLA about his life’s regrets, relationships, and fears while managing to win a bet for $50 right before boarding which felt incredibly satisfying
thinking someone was Irish when they were really Bostonian and wanting more of the accent while never catching enough of it
determining “Lighthouse culture” as a “thing” and appreciating tasteful seaside decor while comparing to its less tasteful counterparts found in places like Florida and Hawaii
realizing local homes were upwards of $2m in this small idyllic town and being shocked about that
pretending we would uproot our lives and move here in short order, open up small Museums, pottery shops, and live a life of leisure together forever
asking Haley’s husband (at home) and daughter (in Paris for college) what they thought about the album, and both of them taking it super seriously and sharing top 3 favorites
not wanting to go home, maybe ever
talking about secrets and scandalous things we didn’t know about each other from years past
sharing that practically all dates want to be ENM and how annoying that is as true elder millennials
pure comfort being at the house in sweats lounging + laying around with the fake fireplace going and the heat up in this 300+ year old home that creaked with every slight move
inappropriate DM’s that past love’s had sent and laughing at the audacity and how our old selves reacted vs. what today self would do
creatively imagining a funeral for my 40th birthday party with sordid details, including trying to figure out who currently hates me but would eulogize me at this party (ex-boyfriends? ex-colleagues?)
presentations including Taylor themes and Haley always going twice (a tradition at this point)
sending Haley and Renee onto the ground laughing at the unexpected dark turn my presentation took (a departure from my typically wholesome presentation approach)
finding out that everyone seemed to hate the album and loving having been oblivious to that for the entirety of the weekend
I conclude with a grab-bag of various favorite lyrics (as of now), and am thankful to have been seated next to people on my flights who did not seem to mind me dancing in my seat while I continued to listen for perhaps the 100th time:
“you were dancing through the lightning strikes”
“late one night you dug me out of my grave and saved me from the fate of ophelia”
“and what a simple thought: you’re starving until you’re not”
“this is just a temporary speed bump, but failure brings you freedom”
“mistake my kindness for weakness and find your card cancelled”
❤️🔥
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.