I chose to dress as Reputation Era because that’s the album I listened to on repeat the first time I fell in love. The critical runt of Taylor’s catalog has an outsized mythos in my memory, and it also happens to be the closest to metal that her look ever got, so that’s the one I wanted to emulate in costume on Friday, October 13th, for the release night of The Eras Tour film.
I went with colleagues from my new job, where I’ve been for six weeks. As with most swifties, there was no explanation needed: we were going to see the first showing on the IMAX screen, dressed as different eras. I’ve had cursory conversations with all but one of this group and yet we were all on the same page. Chanisara (Lover Era) made us all friendship bracelets.
We were more dressed up than most, but engagement was signaled elsewhere: tour t-shirts, homemade t-shirts, and an abundance of friendship bracelets. By the end of the night I’d acquired four. With none to trade, German teens told me it was totally fine, and I should just pick one from their bedangled wrists to take home. A local newspaper asked my group to stand in front of the large film poster for a picture. We each shelled out €20 for a metal popcorn holder and plastic cup – popcorn which I ended up dumping, untouched, in the trash when the film was over.
I’ve seen clips of the tour from cellphones all summer. I’ve seen every outfit. I know the setlist. But seeing it in a movie theater immediately put the tone in a different place. We weren’t watching it on our phones, in fact we didn’t even have our phones. What were we going to do – take a picture of the screen? (A few tried, before giving up.)
The brilliance of The Eras Tour film is that it is three hours of participatory song and dance that is untethered from the need to prove attendance. You can’t take a great shot – the director’s already found the best. You can’t capture an unexpected viral moment from Taylor on stage. The footage is set, and the songs aren’t a surprise. The only thing you can do is watch, and sing, and dance. The only thing you can do is be present.
By “You Belong With Me,” my Fearless Era colleague Inga and I couldn’t take it anymore. We ran to the front row, where we wouldn’t be blocking anyone’s view, and danced. Then came “Love Story,” and we were followed by a wave of eight-to-ten year old girls, holding hands in daisy chains in front of the screen, laughing and singing.
The next Era was Evermore, and this is where the production value became indulgent. It was spooky. It was theatrical. Taylor was less of a tentpole and more of a ring leader, taking us through the stories. It was less “encounter me” and more “encounter this.”
We spent the film going up and down the aisle, singing from our seats for the quieter sets and dancing during the bangers. During Red Era, those us of dancing moved away from the aisles and began to take up more space in front of the screen. By the time Taylor began “22,” we had swarmed the entire pit in front of the screen. The momentum built for “We Are Never Getting Back Together.”
The high moved right into catharsis with “All Too Well,” Taylor’s ten minute manifesto on the validity of Big Feelings. We trickled back to our seats. I’ve never been a fan of the song, and regularly skipped it on the album when it first came out. The extended version, however, paints an entire story of love that’s both specific and universal (which is, of course, the basis of her success overall) that’s so unusually long for pop music that it gives the listener space to breathe, and daydream, and, once again, be present. I began to cry, which turned into a full-on weep.
We spent the Folklore Era seated, invited into the stories swirling on stage. The main dancer for “The Last Great American Dynasty” (Natalie Ried) was, refreshingly, a woman in her thirties who looked both fabulous and like she’s in her thirties. This is when I began to notice that Taylor’s backup dancers aren’t teen starlets. They look like they’re her (my) age.
Then came the 1989 Era with the opening guitar riff of “Style,” and people began to once again spill into the aisles. When the first breakout hit that put Taylor into the center of crossover pop stardom “Shake It Off” began, the entire theater exploded. Moms looked at each other and headed down to the dancefloor. Hesitant dads finally stood up. Obliging friends in street clothes bought in. Most of the crowd in this theater were German native speakers, far more comfortable singing the chorus of songs than the complicated wordplay of the verses. But “Shake it off” is phonetically perfect for group participation.
The theater was filled with small stories playing out over three hours. The woman next to me had clearly booked three seats to sit unencumbered by herself, staring at the screen. She never stood or sang along, but she leaned forward, enraptured. Three girls who looked to be about thirteen danced next to us, one in hijab. She didn’t seem to know the songs as well as the other two, but they insisted on holding her hands and bringing her with them for the upbeat songs. There was a couple in the second row, one man losing his mind to every song and his partner politely indulging. A family sat in the row in front of us with a son dressed as Lover Era, complete with a sparkling heart around his eye. Halfway through, he finally got the courage to run down and dance by himself.
I kept thinking, what a gift. There was no pressure to experience it in a particular way. We can all see it again tomorrow. It didn’t have the stakes of something ephemeral, like a live concert, and because of that, the need to document it evaporated. We were able to be fully present to the entire film without the pressure of a once-in-a-lifetime event. Perhaps this is the role of a concert film in the TikTok era: We’re seeing it through a lens, so we don’t need ours.
I’m frequently asked by non-swiftie friends about her appeal, and after a decade of musing on it, I’m convinced it’s the fact that she’s just not that cool, and she’s absolutely fine with that. Her music is cringe and on the nose. She’s the antithesis of alternative. Saying, “I like Taylor Swift” does nothing for anyone’s mystique. Which means that she gives us permission to delight in the uncool: daydreams, falling in love, hanging out with friends, getting really excited about… anything. Most of all, she lets feminine energy have power. Big Feelings are okay. Disproportionate disappointment is okay. There is an excitement and wonder in life’s minutae. We can dwell on moments and look at them from all angles, breaking them apart to see how they feel.
She said it herself. “The worst kind of person is someone who makes someone feel bad, dumb, or stupid for, like, being excited about something. I don’t think you should ever have to apologize for your excitement.”
The Eras Tour isn’t about her. It’s about us. And it’s a blast.