I went to The Eras Tour, and it was one of the best nights of my life.
In preparation for our night, my mom and I threw on makeup and our coordinating “Lover” outfits in our hotel room while debating what the surprise songs were going to be. She straightened my hair, we took photos on my digital camera, and then we left, embraced in the raw and consuming excitement of seeing your favorite celebrity.
Upon arriving at Sofi Stadium, I was absorbed in observing everything that was going on. Little girls dressed in tutus and sequins, and it seemed like some of them were about to burst with excitement. Other girls stood before the stage, posing for pictures while making “hearts” in the air by joining their hands. Everywhere I looked, people were joyful. Strangers traded friendship bracelets, exchanging their favorite songs and complimenting each others’ style.
During the concert, I became friends with the family next to me, dancing to “You Need to Calm Down” and especially belting while Taylor played, “We Are Never Getting Back Together” – their eight year old’s favorite. I got to hear the songs that used to come on the radio in my Dad’s old jeep; the songs that dominated my weird middle-school phases; and the songs that have come to mean a lot to me as a young woman. I was adorned with love and acceptance by the strangers who also related to Taylor’s music. What a special, unifying experience this was.
In 2015, my mom took me to the 1989 Tour in Detroit. At this time, she had recently been declared free of stage four colon cancer, which she fought for many years. This night marked one of my most fond memories from my childhood, given that I got to celebrate the woman most important to me. And so, when my mom surprised me with Eras tickets in August, I got to relive this moment once more in Los Angeles.
I sang “Long Live” with her, promising “this, that you’ll stand by me forever”. I cherished the space we shared, our arms touching each other. Immensely grateful to still be able to be in her space, we sang the night away.
I was uplifted and inspired by the happiness we all shared that night. It felt rejuvenating. And when the concert ended, and I returned to my normal activities, I thought to myself how sad I was for the girls who didn’t get to make these same lasting memories.
Getting Eras tickets was a nightmare in and of itself (you have probably seen Tiktoks referring to the Ticketmaster debacle as “The Great War”). For a while, I didn’t think that I was going to be able to see Taylor live. It was isolating knowing that others were experiencing something I desperately wanted for my mom and I. I understood the frustration and heartbreak of not getting a pre-sale code, of not getting into the queues, and of seeing the social media posts documenting how unique and momentous the concert was. I was reading and hearing so many stories about ridiculous Ticketmaster ticket prices – some thousands of dollars – and wondered how each show was still selling out. I questioned if the expense of tickets was creating a reality in which this unfeathered joy became associated with wealth.
But, “I had the time of my life with you”, Mom. I am so glad you stuck around for us to experience that. And at the same time, I am not sure what I should have done. I do think I was somewhat complicit in a system that made other Swifties less fortunate than I feel unlucky or undeserving of this magical experience.
So, did I make the right choice by going to the concert? Or, should I have stayed home?
What do you think?