There’s no doubt that Taylor Swift is currently the most famous person in America (and probably, the world). Between the steady stream of “Taylor’s Version” re-releases, a multi-year world tour that’s essentially become its own economy, and a relationship so central to culture it’s helping families bond, you’d assume anyone paying even the *smallest* amount of attention would have a firm opinion on the mega-star. But if asked, I would’ve said I didn’t have particularly strong feelings about Swift. That is, until I saw the Eras Tour in New Orleans.
While I enjoyed her music — particularly early albums — I rarely sought out songs beyond “Blank Space,” “Love Story,” and other classic radio mainstays, and long held a (I can now admit, misguided) bad taste in my mouth from the “Famous” controversy, which faded into nonchalance once that drama was revealed to be more complex than I thought. I loved some of her later hits, like “Anti-Hero” and “Karma,” but fully missed the lower key releases, and was content to just sing along to the songs I knew.
Then I had the opportunity to go to the Eras Tour, on its third and final night in New Orleans on Oct. 27. I entered the Caesars Superdome a casual fan, and left not just an aspiring Swiftie, but someone who believed — not to be too hyperbolic — that women just might save the world.
The conversion started slowly at first, as I spent the days leading up to the trip diving further into the Swift catalogue and quickly discovered a ton of new-to-me bangers. I couldn’t believe I’d been missing “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart,” “The Black Dog,” “Betty,” and so many others from my life. (You could say I was… enchanted to meet them. I’m embarrassed to say that was a new one for me, too.)
When I arrived in town a mere 40 hours before the show, I saw the ways New Orleans made itself over for weekend, and how the estimated 150,000 fans (not even counting local Swifties) changed the city’s energy in return. Storefronts and balconies up and down Bourbon Street held signs welcoming Swifties, with most selling Eras-themed offerings, and some even displaying giant decorative friendship bracelets — not unlike the even larger one displayed on the Superdome itself.
Everywhere you turned, there were groups of women trading bracelets, posing for photos, and even having dance parties in the middle of the street. Instead of avoiding cat-callers at night, my friends and I waded among fans of all ages decked out in sequins, heading to bars exclusively playing Swift’s albums.
A quick stop at a local museum led to a conversation with employees who shared their shocked delight at the positivity flooding the city. At the iconic brunch spot Brennan’s (which would host an Eras pre-party a few hours later), we sampled a full flight of drinks inspired by different songs, like the “Bad Blood” margarita blackened by activated charcoal, and the sparkling pear “Folklore” cocktail. There, an employee described the current state of the city as joyful to a degree they’d rarely seen before. Superstar-Swiftie Ryan Reynolds even took to Instagram to express his awe at the experience Swift and her fans created for the city.
When the day of the concert came, my excitement and nerves already matched those of my long-time Swiftie friends as we joined the gleeful fans lining up for free glitter makeup in our hotel’s lobby and got ready for the night.
Walking into the Superdome at first felt like any other concert — perhaps with a longer line for merch than most — but as soon as opener Gracie Abrams’ set ended and the 65,000-person crowd waited for Swift, it was clear this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Sequins shimmered under the house lights across every section, and cell phone screens glowed as people got ready to capture the moment the person Swift took the stage.
It felt like the entire stadium was holding its breath, waiting for any sign of her, and when her countdown clock began, the simultaneous screams were deafening. Suddenly, I had chills all over my body and surprised myself with a nervous laugh at the unexpected swirl of anticipation.
For the rest of the show, everyone scream-sang along, cheered when Swift pointed to their section, and laughed and swooned at her banter. Though countless people in attendance knew the setlist by heart, the beginning of every new song brought a fresh wave of excitement, and every single thing happening on the stage and its surrounding screens made it feel like fans were part of something special. Because we were.
Somewhere around the third era, I turned to my friend and said, “I think I’m Taylor Swift’s biggest fan?” And that was before the final apex of my Swiftie conversion: “All Too Well” (Taylor’s 10-minute version, obviously). Already my favorite song of hers, the feeling it brought when tens of thousands of people screamed “f*ck the patriarchy” in unison cannot be put into words. As we face a divisive election season that puts women’s rights in jeopardy, I actually felt hopeful and inspired.
The thought that kept crossing my mind as these crowd-uniting moments continued was “women are so powerful.” I could almost feel the emotion of the women and girls around me as they belted out the most relatable lyrics, and was delighted to discover different phrases and moments that seemed to be an inside joke among this massive group of strangers. This was only bolstered when I later found out that those Swifties — or rather, we — were estimated to have brought at least $200 million to the local economy in just three days.
Now that I’m home, I’ve continued to listen to the Swift songs I’ve always loved and seek out more belated favorites — “Champagne Problems,” a mood! I’ve even watched my videos from the concert multiple times trying to relive that feeling of harmonized power. I always find myself returning to the final moments of “All Too Well,” when white confetti gently floated over the crowd as Swift sang, “I still remember the first fall of snow.” It might as well have been holy water, because I was officially baptized.
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