Taylor Swift, for all the liberal boilerplate she utters in public, projects an image of young womanhood that is profoundly traditional.
Commentary
Let’s be honest: Taylor Swift is no conservative. From her endorsement of Democrat Joe Biden in his 2020 presidential race to her romance with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce of the now-irritatingly woke National Football League, the 34-year-old billionairess singer-songwriter can drive the right flank of the political spectrum crazy.
But it would be a mistake for conservatives to write her off. Taylor Swift, for all the liberal boilerplate she utters in public, projects an image of young womanhood that is profoundly traditional. She is the first female pop megastar in decades to embrace unabashed femininity, ur-American fun, such as cheering for her boyfriend on the football field, and genuine taste and class in her self-presentation. And women—from Gen Z teenagers to their Boomer grandmothers—resonate with all of this.
Ms. Swift’s live “Eras Tour,” which just wound up in Melbourne, Australia, generated an estimated $2.2 billion
in ticket sales (setting an
all-time record) in North America alone, plus billions more in travel spending at the concerts’ locales. She ranked as Spotify’s
most-streamed artist in 2023.
A majority—52 percent—of Ms. Swift’s
diehard fans are female, almost 75 percent are white, and in line with
women’s voting patterns in general, 55 percent of them identify as Democrats. Her adult fans (18 and older) skew heavily Millennial (45 percent), as might be expected. But what’s fascinating is that 44 percent are in their mid-40s and beyond. Taylor Swift has astounding inter-generational appeal. She also has astounding Middle-American appeal—55 percent of her fans live in the suburbs, in contrast to urban and rural areas.
Why so? For starters, Taylor Swift doesn’t sport neon-hued hair and necklaces forged from chain-link fencing like Billie Eilish. Nor does she pose in bosom-baring bikinis and bodysuits like Shakira and Rihanna. Or go over-the-top come-hither like Beyoncé. She doesn’t drape herself in black leather like Lady Gaga—or, even worse, drape herself in raw meat like Lady Gaga. Taylor Swift eschews the bizarre and the grotesque. Her hair is always a natural color. Her makeup is restrained and conventional (even that signature red lipstick that matches her Kansas City sweatshirts on game days is more retro-1950s than garish-1990s). She displays no visible tattoos and no body piercings. No blingy jewelry. Even her stage costumes are modest: mostly
glittery versions of 1950s bathing suits, or elegant
fairy-tale ball gowns with sumptuous skirts.
Offstage, she’s a fashion icon in a female world starved of fashion after years of COVID-19 isolation and work-from-home sweatpants. A website,
Taylor Swift Style, maintained by Canadian fashion writer Sarah Chapelle (who has also authored a forthcoming book with that title), tracks on an almost daily basis, along with companion X and Instagram accounts, nearly every item of clothing and every piece of jewelry and footwear that Ms. Swift gets photographed wearing. Ms. Chapelle also provides links that inform readers who can’t afford couture prices where to find cheap knockoffs. And once Ms. Swift puts on one of those items—a dress, a handbag, a pair of earrings—a phenomenon that one designer has dubbed the “
the Taylor Swift effect” takes place: The item sells out within hours. Photographed at Chiefs games, Ms. Swift has single-handedly turned the varsity letterman jacket and other sports styles into
must-have attire. Women want to look like, and maybe be, Taylor Swift.
Ms. Swift obviously has great fashion sense, but she offers something more: a look that is sexy and attractive but also tasteful and refined. Even when she is wearing something casual—denim shorts and a T-shirt, or a miniskirt and lug-sole boots—she looks carefully put-together, with understated accessories and a simple hairstyle that complements the outfit. She projects wholesomeness, a sophisticated version of the girl next door—the girl a guy might ask out on a formal date instead of a hangout session, and maybe, ultimately, marry and make the mother of his children.
Such girls—modeling traditional femininity and traditional class—are in short supply these days. The media tell women at every turn that they should be
girlbosses striding around the office barking orders while wearing razor-creased pantsuits. Or they should emphasize their “sex-positivity” by adorning themselves like prostitutes. Or go “
gender neutral” and hide all evidence of their womanliness in baggy, shapeless garments. Or, worst, not bother to get dressed at all: pajamas and slippers with maybe a coat thrown over them for walking the dog and picking up the kids from school.
It’s clear that women crave instead what they see in, and hear from, Taylor Swift, just as they
flocked after COVID-19 to 2023’s “Barbie,” which allowed its overwhelmingly female viewers to revel in ultra-feminine Margot Robbie’s pretty clothes and colorful home furnishings. Taylor Swift is tall—5 feet, 11 inches—but she nestles at breaks in games in the strong, protective arms of 6-foot-5-inch Kelce. Onstage she sings mostly about breakup heartbreak and unrequited love, romantic themes that have entranced women since human beings began writing songs. It’s not surprising that women, the socially sensitive sex, stuck by themselves at home for years in the pandemic, and also in the general digital isolation that the lethal combination of work-from-home and tyrannical social media has imposed on them, have wanted to get out and enjoy themselves with their friends while basking in their womanhood.
It’s likely that Taylor Swift’s liberal politics won’t shift to the right, nor will the politics of most of her fans. But there’s always the chance that the femininity she projects will rouse their desire for a different kind of womanhood than the sterile ones society blasts at them from every corner.
Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.
