Let’s just get it out there. I love Taylor Swift. I love her style, I love her voice, I love her songs, I love all the men that she dates, I am officially a Swiftie. (As a 25 year old woman, this may not be particularly cool or street to announce, but then when have I ever been cool or street?)
Only yesterday did I update my Twitter re: this whole “Haylor”/”Tarry” relationship saga (or whatever the hell Harry Styles + Taylor Swift’s names combined equals). The latest rumours doing the rounds were that Taylor’s dad had allegedly warned young lothario Harry not to break his daughters heart. While part of me inside was rooting for some kind of happily ever after in this romance, or even a little bit of longevity, the other part of me sneakily thought..
“I can’t wait to hear the song she writes about ole Heartbreaker Hazza”
And now today, reports are surfacing that after an “explosive row”, the pair have ended their much talked about whirlwind romance with Harry flying off to party with Richard Branson and Taylor going home alone (“the girl in the dress cried the whole way home, I should have known”).
Taylor has then added further fuel to the fire by breaking her New Year Twitter silence by doing that girl/MSN days thing of posting a cryptic lyric (only difference is that Taylor’s was from a song that she’d actually written – “I Knew You Were Trouble”…)
OH HARRY. You heartbreaker.
And so another multi platinum selling album is born.
This little Nashville sweetheart has forged an entire career out of falling head over heels in love with guys after locking eyes with him at a party, has had her heart broken by some of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood (and Britain) and probably broken her fair share of hearts in the process. All of this while pouting those ruby reds, rocking some vintage tea dresses and raking in all those lovely royalties.
With the usual show of commentors from the UK tabloid website commentors, Taylor gets ripped to shreds for “airing her dirty laundry in public” and apparently hopping from one brief fling to the next… my response? She’s a 20 year old girl.
Yes, she’s an international mega star, she’s selling millions of albums, but take all that away and what are you left with? Just a girl. (standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her).
At her age, most girls are experiencing exactly the same things when it comes to the male of the species. Crushes, mixed signals, heartbreak, betrayal… I could go on. Given the amount of times I’ve fallen for undesireable boys in impossible situations, if I’d been given a guitar, a notepad and the ability to string together a song with a catchy chorus I’d have written a Taylor Swift style album 10 times over, and I think thats what sells and is what is incredibly endearing about Taylor. Her songs and completely relateable, she’s the girl next door, she’s you, she’s me. Her songs are universally understood and (without being lame) “speak” to young girls because there’s going to be at least one track that feels like it was written by you about your current boy situation.
Dear John – the boy who your mum warned you about, whose board game you lived in, who broke your heart but who eventually you worked out to be up to no good.
“so I took your matches before fire could catch me, so don’t look now. I’m shining like fireworks over your sad empty town.”
Enchanted – the boy you’ve only just met that you’re infatuated with, who you can’t wait to see again.
“I’m wonderstruck blushing all the way home, I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew… I was enchanted to meet you”
Picture to Burn – the boy who plays you and acts like you meant nothing to him, but you figure revenge is a b!tch.
“so go and tell your friends that I’m ‘obsessive’ and ‘crazy’, that’s fine I’ll tell mine you’re gay”
Begin Again – the boy who loves the you that you love and makes you believe in love after a relationship that tainted your view of what love could really be like.
“I’ve been spending the last 8 months, thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end, but on a Wednesday in a cafe I watch it begin again”
….and if she happens to makes millions of dollars from doing the same thing that most 20 year old girls do, write songs about it and subtly naming and shaming the men who do her wrong – then I say faster pussycat, sing, sing.