As I took my seat on the plane, stowing my bulging carry-on between my legs, I asked myself a question:

Does it feel real yet?

It hadn’t felt real when my friend Carys offered me the tickets at Coffee #1 in Nailsea last October. Nor had it felt real when I transferred the money to her a month later. I kept asking myself the same question—when I booked the flight to Edinburgh, when I booked the Airbnb, when I requested the time off work, when my outfit arrived in the mail. Even when Carys transferred the tickets to my Ticketmaster account two weeks before the concert began, and I could see the bar code with my own eyes, it didn’t feel real.

And yet, all the evidence was that this was really happening.

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Exploring Auld Reekie

In the row in front of us, two girls were crooning “I’m so depressed I act like it’s my birthdaaaay…” as they shared wired earphones. I looked around the aircraft cabin and realized a lot of the passengers resembled us in various ways. The din of excited muttering subsided as the lead flight attendant took to the intercom. He looked to be in his fifties and had this reassuring Scottish accent that put you in mind of a wise old uncle.

“Apparently there’s a concert or something in Edinburgh this weekend, so we’ll do our best to get you there swiftly.”

The whole plane started clapping and cheering.

“I’ll see if I’ve got anymore one-liners, but at the moment my mind’s just a…Blank Space…”

The cheering intensified.

“We’re expecting to get you there in 55 minutes, but I reckon we can do it faster than that…maybe in 22?”

The man tried not to betray a self-satisfied smirk as the cabin filled with applause.

Does it feel real yet?

Not quite. The plane took to the sky, my ears started to ache like crazy, and before I knew it, we were already making our descent. As we dropped out of the clouds, Edinburgh came into view on our left-hand side. It was a bright morning and we could see Arthur’s Seat, the old town, and the castle quite clearly. We continued in a crescent arc around the city, passing over Inchkeith Island in the Firth of Forth, and I squinted down at the Gothic streets below.

It was strange to know that she was down there somewhere. What was she doing? It was 10:30am. Maybe she wakes up late after performing the night the before? It would make sense. You’d be on a crazy adrenaline high—and no doubt starving to boot—after performing a show like that. You wouldn’t be able to go straight to sleep.

I’d never been to Scotland before. The furthest north I’d ever been was Hadrian’s Wall (which, contrary to popular belief, is actually located entirely within modern-day England). The first thing that struck me about Scotland was how much greenery there was, even in its capital. We’d just come up from London, which is so vast that you never have a sense of where it begins and where it ends—concrete, glass, and brick seem to extend infinitely in all directions. With Edinburgh, however, you could see the entirety of the city quite clearly—whether you’re looking down from a plane window or a castle turret. In London, you can’t imagine a time when the streets you’re walking on were once hills and trees and grass. Nothing seems to exist naturally. Whereas in Edinburgh, every street and structure seems to coexist naturally with the landscape. You get a sense that the city is a part of the land, rather than something that’s replaced it. The natural contours are preserved. Whenever you observe the city from one of its highpoints (of which there are many), you can see the rolling green escarpments that surround it, blending naturally into the hills of the city. Across the estuary, we could clearly see green wilderness—seemingly untouched by civilization—expanding northward toward the highlands.

I was traveling with my friends Minako and Robin, of whom only Minako had visited Edinburgh before. We stayed at an Airbnb in Liberton—a quiet residential neighborhood about a 20-minute drive from the old town. However, we didn’t spend any time there, other than when we slept. Our entire weekend was spent in the old town—a steep hill of labyrinthine alleyways and gothic facades, of nettles curling out of iron fences and long shadows on hidden stairways. Towering, crooked tenements carved of Craigleith sandstone formed a uniform, darkly beautiful skyline. Chapels pocked with gargoyles overlooked narrow streets and squares paved with cobblestone. Everything exists on a vertical axis—there’s no moving across; you’re only ever going up or down. Take a turn onto a deserted, angular wynd and you’re suddenly presented with a clear view of the estuary and the green hills beyond.

There are no chains, only independent stores and historic pubs. No bright lights or screens. No place is trying to stand out or assert itself against its surroundings—everything feels subservient to the atmosphere. The effect is that every time you stop somewhere, you feel like it’s something you’ve stumbled across by chance and discovered just for yourself.

It didn’t just feel different to London, but from the rest of the United Kingdom as a whole (or at least, my limited experience of it). I’ve never felt this kind of atmosphere in Cardiff, Bristol, or Oxford (no disrespect to those places). Edinburgh felt like something out of a storybook; not a real place. Not somewhere ordinary people actually lived. The whole time we were there, we kept saying that we felt like we were in a different country, somewhere in mainland Europe even. In many ways, the best thing about Edinburgh isn’t a specific attraction or experience, but simply exploring the old town.

Unsurprisingly, the city was absolutely packed with tourists that weekend—something that only heightened our excitement. I’m not sure we saw a single local. The likes of Cockburn Street overflowed with groups of people in t-shirts that read “A LOT GOING ON AT THE MOMENT”, “BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM”, and “PLAYERS GONNA PLAY”. No café, no city tour, no gift shop was unattended by people in pink cowboy hats, sequined dresses, or Kansas City Chiefs attire. There were fans of every age and every gender, from a myriad of different places. We heard more American accents than Scottish ones.

Does it feel real yet?

The unprecedented busyness that had taken over the city made getting a table at a restaurant quite challenging—especially since we only wanted to eat at places that served traditional Scottish cuisine. We realized early on in our trip that we’d have to book ahead, rather than stroll around and dine spontaneously. Luckily, we were able to find some incredible restaurants—and we only ate Scottish food the whole time we were there. We tried haggis and cullen skink, and ate our weight in fresh seafood. In fact, I’m pretty sure I had mussels every day of the trip. Our favorite restaurants included The Doric Tavern, The Whiski Rooms, The Mussel & Steak Bar, Brewhemia, and Cask Smugglers. Minako feel in love with Tennent’s Lager and I spilled Irn Bru down my favorite sweater. We also tried the famous deep-fried Mars bars from a local chippy in the old town called The Clamshell. The food was absolutely one of the best things about our trip.

In truth, we weren’t there too long—so we had to cram a lot of things into our weekend. We saw Edinburgh Castle, Carlton Hill, and Holyrood Park—all of which offered breathtaking views of the city and its surrounding landscape. Of the three, I’d say Holyrood Park was my favorite. In fact, I’d say it was my favorite place in Edinburgh overall. We made our ascent from the south-west, reaching a cleft between Arthur’s Seat and Salisbury Crags. In front of us, the hillside gradually sloped down toward the docks, the long grass rippling in the wind with the smoothness of running water. To our left, a sheer basalt cliffside faced the old town. To our right, gorse and wildflowers marked the volcanic bluffs. In the distance, we could see lights blinking from industrial cranes at the Leith dry docks.

Between the lovely vistas, our trip was filled with side quests. I got a signed first edition hardback copy of Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors at Topping & Company, Robin took us to a Halloween-themed pub she’d found on Tik Tok, and Minako reconnected with a relative she hadn’t seen in years at a local café. I picked up some shortbread for the office, Minako stocked up on honey-infused Scotch whisky, and Robin bought a cuddly toy of a Highland cow she named Heather.

The weather was mostly sunny, but there were a few clouds. I didn’t want it to rain for obvious reasons, but I had a feeling that Edinburgh would look atmospheric on a rainy night. Or a snowy one. The dark wynds had a lot of macabre potential—and this seemed to be reflected by the number of haunted tours and spooky attractions on offer. Robin is a big horror fan, so we signed ourselves up for a haunted tour of the South Bridge Vaults. Our guide, Diva, gave us an overview of the old town’s dark history—outlining various gruesome methods of capital punishment and showing us an array of torture instruments before taking us down to the vaults themselves. Just when it seemed that the old town couldn’t have held more secret passages and clandestine spaces, we discovered that it was just as intricately mazelike underground as it was above. The vaults are a series of damp, lightless subterranean chambers built into the arches of the South Bridge. The city’s homeless would sleep in almost pitch darkness down there, amidst a suffocating stench of stale waste, with many chambers used for illegal gambling, occult practices, body snatching, and more than a few good old-fashioned murders.

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Making Our Way to Murrayfield

The concert was on Sunday, June 9^th. Night 3. It seemed impossible that after all this time, it was finally here. That it was no longer a vague idea of the future, but something that was suddenly underway—something I’d be late for if I didn’t get my ass out the door. I found Robin listening to the set list as she applied glitter to her face and collarbone. My jaw dropped. She looked incredible, rocking a sparkly silver two-piece outfit with tassels, her blonde hair in curls. I was dressed in a Travis Kelce jersey and jeans, with fake studs in my ears. I called us an Uber and we said goodbye to Minako, who was going to catch-up on some work while we were gone.

The gates at Murrayfield opened at 4pm, and we didn’t leave our Airbnb until 4:20pm. I honestly didn’t know how long it would take to get to the stadium, or how long it would take to get inside once we were there. In the car, we put on the friendship bracelets that my good friend Emily had made us. Robin had two bracelets that read “Midnights” and “Love Story”, and I had three bracelets that read “Hits Different”, “Delicate”, and “Fuck the Patriarchy”. As we approached the old town, I got a message from Emily saying “The second-hand excitement is real!!”, as well as a message from Carys saying “I hope you have the best time!”.

Does it feel real yet?

With every passing minute, things felt more real. No taxis would go anywhere near the stadium, so our plan was to get the tram from Princes Street. The Uber dropped us off by the Royal Scottish Academy and we joined the massive queue for the tram. Stewards in high-vis jackets were positioned at various points to control the crowd and ensure that pedestrians had enough room to cross the street. It was about 5pm at this point, which meant that the stadium was already filling with people and we had an hour until Paramore began the hour-long opener. We weren’t worried though—an hour felt like it would be plenty of time. Our tickets were standing, but we weren’t fussed about getting right next to the stage.

A gang of local teenage boys crossed Princes Street, grinning at the excited crowd. One of them, unable to fight the intrusive thoughts, stopped in the middle of the road to waggle his hips and yell “Shake it off! Shake it off!”.

What an absolute legend, I thought. It took me back to my school days, when you would just do goofy things on instinct to please an audience. Damn the consequences. Even if it was embarrassing, it was always worth it if you made people laugh.

We were in the queue for a long time. The trams came every 10 minutes or so, but some of them would be full when they reached us. I was stood next to an older American guy who was seeing off his daughter, who looked to be in her thirties.

“That’s a proper jersey right there,” the man said to me.

“You guys from Kansas City?” I asked him.

“Aha, no—we’re from Florida,” he said. “But we follow the whole football thing.”

When a tram finally arrived that had room for us, the man hollered after his daughter, “Stick with big Travis there.”

It was a tight squeeze, but the ride to Murrayfield didn’t take long. The good thing about arriving late is that it took no time to get inside the stadium itself. We walked without stopping from the tram station to the security checkpoint. They scanned our tickets and that was it—we were in. The tickets worked. It seemed like nothing could feasibly go wrong at this point.

Does it feel real yet?

The security checkpoint isn’t the entrance to the stadium itself, the way you scan tickets at a turnstile during football matches. Instead, the last security check gives you access to the grounds surrounding the stadium, which are packed with all kinds of stalls. There were tequila bars, ice cream parlors, pizzerias, chippies, sandwich shops, burger vans, wine stands, you name it. Every type of food and drink seemed to be catered for. There were also official merch stores, but they had massive queues. It felt like being at a fair or something.

By the time we got there it was 5:50pm—not bad really. We weren’t hungry, on account of eating a late lunch as our main meal of the day. However, we did get ourselves a couple ice cream sundaes before entering the stadium itself.

There were a few other guys in Travis Kelce jerseys, and as we waited for our ice cream, I spotted a guy in a Mahomes jersey. I pointed this out to Robin, who asked, “Oh—does that mean he’s a rival?”

Far from it, I told her! Mahomes and Kelce are one of the best offensive partnerships in NFL history. I wanted to get a picture with the guy in the Mahomes jersey, but he was in the distance, way out of earshot, and had fully disappeared by the time we got our sundaes.

As expected, most of the floor inside the stadium was already packed when we got there. We got as close as we could, and then proceeded to edge our way forward as the evening went on. The good thing was that throughout the concert, people were constantly heading back—to get drinks, to get food, to use the bog, whatever—and as they moved past us, we would fill the vacant space, everyone gradually shuffling forward. Paramore took the stage at 6pm and by the time they’d finished an hour later, we had traveled quite far from where we’d started. The sound tent and left-side crane were no longer obstructing our view of the stage, which was nice. Robin couldn’t see the stage too well, and I realized just how big an advantage I had being 6”4. It really does help.

Time went on and we kept shuffling forward. I wasn’t overly familiar with Paramore prior to the concert, but they were incredible! I especially liked that one song about still being into someone. After they left, it was unclear how long it would take for the main event to begin. We kept checking the time on our phones.

“How long now?” Robin asked.

“Apparently she starts anytime from 7pm to 7:15pm, though it varies show by show.”

Each minute seemed to last an hour. We adjusted our body weight from foot to foot, waiting for the screen to change.

“Look out for a giant clock,” I said.

Just then, a section of the fans close to the left side of the stage started screaming.

“She’s here…” I whispered.

Does it feel real yet?

“They’ve spotted the cleaning cart. That’s what that noise was about!”

Things were starting to feel very, very real. I wondered what could possibly happen now to prevent this from happening. Tactical nuclear strike?

Then the screen changed, and a giant clock came into view.

“Oh god, here we go!”

Does it feel real yet?

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The Greatest Show on Earth

It was starting to feel pretty fucking real, I tell you that. One by one, the dancers took the stage—each with giant, billowing pastel tapestries fanning upward from their backs. Once they took to the center of the diamond, they turned to face each other and the tapestries blew inward like closing flower petals to form a bulb shape. It kinda reminded me of Malenia’s Scarlet Rot from Elden Ring, if you’ll excuse the reference.

Does it feel real yet?

We waited for a few more, agonizing seconds, before the tapestries burst outward, and up rose a platform from the center of the blossom. And on that platform, was her.

Now it feels real.

It was quite surreal seeing her in the flesh. I know that might sound strange on the surface—and obviously I know on a rational level that she’s just as human as the rest of us—but I think feeling caught off-guard is a natural byproduct of seeing entertainers in the flesh. We’re so used to seeing actors, singers, athletes, et cetera on a digital screen. They exist in the realm of hyper-reality, and our relationship with them is no different, functionally, from our relationship to fictional characters. Media, in all its forms, carries with it a sense of unreality. It’s why we refer to seeing our friends in-person as “seeing them IRL”, even though chatting to them via video call is no less real. The point is that it feels less real.

There she was, belting out “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince” in a sparkling bodysuit, as real as the other 70,000 people around me.

Blondie. The music industry. Taylor motherfuckin’ Swift.

Looking at her on the big screen didn’t feel surreal though—I was used to seeing her on screens and this was just another one. I tried to focus on looking at Taylor herself, rather than the screen, just to appreciate the novelty of getting to see her in-person. But it was useful to refer to the screen when she occupied a part of the stage that wasn’t very visible to us. I took a lot of photos and videos, but I also tried to just live in the moment as much as possible.

In front of me, there was a guy that seemed to be trying to film as much of the concert as possible on his phone. I watched as he took a 10-minute video, stopped the recording, then immediately started filming a new one. Later in the evening, his right arm was so tired that he was holding it up with his left arm, cushioning his right elbow in his left palm. You might as well just watch the film version at that point, I thought. But maybe he was using the footage for a project. I was taking little clips here and there for an Instagram reel myself.

The phones also served a practical purpose. Robin, though by no means short, struggled to see the stage. And so she was able to use the phones of people standing in front of us as impromptu periscopes to keep up with the action.

We didn’t run into any major issues throughout the evening. Neither of us wore earplugs. I saw some people recommending them, but I don’t see why. It wasn’t too loud—noise was a complete non-issue for us. As for standing—while our calves did ache from being on foot for so long, it didn’t bother us that much. You just kinda put up with it.

The crowd weren’t really an issue either. Everyone seemed nice and considerate. We wondered whether the people carrying beers and chili-cheese dogs as they squeezed past us toward the stage really had people waiting for them there, or if they were sneaking to the front under the guise of being on their way back. Either way, it didn’t affect us. There was one moment where a woman forced her way through a gap that wasn’t really there, and the person she brushed past confronted her for a brief moment. But it was fine, she said sorry as she continued forward and the other woman just rolled her eyes.

The best thing about being in the standing area was that there were no children. I’d heard some people complain about screeching little shits drowning out the show, but I think that must only be an issue for those in seated areas. Everyone in the standing section was singing, but none of it drowned out Taylor’s voice.

It did rain briefly, so technically we were a rain show. But it didn’t last too long. The biggest challenge for Robin was the cold. It was quite chilly in Edinburgh once the sun started to go down, and Robin had a lot more skin exposed that I did. It didn’t affect me too much, as I had this knitted vest on beneath my Kelce jersey. My main issue was hunger—I overestimated the power of the late lunch strategy.

Neither of us went to the toilet. Robin sort of needed to go halfway through, but not so badly that she went. The queues for the bog were massive and there are no breaks during the concert, so if you leave for any reason, you’re bound to miss something. Neither of us have seen Taylor in concert before and we’re not due to go to any other of her shows, so we wanted to bask in the novelty as much as possible.

The transition between each era was seamless. Either Paul Sidoti would shred for a while as Taylor disappeared to get changed, or the dancers would put together something that ended with Taylor reemerging in a new outfit at the end. The production was absolutely insane. The dancers, backup singers, and musicians didn’t miss a beat. The choreography, costumes, and theatrics were really creative and flawlessly executed too. There was always something interesting happening aside from the music—my favorite being the moment Taylor dives into the stage. You could tell so much thought had gone into making it as inventive and visually interesting as possible.

Taylor is known, above all else, for her songwriting skills—but the Eras Tour really highlights just how gifted she is as a showman. All eyes in the stadium are on her all the time, and every little thing she does—every pose, every step, every expression—is striking in some way. She’s performing with her whole body every second. I think that’s what impressed me most—she’s done this concert over 100 times now, and she’s still able to make it feel special each time. It’s like she’s fully cognizant of the fact that for us, it’s unique—even though for her, it’s one of many. I really respect people that can do that—like tour guides that are still able to be funny each time. Taylor, as well as her dancers and singers, acted like they were so excited to perform for us, even though they must know the words and steps unconsciously at this point.

One of the ways Taylor is able to make each show special is through her surprise songs, which I think is such a brilliant idea. We got an acoustic mashup of “It’s Nice to Have a Friend” and “Dorothea”, followed by a piano mashup of “Haunted” and “Exile”. They weren’t songs I was familiar with, so I admit I didn’t have much reaction to them. But I’ve listened to them since the concert and really like “Haunted” now. I still don’t much care for the two acoustic songs unfortunately. My dream surprise songs would have been any of “Holy Ground”, “Hits Different”, “You’re on Your Own Kid”, “State of Grace”, “Getaway Car”, “New Romantics”, or “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve”. But I knew those were pretty unlikely to feature. I got the feeling that “Haunted” was quite nostalgic for a lot of people, because that one got a huge reaction from the crowd.

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Dissecting the Eras Tour

My favorite songs from the night were “Enchanted”, “Bad Blood”, and “All Too Well”. It’s hard to pick an absolute favorite between them. “Enchanted” was the song I was most excited for, and I think it’s one of the best concert songs—if not the best concert song—in her discography. It’s damn near religious to experience live with everyone singing along. “Bad Blood” is a great song and one of my favorites anyway, but I ended up appreciating it even more that night because of the flame cannons. Aside from being a nice spectacle, they also warmed us up immensely. As for “All Too Well”, I often say that’s my favorite Taylor song in her discography, but it’s not one that I was especially excited to see live. There are some songs where I prefer the live/concert versions, and some where I prefer the studio versions. I’d always thought of “All Too Well” as belonging to the latter category, more a song to listen to while doing the dishes than experience live. But it was really fun! I think part of the reason I enjoyed it so much was that I discovered I knew every word and proved myself able to sing along for 10 minutes.

1989 was the era I was most looking forward to. It definitely feels like Taylor’s best album, pound-for-pound. There are so many bangers—many of which didn’t even make the set list. I’d say Red is Taylor’s most iconic album—for me it encapsulates her so well. Even the people that hate Taylor’s work or simply aren’t very familiar with it probably think of Red when they think about her. It’s raw, it’s messy, it’s emotive. It mixes genres and it covers themes of heartbreak and the volatility of young love. In contrast, 1989 feels more polished, more refined—it’s probably her best-produced album and her most popular. The upbeat pop hits make for great concert songs.

Folklore and Evermore are a superb one-two punch that showcase the best of Taylor’s songwriting and storytelling capabilities; I like them more to listen to on my own than in a concert setting though. I’m not really the biggest fan of Lover, and I’m not sure who is actually, but it’s got some nice songs nonetheless. I’d actually say that “Cruel Summer” is the song that’s most iconic to the Eras Tour. You see it featured a lot in the marketing, and it’s right at the beginning of the set list so it’s probably quite memorable for a lot of people. It definitely feels like the Eras Tour allowed “Cruel Summer” to finally have its moment, after it somehow wasn’t released as a single when Lover came out.

I’d say “Karma” feels like the second-most iconic song from the tour. It’s the final song on the set list and honestly I can’t imagine anything else to end the show with. It’s perfect. When Midnights released, I didn’t really care for “Karma” that much. But ever since videos of Taylor performing it at the Eras Tour first surfaced online, I’ve grown to appreciate it. It’s so fun to dance to in a live setting. I recently hit up Swiftoggedon in London with my friends Rae and Emily, and “Karma” was easily my favorite song from the night!

I think there’s a song for everyone on each of Taylor’s albums, and the Eras Tour is a great way to showcase that. Robin’s favorite song on the night was “Style” and her favorite eras were 1989 and Midnights. As for me, I think the eras I enjoyed most that night were Red and 1989. Even though I’m not the biggest fan of The Tortured Poets Department, I thought the choreography and design for that era was incredible. How they were able to put that together in such short time and seamlessly slot it into the set list is genuinely very impressive.

I was thinking, afterward, how I’d change the set list if it were up to me. Obviously, everyone’s ideal set list is going to reflect their personal tastes, so I just want to acknowledge that before anyone curses my family. To begin, I’d definitely put “Our Song” in with the Fearless era. That to me is a no-brainer; the concert is specifically styled as being a journey through all her musical eras, and you can see Debut represented in the fantastic silhouette grid that serves as the Eras Tour’s main design piece. It’s not that I love “Our Song” especially, it’s just that it’s the most popular song from her first album and I think every album should be represented by at least one song.

I’d also put “Long Live” back in the Speak Now era where it belongs, as it’s such a good concert song. To make room for this and “Our Song”, I think there’s ample opportunity to amputate a couple of the more bloated eras. My first thought is “Mastermind” from Midnights. It’s an alright song, but I wouldn’t say it’s got the raw emotive power that makes it suited to being performed live. I get why the more recent albums have more songs—they’ve never had tours before—but ultimately the theme of this tour is to provide an overview of musical eras, so it should be slightly more even. I’d prune “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” from TTPD as well. That would still leave Midnights and TTPD with 6 songs each, respectively.

I’m hesitant to suggest cutting anything from the Folklore-Evermore era, and not just because I think some of you will post dogshit through my letterbox. Even though it’s the longest era at 8 songs, it’s two albums merged into one. It begins strongly with the likes of “cardigan”, “champagne problems”, and “august”, and it ends strongly with “willow”, but there’s a bit of a slump with “illicit affairs”, “my tears ricochet”, and “Marjorie”, which are quite slow. This kinda reflects my tastes, as I like live songs to be infused with a sense of adrenaline. Maybe we could cut 1-2 of those, let’s say “illicit affairs” and “Marjorie”, and put “the last great american dynasty” back in. Now that right there’s a banger. It’s Taylor’s storytelling genius at its peak, and removing it in the first place was downright criminal in my opinion!

What about you? What songs do you think should have been added to the set list—and what would you remove to make room for them? Let me know in the comments. Deciding on the set list couldn’t have been an easy task for Taylor and her team. I’d love to have been a fly-on-the-wall during those conversations. The show is already insanely long.

It really is something special, and I definitely felt like I’d witnessed something truly historic that night in Edinburgh. This is the bestselling concert in music history, and it’s not even close to the end of its run yet. One question that fans have been asking is: what the hell comes next? A few people have commented that the Eras Tour feels like a farewell of some kind, and I can see what they mean. Obviously, Taylor will keep making music, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she slows things down after she wraps up the tour in Canada this December. I can definitely see her taking a long break, making fewer public appearances, and releasing music less frequently. As we established, she’s just as human as the rest of us, and she must be absolutely exhausted right now.

Ultimately, she doesn’t exist just to entertain us—she has to take care of herself and those close to her too. She’s said multiple times how much she enjoys simple pleasures, like reading and baking, so I imagine she must miss that sense of normalcy and privacy.

I definitely don’t think there will be an Eras Tour Part Two, and I don’t think there should be one either. Some people are assuming that just because this tour spans many eras, that all subsequent tours will too. But I don’t think that would be a good idea. Firstly, it would just feel like an imitation of the Eras Tour and lack the same impact. Secondly, there would be even more songs and albums by the time another tour is up for consideration—meaning that you’d have to condense the set list even more. Her body of work would just be too large to accommodate everything, and she’s already pushing herself to her physical limits as it is. Thirdly, I think another career-spanning overview tour would retrospectively demystify the Eras Tour. I’m thinking about the future archives here, about legacy. The fact that the Eras Tour covers multiple musical eras is what makes it special—it should stay unique to that tour.

I think if she were to do another tour like this one, then it should be a few decades from now, when she’s in her fifties or something. For now, I think Taylor should go back to doing tours themed around specific albums. Now that she’s in her thirties, I can absolutely see the Eras Tour being a kind of swansong for her early career—giving thanks to her fans for supporting her through multiple eras of genres and tabloid abuse. I think she’s moving into a new phase of her career and that the Eras Tour is a farewell to everything that’s come before it.

I was hesitant to leave during the “Karma” fireworks, but I was starving and Robin was shivering cold. Confetti obscured the night sky, Taylor thanked the crowd, and we had to turn away. The novelty of seeing her in person was over and she’d go back to being a digital image on a screen, mythical in nature.

Robin and I bolted for the nearest merch store, which had no queues at that time as crowds flowed out from the stadium. They were out of stock for some items but I was able to get a t-shirt and a sweater, and Robin got a hoodie which she immediately scrambled into. Next up was food—we each got ourselves a box of chips, before finally heading back to the station. It took a lot longer to get out of Murrayfield than it had to get in it, I tell ya that. We spent a long time queuing for the tram. As we waited on the platform, an automated voice from a nearby loudspeaker would periodically say things like “The next tram will be here in 10 minutes to get you home in Style,” and “We don’t want there to be any Bad Blood, so please be mindful of those around you”.

Once we got back to the old town, it was more or less midnight. Edinburgh looked deserted, except for all the Swifties traveling home obviously. But there were no pubs or bars open, no locals enjoying a night out. It was strange. It took us ages to get an Uber, as most of the taxis were busy. There was a chippy whose sign read “Closed”, but we tried our luck anyway and went inside. The man said that most things, like deep-fried Mars bars, he couldn’t do. It was too late. I just asked for some chips and he said that was okay. I was still very hungry.

Even though I was shattered, I didn’t go straight to sleep when I got back to the Airbnb. For a while I simply lay there. Mentally I was still inside Murrayfield, Robin bouncing next to me, squinting at Taylor doing the “Karma” spin through a blizzard of falling confetti.