While it’s no surprise that we’re big Taylor Swift fans in this household, something about this newest album release felt different. On the eve of the drop, anticipation ran high. Some of us drifted off to sleep with visions of glitter, feathers, and showgirls twirling in our minds. Others fueled up on caffeine, determined to stay awake until the clock struck twelve. And when it did—on October 3—we were ready for it. But this time, I chose sleep. The next morning, headphones in hand, I pressed play as soon as I woke up—and almost immediately, I felt something shift. Taylor’s music has always been deeply relatable—that’s never been in question. The Life of a Showgirl follows the forever-endearing The Tortured Poets Department, an album I adored with every ounce of my being. That record proved what so many of us already knew: Taylor is a poet at large. Naturally, expectations for this new album were sky-high. The Life of a Showgirl promised to peel back the curtain—to reveal life beyond ...
A reflective, human look at modern culture — exploring art, emotion, and everyday survival
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