TELL ME A TAYLOR SWIFT STORY

Jenny, I’ll lead with the disclosure: yes, I am a huge Swiftie. An unlikely Swiftie, maybe (though as a group, we’re not as easily profiled as you’d think.) I was a 30 year-old divorcee when “Love Story” dominated the charts in 2008, and I had absolutely no reason to relate to a southern-fried teenage fairytale. And yet. I could not stop playing the song and screaming along to that key change in that final chorus. I couldn’t relate to Taylor’s princess aesthetic or her coltish naiveté but I could totally vibe with her yearnings and delusions. Taylor made music for love addicts long before she became aware that she was one, too. When you’re 19, you can have a new soulmate every six months without worrying if you’re co-dependent or “monkey-branching” or anxiously attached or whatever. (Those worries can wait until your Midnights era.)

I met Taylor Swift in 2011. She was interested in acting at that time, per her reps, and was circling a few movie projects. We were at the same agency so our respective teams arranged for us to meet for breakfast. At this point she was already a huge star but had not yet attained permanent icon status. (I’d argue that the release of 1989 in 2014 was the moment where she became “mononym famous” à la Dolly, Mariah and Celine.) However, even then, I was very aware that having a one-on-one breakfast with Taylor Swift was a big deal. Especially for someone like me, who’d gotten even more obsessed with her music since the release of Speak Now. I was a new mom, and I couldn’t listen to “Enchanted” without crying because it reminded me of the day Marcello was born. (I still can’t! I just got teary-eyed writing that sentence!)

We met at the Regent Beverly Wilshire (which must, by law, be referred to as the “Reg Bev Wil” because of Pretty Woman.) I had been under the impression that Taylor was like six feet tall, but she’s not. She’s 5’9-ish, same as me, and I know this because I made her stand eye-to-eye with me and we were both in chunky loafers. She was gorgeous (duh): matte red lips, black cat-eye, miniskirt, and black knee socks. I remember thinking she must have had press or something scheduled for after our breakfast, because the look was giving camera-ready. (I know nobody gives a shit what I was wearing, but given the time period it was probably a rayon smock dress from Modcloth, paired with a hideous statement necklace.)