Taylor Swift comes to France with her Eras Tour, and our writer David Mouriquand pops his Swift concert cherry in Lyon. He walks you through his day, his gig, his thoughts, his photos, and whether or not this experience has transformed him into a card-carrying Swiftie. The Swiftiness starts earlier than I’d anticipated.
On my way to work, three young women in the metro are discussing their day plans. They’d been to her first gig in Lyon last night and had woken up alarmingly early, from what I overheard of their conversation. Their plan was to sleuth out where TayTay was staying and camp outside the hotel, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the superstar on her way to the second concert tonight.
Good luck to them, as that must be one of the closest guarded secrets in France right now. Still, I don’t intervene to tell them they’d be better off going to the Institut Lumière - the birthplace of cinema – instead. Time better spent, sure, but who am I to shatter their sweet if stalkerish aspirations? I’m at the office and my colleagues are starting to trickle in.
“Excited for the big night?” I share that I’m actually feeling a bit underprepared, and that imposter syndrome is starting to kick in. I enjoy Swift’s songs and I’m thrilled to be going – but having seen the sort of infatuation and dedication that Swift commands, I’m a pilgrim in an unholy land here. “You must be the only person in France right now who has a ticket for Taylor Swift and isn’t.
