Courtesy of Nick Sonderup
"I'm not spoiling my children; I'm making deposits of joy," that's what I recited to myself silently as I clicked on four tickets for Taylor Swift's one-night-only Eras Tour appearance in Cardiff, Wales.
These were the most affordable tickets of her entire European leg, but compared to the four figures that tickets are going for in Miami and New Orleans this fall, they seemed almost reasonable. It's no secret that Taylor Swift and the Eras Tour is boosting tourism numbers around the world, selling out hotels, and spurring airlines to add new flights. For us, it was the best family vacation ever.
The Swiftie Era started in our house when our then 11-year-old twin girls came home from two weeks at sleepaway camp last summer, confirmed Taylor Swift fans. But it really tipped over into a frenzy when they heard one of their friend's parents had bought tickets as a birthday present to see the Eras Tour in Liverpool this June.
My husband and I explained it was not a thing we could do. Tickets were prohibitively expensive, and we were already planning a family summer vacation in Southern California.
Then, all of a sudden, a trickle became a flood — three friends were going to Paris, another to Amsterdam. Then, one night, one twin was prostrate on the couch crying after she found out one of her BFFs was going to see Taylor in Madrid. We gave her the same speech — buying tickets for hundreds of dollars and flying to Europe for a concert is just not something this family could do.
Growing up, I was fortunate to have everything I needed, but we couldn't afford everything I wanted. I remembered things I had wanted ferociously as a child that would have seemed inconsequential to my parents. Like an expensive navy blazer with gold buttons that my tween brain thought would make me feel popular in the 8th grade. I cried, I begged, but my father said no. I also remembered when a parent made a wish come true. I was obsessed with horses and my mother got me riding lessons at a local stable where I eventually worked.
With those memories still engrained in my adult brain, I told my husband I wanted to make this happen. We ran the numbers, and our planned summer vacation to California — flights, renting a car, an Airbnb or a hotel, Disneyland — would cost the same or more as four tickets to see Taylor Swift in Wales and staying a few days with friends in London. Somehow, a staunch no turned into a yes.
A couple of weeks later, we surprised our twin tweens with the most ear-splittingly joyous gift ever for their 12th birthday. We called them into the living room and told them we couldn't plan a big birthday party this year and would have to do something else instead. We slipped them each an envelope, and as they unfolded a card that said, "Pack your bags, we're headed to see the Eras Tour," their mouths dropped open as they screamed and leaped into our arms. One sobbed for half an hour.
In the run-up to the concert, our apartment turned into a bead bracelet factory, and we were dress shopping up until the day before our flight.
But the moment we stepped off the train in Cardiff amid a throng of other Swifties pulling their rollie bags to various city center hotels, the girls simply shone. They were in their element, surrounded by their fellow fans, who were decked out in spangles, sequins, and cowboy boots.
Courtesy of Nick Sonderup
We also said yes to dressing up and threw ourselves into it as a family. The girls put on their "13" temporary tattoos and created hearts around their eyes with stick-on rhinestones and pearls. They made us paper crowns and me a Miss Americana sash, while my husband wore a T-shirt emblazoned with "Heartbreak Prince." In the stadium, we saw numerous middle-aged men bedecked in "Proud Swiftie Dad" pins and hats.
For the next three and a half hours, they sang every song and waved their arms. The girls got the royal treatment from fellow fans who came over to trade bracelets and coo over their outfits. When the girls learned that the Cardiff local sitting next to me didn't know the bracelets were a thing, they insisted on giving her four or five of their own, slipping them onto her bare wrist.
And then it was over, but we saw Taylor walk from behind the stage and give a special wave. One twin turned to me and said, "This is the greatest night of my life," while the other more darkly said, "We have nothing left to live for." As for me, I have never had more fun at a concert.
I don't know what her magic is, but Taylor Swift is an effortless, tireless performer who emanates an effervescence of her own. Every time I turned to look at the girls, their eyes were gleaming, and their smiles were wide from ear to ear. The lightness I felt witnessing their pure, unfiltered joy was immense.
We didn't give up a family vacation for a concert; in fact, it was the best decision we could have made for our family this summer. We have stories now of how we managed when our train from Paddington Station was canceled, how we caught the last boat down to Cardiff harbor and rode on the big Ferris wheel, and how the girls tried Welsh rarebit for the first time. We'll hold onto that golden glow of joy and memory. I'm banking on it.
