So many of us dream of achieving something meaningful in life—a career change, a new car, or the perfect relationship. For me, one of those dreams might come as a surprise: seeing Taylor Swift in concert.
It may seem like a simple goal, but for me, it’s far more than just an experience.
I’ve been a die-hard Swiftie since I was a little girl, sitting by the family computer watching the Love Story music video on repeat. Over the years, Taylor’s music became my soundtrack, her lyrics my comfort through every heartbreak and triumph. She wasn’t just an artist; she felt like a friend.
I promised myself I’d see her live someday, but with every tour, something got in the way—until the Eras Tour was announced in 2023. Like thousands of fans, I tried endlessly to get tickets, signing up for multiple emails as a “Verified Fan” and rallying family members to help. But none of us made the cut.
Resale prices skyrocketed into the thousands, and the dream started slipping out of reach.
That is, until a twist of fate. My boyfriend had a work trip to Malta the same summer Taylor was performing in Europe. Resale tickets for her shows overseas were rumored to drop closer to the date, and flights within Europe weren’t too pricey. The stars seemed to align.
After weeks of tracking ticket prices, I finally snagged one for her Vienna, Austria show. I was over the moon, ready to travel solo to a new city just to see my favorite artist. I planned every detail: friendship bracelets, Lover-inspired nails, and a sequined skirt that sparkled like the dreams I’d been carrying for years.
But then, the unthinkable happened.
The night before the concert, news broke of a terrorism threat targeting the show. Authorities had intervened, preventing what could have been a devastating tragedy. While relief and gratitude filled my heart, another part of me shattered. My once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Taylor was gone in an instant.
On top of the disappointment, I had to figure out what to do. My flight was in nine hours, and my accommodations were non-refundable. Should I still go?
Ultimately, I decided to face my fear and make the most of the trip.
Vienna, though not what I’d envisioned, became a surprising highlight of my Euro summer. I explored St. Stephen’s Cathedral, sipped coffee in the city’s famous cafés, and connected with other Taylor fans who had also traveled from around the world. In a show of resilience and sisterhood, the streets of Vienna were alive with Swifties trading friendship bracelets and singing her songs. What could’ve been a sad trip turned into a celebration of girlhood and community.
Despite everything, I was glad I went.
By fall, I had come to terms with the idea that seeing Taylor Swift live was just never going to happen. Her six Toronto shows in November were just around the corner, but resale prices were astronomically high, and rumors of last-minute tickets at face value felt more like myths than reality.
Still, I couldn’t let go of hope entirely. I followed fan accounts on Twitter that tracked Ticketmaster drops and clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, I’d get lucky.
A week before the Toronto shows, on November 4, queues finally opened. By sheer chance, I checked Ticketmaster at the perfect time—even before the fan accounts announced it. My heart raced as I hit “join queue,” a flicker of hope in my chest.
Then came the dreaded message: “Only a select number of fans have access to this sale. Your account does not have access.”
Disappointment settled in. I texted my best friend Mia, encouraging her to try her account. She got the same rejection.
Just as I was about to give up for the night, my phone rang. Mia’s brother—of all people—had access to the queue.
The next 40 minutes were a whirlwind of anticipation, nerves, and adrenaline. As we watched him navigate the queue, tickets kept disappearing from his cart, leaving us on the edge of panic. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, he secured two tickets.
Tears, screams, and endless gratitude followed. It still didn’t feel real, and a small voice in the back of my mind whispered that something might go wrong. But this time, nothing did.
Mia and I immediately dove into planning. I paid homage to Lover with a sparkly outfit, a nod to my Vienna trip, while Mia channeled Reputation with a bedazzled jean jacket. We made way too many friendship bracelets and worked on every detail of our concert looks.
When the day finally arrived, I was overwhelmed with excitement. But it wasn’t until the opening notes of Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince filled the Rogers Centre that it truly hit me. Taylor Swift was there, right in front of me, and I was finally living the dream I’d carried for so long.
The night was everything I’d imagined and more—singing at the top of my lungs, dancing without a care, and sharing the moment with my best friend. It felt serendipitous, like everything I had endured over the summer and in Vienna had led to this perfect, unforgettable evening.
Seeing Taylor Swift live wasn’t just about the music. It was about the journey, the resilience, and the connections forged along the way. Her concerts are more than shows; they’re celebrations of girlhood in its purest form.
Taylor’s music has always made me feel seen, validated, and heard. And now, after all these years, I can finally say I’ve been part of the magic.
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