It is, quite literally, the end of an era. Pop sensation Taylor Swift is wrapping up her Eras Tour this weekend with a final show in Vancouver, Canada. The tour was nothing short of a phenomenon, earning more than $1 billion in revenue and attended by fans all over the world, many of whom jumped on airplanes to go see Swift thousands of miles away from home. When the tour wraps on Sunday, Swift will have played 149 shows, performing for several hours at each of them.
Clearly, she’s earned a break.
This was about more than one 34-year-old from Wyomissing, Pennsylvania; this was a cultural moment.
But the impact of this record-setting musical juggernaut will live on. This was about more than one 34-year-old from Wyomissing, Pennsylvania; this was a cultural moment. It was an economic force. It even shaped American politics. As Americans trudge through an already chaotic start to Donald Trump’s second White House residency, the end of the Eras Tour feels depressingly appropriate: a last hurrah, the last time things felt uncomplicatedly fun.
This tour really did have everything. Cameos from a football star boyfriend. Royal children. A foiled terror attack. It invigorated cities’ economies, selling out hotels and flights. The Swifties’ penchant for friendship bracelets created a run on beads.
But for all of its headlines, the real power of the Eras Tour had everything to do with the girls and women (and boys and men, too) who came. Mothers and fathers brought their daughters. Young women came in mini-mobs. Multiple fans reportedly went into labor during performances.
Swift is not a creative visionary in the vein of Beyoncé; she doesn’t have a Mariah Carey voice or Jennifer Lopez dance moves or Lady Gaga inventiveness. She is the pumpkin spice latte of pop stars.
But those things are really, really popular.
In 2023, her concerts combined with the “Barbie” movie to create one summerlong celebration. And the two felt apiece.
They — Swift and PSLs — are culturally coded as Basic Girl Things. They aren’t exactly unique, but they are ubiquitous. And where young women might have once hidden their affection for things a misogynist society deemed cringe, today the love for Taylor Swift is unabashed and unashamed and very, very girlie. In 2023, her concerts combined with the “Barbie” movie to create one summerlong celebration. And the two felt apiece: Both took long-standing relics of girlhood — the beautiful blonde pop star, the Barbie doll — and reshaped them as more feminist modern versions, keeping the fun bits, excising the sexism, and perhaps most importantly, asserting that Girl Culture is pop culture, and Girl Stuff is good.
Swift’s genius as a lyricist is in turning big emotions into catchy ballads, allowing and empowering girls (and a lot of boys and adults) to feel seen in all of their many feelings and experiences. She sings about love and heartbreak, vulnerability and self-assuredness, friendship and fun. In her words, girls get to try on different ways to feel and inhabit the world — which is exactly how adolescence feels. Swift isn’t trying too hard to be cool, but she’s definitely not trying to be aloof. She transparently works extremely hard. She tries to be nice and decent. She’s the kind of pop star both children and parents can see themselves in.
Swift is also a remarkably powerful woman. The space she gives girls for their many feelings is a mirror of the space she’s carved out for herself. Yes, she sings about breakups and boys; she’s also dedicated to her own girl crew, makes gobs of money, and struts around massive stages with great confidence. It’s not a brand-new model of feminine power and expression, but it’s a profoundly resonant one.
But, alas, Swift is not all-powerful. After Trump’s running mate (and now vice president-elect) JD Vance insulted childless cat ladies, Swift leaned into her persona as the nation’s most prominent kid-free feline aficionado. She posted arch photos with her cats. After much speculation, she publicly endorsed Kamala Harris. For a brief moment, even I wondered if the Swifties would turn out to their polling places en masse to drown out the podcast bros and belligerent young men flocking to Trump. That did not happen. And Trump won. Our president-elect is a man who appointed the judges who ended legal abortion across America. He’s a man held liable by a jury for sexual abuse. He’s a man who has tapped multiple people accused of sexual misconduct to serve in his Cabinet. His campaign was the polar opposite of a Taylor Swift concert: No friendship bracelets, lots of mixed martial arts. And even though the margins were narrow, his victory does feel uncomfortably like a national pivot back toward the culture of disaffected men — and a rejection of the kind of guileless girl culture Swift’s tour embodied. One era ends, as a second Trump era begins. But even though Swifties will no longer be filling stadiums, they are still everywhere: in schools and workplaces and homes across the U.S. They are working on political campaigns and, yes, have even been elected. Going to a Taylor Swift concert isn’t necessarily a political act. But being surrounded by other girls and young women in an inclusive, expansive space where no feeling is too big and no experience of girlhood is too awkward, and where female power can coexist with female vulnerability? Where being a girl is still fun? That’s what Swift leaves behind — and that era doesn’t have to end.
Jill Filipovic
Jill Filipovic is a journalist and the author of "OK Boomer, Let's Talk: How My Generation Got Left Behind" and "The H-Spot: The Feminist Pursuit of Happiness." 
