Smack bang in the thick of the Melbourne lockdown and a global pandemic, Taylor Swift dropped a little present in all our ear holes in the form of a brand new shiny album. Named Folklore, the surprise album is adorned with wholesome forest imagery and stuffed to the brim with songs that are better suited to a Wisconsin camping ground sing-a-long than a sold out stadium.
You know what this means: Taylor Swift has reinvented herself once again.
And while this is bloody exciting news for her fans who have been itching for more music, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable about it.
Watch the trailer for Taylor Swift's Miss Americana Netflix documentary. Post continues below.
Yes, Folklore does seem like a bit of a return to form for Taylor, with its beautiful storytelling lyrics and country-folk vibes, but this is the eighth studio album from the singer and also the eighth rebrand of the human woman. And I need to talk about that.
Back in the day I was foolish for associating drastic image reinvention only to Disney stars who were coming of age and breaking free from their contractual obligations. Yes, I’m looking directly at you Miley Cyrus. But on reflection, it’s a much more widespread trend.
Historically, female artists have been on a roster of transformation, keeping up a persona for a handful of years before tossing in the towel on that style and reinventing themselves from top to bottom.
Don’t agree? Just have a think of a few of the big players in the music scene and go through their body of work.
Or, alternatively, let me do it for you.
Christina hit the scene with her all bubble-pop-crop-top greatness before getting all diiiiiirty in chaps for her Stripped album and then polished it off with a slicked-back rockabilly-robot vibe for Bionic.