I couldn’t help but chuckle this morning when I saw Taylor Swift’s dramatic ‘make-under’ in the news.
Sporting mousy brown hair, a cream cable-knit jumper, and Hunter gumboots, Tay-Tay was a far cry from her superstar platinum-grunge sex bomb of late. And I think I have a pretty good idea why.
Taylor is in the initial throes of a voluntary Boyfriend Makeover.
A Boyfriend Makeover usually occurs in those frenzied first months when you’re all-out obsessed with your new partner. You know, those wobbly-kneed, tongue-tied, flushed cheeked days when all you can think about is them, and what your children are going to look like, and whether you would prefer a springtime wedding outside or something more traditional.
One side effect of falling in love is the desperate need to impress your new partner. And their flatmate. And their friends. And their family. And their pet. (Usually in that order, ranked from easiest to hardest.) And what better way to do that, than to start looking like them?
Dressing like your new boyfriend or girlfriend says to the world, LOOK AT US. Look at how PERFECT we are together. In your lovesick mind, it makes perfect sense to completely shed your old wardrobe like a snake skin, and take up a new style that matches your future husband and future father to your future children.
Sadly, this logic doesn’t quite slide with your friends and family who will probably be pretty quick to point out – in the nicest possible way – that you look like a bit of a dick. This, friends, is called the Boyfriend Makeover.
And let me say – Taylor Swift has nailed it.
Her new boyfriend is UK actor Tom Hiddleston, 35, who hails from Suffolk county in England. This week, Taylor jumped on her private jet from Nashville, Tennessee, and zoomed across the pond to meet Tom’s mum and family in his hometown. And somewhere along the way, she ditched the young, pop queen look; and transformed herself into a prim and proper lady of the manor.
Um, Tay? Where’s the black lipstick? The punk hairdo? The sparkly designer creations? I mean, she’s even dyed her hair back to a demure shade of, er, mousy brown.
Strolling through the English countryside in her wellies, headscarf, and quilted jacket alongside Mother Of The Groom, Mrs Hiddleston herself, Taylor must have been feeling very pleased with herself.
I can almost read her thoughts.
“…and the reception tent can go there, and the dance floor can go there, and I wonder if Calvin would mind DJ’ing for us? Surely he’ll be over it all by the wedding.”