Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl”: Unapologetic Joy Displayed on a Marquee  

By Libby Alred

Taylor Swift’s latest release, “The Life of a Showgirl,” is a bold departure from the run she has had in recent years. Since the release of the album “Folklore” in July of 2020 and its sister album “Evermore” in December 2020, the poeticism and gut-wrenching relatability of her lyrics became a wider conversation, even among those who had not previously dubbed themselves Swifties.  

Her last release, “The Tortured Poets Department,” had many up crying at 2 a.m., questioning if they’d ever find love. “The Life of a Showgirl” comes onto the scene with glitter, feathers, and diamonds to remind us that love exists and you should never apologize for trading onyx nights for opalite skies. Swift certainly isn’t. 

     While it is a simpler album compared to her past few projects, happiness is often expressed in simpler terms than the complexities that come with heartbreak. She has also collaborated with Max Martin and Shellback on this record, who were the masterminds (pun intended) behind her quintessential fan favorite comeback album “Reputation.” 

 The record’s sound is reminiscent of 2010’s pop and makes one want to get up and dance. Taylor is out with the auroras and sad prose of releases like “Folklore,” “Evermore,” and “The Tortured Poets Department.”  

She is in love, at the peak of her career, and she is reveling in a joy akin to, as Swift writes in a poem accompanying the record, “the tiny bubbles in champagne.”  Now, I understand that the rest of the world may not be here for it, but I am here for it.  

  We are used to gut-wrenching lyrics and cathartic poeticism, and many have not been receptive to it because they are used to something different. The album isn’t “relatable,” for most, especially in the college student demographic. Its non-relatability though is what makes it so powerful. “The Life of a Showgirl” is an album I can put on, dance around in my dorm room, and remember that sometimes sitting with your sadness doesn’t always pay. It’s okay if we’re not quite all in our showgirl eras yet, but we’ll never get there if we stay in our “Folklore” cabins, “Evermore” woods, or our monochrome typewriters straight from “The Tortured Poets Department.” It takes time, but diamonds form under pressure and best believe we’re still bejeweled.  

    A few of the songs on this album have the running narrative that showgirls are not born; they are made. The one I want to touch on is “Eldest Daughter,” my favorite on the album. Many have dubbed it “cringy”, but I would argue that it’s supposed to be. Sappy, sickly-sweet and soft, like the way someone becomes when they’re in love, especially after years of being afraid you won’t find it.  

Taylor sings in the first verse, “I’ve been dying just from trying to seem cool,” then highlights this phrase by using slang in the chorus. “But I’m not a bad b****,/and this isn’t savage/but I’m never gonna let you down/I’m never gonna leave you out.”  

Swift is saying that when you’ve waited for a love that stays for so long, it’s not savage, it’s not a power move, it’s a soft awakening of all the bright colors you’ve been keeping in your heart that makes you feel like a child again, especially when you had to grow up so fast, as is the experience of many eldest daughters. 

   This album is teaching me every day how to soften for the better and revel in my own simple joy. “The Life of a Showgirl” can be frightening and rapturous, but it can also be beautiful, and true showgirls make it so.  

The Fall of a Showgirl: A Taylor Swift Album Review  

By Madison Smith, Managing editor of content and Calliope Moore, Podcast editor 

Taylor Swift is a pop culture juggernaut, and there is no dispute with that claim.   

For the last 15 years, she has not only occupied the cultural zeitgeist but has demanded and controlled it.  

Coming off the economic boom that was the Eras Tour, Swift announced her twelfth studio album “The Life of a Showgirl” and immediately controlled the entirety of social media.  

The first pitfall of this album comes from the marketing. The initial cover features Swift in a sparkling burlesque ensemble while being submerged sensually in a bathtub with the cutout of the album title sprinkled around her in orange glittery font.  

She followed this announcement with a variation of differing album covers all fitting the same “showgirl” burlesque aesthetic.   

With this marketing approach, many fans expected the album to discuss the behind-the-scenes narrative of the Eras Tour and showcase the darker side of being a performer in the public eye. While also taking a more poetic “Broadway baby” sonic structure to the music.  

This could not be further from what the album ultimately ended up being.  

Initially, every track on the album came across as a “skip.” Still, out of respect for journalistic integrity, the album received several more listens before a genuine review was formed. 

The First half of the album is arguably digestible. 

Starting off with “The Fate of Ophelia” Swift made a bold attempt to once again use literary inspiration for a new single; however, this track missed the mark. 

While being arguably one of the strongest songs sonically, with very cohesive production and a very catchy chorus, this song does encapsulate a lot of the greater issues with the album. Taylor Swift has long been praised for her poetic lyricism and allusions to other venerable works, but “The Fate of Ophelia” feels so close to hitting the mark it hurts.  

Swift’s use of whimsical, fairytale imagery does not mesh well with the “modern” slang she tries to slip into her songs. Swift has, in the past, done justice to the literary women she’s portrayed, however her expression of Ophelia is downright laughable. 

While the song shouldn’t be taken too seriously, the entire treatment of Ophelia as a character and symbol feels like Swift trying to connect with her audience that still clings to the idea of her delicate poeticism. Even still, Swift squashes any care she has given to these literary works by grievously misunderstanding the entire point of Ophelia’s character to simply use her as nothing more than a forgotten allusion, so Swift’s lyrics feel more “deep” than they truly are. 

A track that stands out positively within this album is “Opalite.” This track harkens back to Swift’s prime “pop” era. Featuring a catchy ear worm that can undoubtedly get stuck in your head without even realizing it. 

While the lyrics are a bit contrived, the sound is almost infectious and cannot help but make the listener feel good. 

The worst track on the album goes to none other than “Wood.” Not only does it shamelessly crib the melody of the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back,” but it also manages to be a lyrical catastrophe.  

The song plays like a thinly veiled allegory for Taylor’s romantic escapades with fiancé Travis Kelce, because apparently, subtlety didn’t make the final track list. While the song might have been saved by leaning into more unserious or “campy” themes, it tends to feel a lot more awkward. 

The title track, “The Life of a Showgirl” (feat. Sabrina Carpenter), manages to leave everything, and then some, to be desired. 

Once again, this album feels completely detached from the marketing campaign that was supposed to define it.  

This song tells the story of a die-hard fan idolizing a showgirl, only to be cautioned that life in the spotlight isn’t nearly as glamorous as it seems.  

It’s an interesting premise, but the execution falls flat, leaving the listener unsure whether the track is meant to critique fame or romanticize it. 

And while Sabrina Carpenter brings her usual charm and vocal polish to the feature, it isn’t enough to save the track. Her talent feels wasted here, as she’s pulled into a muddled concept that never lives up to its potential.  

Rather than elevating the album, her presence only highlights how underdeveloped the rest of the project feels; she didn’t deserve to be dragged down by a song that can’t decide what it wants to be. 

In the end, “The Life of a Showgirl” feels less like a grand performance and more like a dress rehearsal that never quite makes it to opening night. For an artist who once turned heartbreak into high art, this record is surprisingly hollow.  

All glitter, no glamour. Swift may still control the spotlight, but this time, it feels like the lights are dimming.