Last autumn I saw two of Chappell’s three Midwest Princess Tour shows in Brixton (London) and the year before, I was in the crowd for Chappell’s first ever international headline show at a tiny venue in Highbury and Islington called the Garage (capacity 600). I remember walking down the road from the train station to my flat whilst trying to buy a ticket for the Garage show. I was having trouble adding two tickets to the basket but when I tried adding one, it let me and it cost £13 (what the actual fuck). I thought my partner wouldn’t mind me going alone given the show was mid week and she’d be sitting exams then. Thankfully, I was right and it seems I got the last ticket to see Chappell Naked In London! A few months later my partner and I saw Chappell for the first time together at Heaven, another tiny venue in central London.

In Paris, as the live arrangement for Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl started with the big expectant intro, the crowd roared with pure unfiltered excitement. We all waited for our first sight of Chappell, anticipation hanging thick in the Parisian air, a sea of pink cowboy hats, glitter and rain macs. As soon as I saw her, tears started streaming down my face. Those tears continued, pretty much unconsciously, throughout the entire set. The access live music has always given me to my emotions is pretty spectacular, but in recent years it’s reached new heights. I’m almost embarrassed about how much I FEEL when I go to see an artist I deeply love. And I DEEPLY love Chappell and her artistry.

When Chappell released her debut album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess on 22 September 2023, I was awaiting the special edition vinyl I had preordered and had shipped directly from her US site, because I hadn’t been able to find anywhere to preorder it in the UK. I preordered her album because I wanted to support her. At that time, Chappell had a pretty modest following and she was very much still running her own socials, regularly posting videos of her and BFF/creative director Misha Spice excitedly hyping the upcoming album and inviting us all to support her project through the important metric of preorders. I was all in! Send me that 40 something dollar special edition vinyl, plus about the same amount again in international shipping Chappell. I needed it and I wanted it. The album for me, the sales for her! We were both winning!!

I bought into Chappell as an independent artist, because I loved her music. It sounds simple when I put it like that. But in reality, it was anything but. There is a line in Chappell’s song Naked In Manhattan that goes “boys suck and girls I’ve never tried”. The first time I heard it I was like, well damn, she said it. I felt it in my bones. Grappling with my own sexuality in a profound way, Chappell’s music was like a bright glittery beacon letting me know that the feelings I’d always had for girls weren’t just okay, they were beautiful and magical and joyful and fun and real. Chappell was singing about exploring her sexuality and experiencing queer joy for the first time. Her raw honesty was so captivating. It was also incredibly affirming. Listening to Chappell reassured me that the way I felt about girls was something I could (and should!) act upon because my goodness it sounded LIKE SO MUCH FUN. Both me and my future girlfriend having a crush on Regina George… yes please! The first time I saw Chappell live Red Wine Supernova had just been released as a single. “You just told me, want me to fuck you? Baby I will cos I really want to” I screamed at the top of my lungs, not quite able to believe my luck. That was Chappell, Chappell, Chappell fucking Roan right fucking in front of me. “I heard you like magic? I got a wand and a rabbit!” every person in that crowd yell sang, queer joy filling every inch of the tiny room.

As I think back to that first Garage show, I’m curious to explore how Chappell’s artistry has developed in the two years since. I feel incredibly lucky to have had a (sadly not quite literally!) front row seat to the once in a lifetime, star is born, trajectory of Chappell Shooting Star Roan these past few years. And, since returning from Paris, I’ve wanted to record some of what I (and Chappell!) have been through ever since I first heard the glorious piano intro to Pink Pony Club back in 2020. One constant through all five of the shows I’ve been to is Chappell’s energy. She is so committed to her art and ever since that first show I have never once doubted that Chappell is a fucking star. Whether the world had recognised it or not, Chappell is special. I’ve always admired her enthusiasm and her commitment, to her songs and her artistry of course, but also to her community. Chappell built a world and a project with and for queer people and we will always love her for that!

The Midwest Princess Tour shows were queer as fuck. You’d have been hard pressed to find more than a handful of straights! Everyone I’ve ever spoken to about the Brixton shows gushes about the palpable queer joy in the crowd, and I’ve lost count of the number of folks I follow online who’ve talked about the room full of queer baddies that they were a part of. Of course as the shows have grown the crowds have expanded to include, as hilariously portrayed by many TikTok videos from genuinely flabbergasted queer fans, plenty of straight folks, some of whom don’t even know that Chappell is a lesbian (have they heard ANY of her lyrics?!) Chappell herself has done everything she can to keep celebrating and centring her queer fans and community whilst welcoming allies into her world. Most recently this has looked like the launch of the Midwest Princess Project, founded by Chappell to uplift trans youth and LGBTQ+ communities through action, care and connection. Icon!

One of the most exciting reveals during the Visions of Damsels & Other Dangerous Things Tour comes during the opening of Barracuda, the Heart song Chappell covers. There is a moment during the deliciously rowdy intro to the song when a sort of drawbridge door thing is veryyyyyy slowly lowered, revealing Chappell standing behind it, wearing her final outfit of the night. Every show has three outfits, each getting progressively smaller(!), but all tied closely together both stylistically and thematically. The Barracuda moment usually reveals Chappell leaning provocatively against one of the many fairytale turret style wall things of her set wearing what is essentially just a (very beautiful and stylised) bra and knickers. Cue: gay panic in the crowd!

Since the very first show I saw, Chappell’s outfits - part of her drag - have been a key part of her artistry. She’s been rocking a pink rhinestoned, fringe-lined bodysuit (aka pop girly uniform!) since day one. It’s been a delight watching as she’s clearly had access to a bigger styling budget (hello Genesis Webb!) and the excellent use she has put it to. In Paris we got a stunning pastel pink and turquoise butterfly look with lots of luxurious velvet and feathers! The outfits always give texture, sometimes theatre kid (hello Jester Roan in Edinburgh) and there is always an homage or a theme or a concept (the Statue of Liberty at the 2024 Gov Ball in NYC was an instant classic). I think my favourite Barracuda outfit reveal came in Reading (sigh!) when we were blessed by what the internet quickly coined Goth Chappell (there were bats involved in the first outfit of the show) and a smoking hot to go maroon and black lingerie style number for outfit number three. At this point we were freshly back home from Paris, watching the livestream at home on the couch. I was in deep mourning that our show was over and I was determined to watch every live-streamed show I could.

Watching Chappell at Reading, I was struck by her poise and confidence as she strutted down from her doorway and began to sing “so this ain’t the end, I saw you again today”. Watching the show on the telly allowed me to get a much closer up view of Chappell (thank you iplayer!) and her power and control as a performer really took centre stage. One thing I’ve learnt over my years as a fan is that Chappell Roan is very much a persona (her regular person name is Kayleigh Rose Amstutz), one that has been fortified and strengthened tenfold in the short time between the Midwest Princess Tour and the recent run of festivals for The Visions of Damsels & Other Dangerous Things Tour. The first time I saw Chappell it was very clear that she was, just a girl. An amazing, talented, show stopping girl, but all the same a real live human girl. She came across as sweet and earnest as she chatted in between songs. At the Garage she covered Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know. At Heaven it was Bad Romance by Lady Gaga (oh we were so lucky!) She was chatty as she introduced each cover, telling us a little about what the songs meant to her and there were times during both of those tiny early sets where she spoke very freely and made remarks about how she couldn’t believe she was performing in London. It felt like we got a bit of Kayleigh onstage, as well as a whole heap of Chappell. In Paris it’s all Chappell, Kayleigh is nowhere to be seen. Chappell has chatted less every time I’ve seen her and, whilst I miss catching glimpses of the girl beneath the persona, I love this for her. She deserves nothing more than to keep what she can of herself, to herself.

In Paris it takes an incredible amount of people to construct Chappell’s set. Every time I look towards the stage in the downtime between London Grammar’s set and Chappell’s there appear to be even more folk busy building and constructing and testing. The scale of the set itself is breathtaking, especially when I think back to that first show, where it was Chappell, three musicians, and a whole load of glitter! For Visions of Damsels & Other Dangerous Things Chappell has been given the resources with which to construct something physical through which to communicate her vision. And, my gosh it is something to behold! As I was making my way back to my partner after a between sets loo break, I stopped and took a minute to just watch and appreciate and marvel at the sheer magnitude of the stage being built before my eyes. Wowwwww I thought to myself, hasn’t our girl done well! It’s a strange phenomenon, the birth of a superstar, one that I’ve not been as close to before, and probably never will be again. Watching Chappell go from the Garage to a headline festival set, from a small devoted, mostly queer following to a mainstream audience and from your favourite artist’s favourite artist to (it feels like!) everyone’s favourite artist has been as exhilarating as it has been discombobulating.

At Rock en Seine a constant thought repeats itself… this is the last time I’ll be this close to Chappell. I wondered if I’d ever be able to glimpse her face, other than on a screen, again! For days after the show I felt such deep grief that it was over. It’s the worst post gig blues I’ve ever experienced. And, as I’ve tried to put my finger on why this is, I’ve realised that, it’s a bit of a perfect storm. Chappell came into my life at a very specific moment, when I was exploring and experiencing queer joy for the first time. In a way, and of course I’ll never know the details of Chappell’s timeline for sure, it felt like we were on a similar trajectory when it came to queerness - Chappell agreed that boys suck AND she’d never tried girls either! But then all of a sudden she had, and I had, and we were all singing about it.

The Midwest Princess Tour was a collective celebration of queer joy, but it was also a very individual one that felt like it was just for me. The “this is girlhood” memeification of Pink Pony Club (do not get me started on the Chainsmokers remix!!!) is so far from what the Midwest Princess Tour meant to me. The bigger (and straighter!) the crowds get the more distance I know I’m going to feel from the years where mine and Chappell’s lives felt linked somehow. Of course, I appreciate there was always a parasocial element to this feeling but, even just being in a much smaller room screaming Red Wine Supernova with a bunch of other queer folks made me feel a sense of community that it’s impossible to replicate at the scale Chappell’s project has now reached.

In Paris Chappell is magnificent. I cry and I scream and I sing my gay little heart out. I feel immense pride to be a part of the queer community. I love every single second of the set and I’m already sad that it’ll be over soon. I’m especially taken by the musical arrangements which have been elevated to such an extent the songs sound like I’m hearing them for the first time (live album when?!) The next day, I wonder for the 1000th time, whether I’ll manage to get tickets to the next tour. I really hope I do. But, no matter what happens I will telling anyone who'll listen, for the rest of my life, that I WAS THERE. I bore witness to the birth of CHAPPELL ROAN, a real life, real time, red wine fucking supernova!

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Weight loss, aesthetic goals and the never-ending pursuit of health, whether physical, mental or emotional, are the cornerstones on which the fitness industry has built itself. In spite of this, the radical fringe of fitness in which I’ve found a home in recent years, is deeply resistant to the framing of movement as a means for weight loss above all else and instead promotes an anti-diet approach. In my classes I suggest that movement can be neutral (or perhaps even joyful!) and that participants can move their bodies in a way that feels good to them in a specific moment, they do not need to follow a prescribed routine to the tee and will never be called out for a perceived lack of effort or capability.

I’ve learnt so much since I started working in movement, yet in many ways the radical fringe I am honoured to be a part of feels even more fringe. Things happen to me constantly, in the course of my movement shenanigans, that I refer to as “annoyingly diet culture-y” and there are vanishingly few classes I feel safe going to/would recommend to anyone looking for a radical fuck diets approach.

One question I often ponder is, if the instructor cares how THEY look then how can they lead a radical class? When I became an instructor in early 2020, one of the first things that happened is that I was asked to attend a photo shoot where promotional photos and content would be shot, for the purposes of my profile on the studio website and for social media. I’d be able to use the photos to essentially “advertise” my classes, as would the studio. This was the first time it occurred to me quite how much I would be required to “advertise” or essentially “sell” the spin classes I’d be facilitating and, by extension ME (or me-ee-eeeeh in Tay’s voice 🤣).

I remember that first photo shoot only for the complete terror I felt throughout. I found every moment completely excruciating. All I could think about was what the team would think of someone like me, a soft bellied and completely untoned human being, trying to teach classes. At that point I hadn’t even taught one class and was filled with my own fears and anxieties about whether I’d be able to do it at all. I didn’t know how my body would handle the physical requirements and I was as far from a fitness professional as it’s possible to get. I’d been plucked from the front row of classes I attended in my lunch break to try and shake off the STRESS of what I then called my day job (human rights lawyer) by a head trainer who saw what it would take me AT LEAST A YEAR to see myself - that I could and WOULD contribute something meaningful to the fitness world. I think pretty much every instructor who taught at the studio was there that day and the way it worked was that we’d get photos taken one by one whilst everyone else waited around, watching and offering encouragement. Everyone was kind and welcoming and lovely but inside my mind was screaming WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TRYING TO FIT IN WITH THESE PEOPLE?

I can now recognise that I had deeply internalised the diet culture messaging I have since worked every day to banish from my class. I worried that I didn’t “look fit enough” and that I’d be judged for it. On top of that, I worried that no one would ride with me because of it or that I’d be shamed (or worse, ridiculed) by the classpass reviews of riders who came to and hated my class. I wish it wasn’t the case but, a metric movement professionals cannot run from, is bloody class numbers. Something I’ve learnt since becoming an instructor (in 2020 no less) is that studios are business and numbers MATTER. In order to “succeed” and be able to keep teaching, I’d need to get bums on bikes, and it seemed photos of myself (in some capacity) would be required to help with this.

I’ve reflected often on how I felt the day of that first photo shoot. I’m proud of myself for making it though that day and every single class that first year. I was (and am) surrounded by a profession of people who (with a radical fringe of exceptions!) conform to every single body and beauty standard. The fact my body is softer, rounder, less toned is something I am genuinely so much more at peace with today than I have ever been in my life. But, being surrounded by people who just don’t have, or seem to want my softness, has been triggering AF. Working in fitness means I’m surrounded by people who look the way I spent a decade of my life trying to force my body to look (and making myself unwell in the process).

That first year was so hard. As I write this, I’m struggling to articulate exactly what I found so difficult. Because the modern fitness industry is built on diet culture its impact is insidious. It’s inescapable. It’s in the less obvious classpass review that mentions my audible breathing. It’s in the yoga class I attend on national fitness day, whilst injured and unable to spin but wanting to move in community that day, at which the instructor asked me if I “wasn’t even going to try?” when my injury prevented me from participating in a specific posture. It’s in the bodies and companies I’m surrounded by at an industry festival which the year before last (in 20-fucking-23) is sponsored by an appetite suppressant gel. Like what the actual F is this STILL… I despair.

When I’d been teaching for a year or so my (much!) younger sister studied to become a personal trainer. During her studies and into the beginning of her working with clients we had so many interesting conversations about bodies, diet culture and the concept of “fitness goals”. I was shocked to hear that (approximately) 99% of clients of all ages still signed up for PT sessions with aesthetic (predominantly weight loss) goals. I thought things had improved since my own teen-hood which, catastrophically for my own self-worth and mental health, coincided with the depths of “heroin chic”. One day, when I was teaching a Big Babe Energy ride (basically riding to a playlist of very explicitly f*** diets songs/coaching) my sister reflected on how she prefers no talk about her body at all whilst she’s working out. I’m the complete opposite, I like to (and greatly benefit from) acknowledging and extending compassion to my softness, the folds of my belly and the speed of my breath as I move my body. This practice of gratitude extends into the online space where I make a huge effort to consume images of and words from a variety of bodies which, in a roundabout way brings me back to where we started: photographs.

The fitness industry is saturated with images of bodies that uphold the diet culture status quo. In a personal sense, outside of teaching classes, I have been working for at least a decade now to root out the diet culture conditioning that insidiously set up camp in my brain from the moment I could comprehend the world around me. That first photo shoot reinforced the pillars on which the fitness industry is built, placing me into a situation in which my brain couldn’t help but regress. But, it also showed me the importance of resistance: of standing at the front of rooms reminding people that abs aren’t the be all and end all and that all bodies are deserving of love, care and respect JUST BECAUSE. That we owe no one health. And… over time I’ve been delighted to remind myself that photos of me on the bike can and do capture the immense joy I feel when I ride. And that is something worth sharing, whether to promote my classes, or otherwise.

Ending. As in, making space to begin again.

This time last year I sat in these betwixmas days mulling over potential words. I wanted to choose a single word to take with me into 2024. A word of the year. Something to help me focus. To help me plot my course. I settled on space. Thinking about how tightly wound my schedule and my brain felt, I deeply craved slowness. Time and space for me to just exist. But also, for me to make sense of certain things I was coming to terms with.

Something I’ve spent a lot of 2024 making space for are my thoughts and feeling around money. Even as I write this sentence I want to scream in disbelief. What the fuck is going on? Me, expressing that I am a person who thinks about and has feelings in relation to money and material wealth? A year ago me COULD NEVER! In December 2023 I did a very important calculation. I added up all of my credit card debt. Aged 34, this was something I’d never done before. Something I’d been terrified to properly look at for at least a decade. The total, pretty much £27k dead on, was an eye watering sum that made me want to crawl into a hole for the rest of my fucking life. I certainly didn’t want to look the figure in the eye. And I absolutely couldn’t bring myself to think about what I might actually want to do about it.

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At the time I did this staggering calculation, I was attending bi-weekly (I think this means twice a week?) therapy sessions as an outpatient of the Lewisham Personality Disorder Service. I was contorting myself to fit within the “rules” of this service which required me (and all patients) to be working a certain number of hours a week, to talk only about specific and narrowly defined topics and to not display any of the “problematic” symptoms of the illness we were supposedly being treated for. I faced queerphobia at every turn and found it impossible to advocate for myself within a service with a long history of pathologising queer folks, and which, at every opportunity displayed itself as deeply ignorant and completely lacking in knowledge or experience of queer lives. There was absolutely no way I could safely introduce the possibility that I may want to explore using gender neutral pronouns with either of my therapists, one of whom was so completely the opposite of intersectional (is there a word for that – un-intersectional doesn’t seem to cut it?) that I nicknamed him “dusty”, as in, from a previous less progressive era.

As for my job as a government lawyer, I simply could not deal with it anymore. I fantasised about any and all jobs which did not require their employees to think about the law. It didn’t matter what the actual jobs were in my increasingly desperate imaginings. What was important was the fact that my brain didn’t have to make sense of difficult concepts, didn’t have to try and put together an argument built out of principles developed by and for the powerful, to enable them to keep their power at all costs. Every attempt I’d made to seek support for my mental health at work had backfired, leaving me with the deeply uncomfortable feeling of having shared too much, for absolutely no purpose. I was completely and utterly spent. Layered on top of this deep exhaustion was the unbearable sadness I felt as, every day it became clearer to me, that the career I’d worked so hard to build was something I was going to have to let go of.

In 2024, I experienced some of the deepest and most profound depression of my life so far. The kind of darkness that leaves only hopelessness behind it. I’ve had no choice but to make space for this. I left my job as a lawyer. I stopped going to therapy (a decision that I 100 million percent know was the right one for me). Something I have learnt the hardest way is that therapy doesn’t help every mental illness. There have been countless times over the past year when I’ve sat on my couch, unable to see past the next hour or two of my day. I’ve screamed in emotional pain whilst my partner and my best friend have looked at me with fear in their eyes. We’ve watched countless movies as I’ve dissociated, trying to give myself some respite, some space, away from it all.

I also left my job at Boom Cycle in February 2024, after going through the shock of a 4th studio closure. Something that was communicated to the team with less than 24 hours’ notice, and which drastically affected my income as I was struggling to come to terms with the reality of my debt situation. There have been several moments over the past year where I have made decisions that have left me unsure as to whether I’d be able to pay my mortgage and my bills. I’ve always found a way and recognise the part privilege has had to play in this. I guess what I want to capture for my own record is the fact that, in 2024, I repeatedly made decisions in pursuit of space, both mental and physical, without knowing what the result would be. I was forced to trust that endings make way for beginnings. That, sometimes a path needs to be cleared, and space needs to be made, before it can become clear what will come next. Sitting in the unknown is, as difficult as it is for my anxious brain to accept, part of life.

When I’ve wanted things very badly, such as jobs I applied for in the aftermath of leaving the law, they haven’t worked out. As I look back on the past 12 months there are a couple of pretty huge “thank goodness I didn’t get that thing I thought I wanted very badly” moments. I’ve been forced to confront space in ways I didn’t appreciate in present time and now, looking back I feel such deep relief with how things have turned out. One particular job I got, but then immediately “un-got” because the studio in question closed, made space for one of the bravest things I’ve ever done. Ash Rides Ldn. What a relief the universe forcefully nudged me towards something so scary and made it impossible for me to do anything other than try. The space to try has proved one of the most incredible gifts of the past 12 months.

Gradually, I’ve read and listened my way towards developing a more compassionate and gentle mindset when it comes to my financial situation. I’ve paid off, pretty much exactly, £8k of the debt. My total now sits at just below £21k, because, at the same time as making payments, I used a little credit to pay for a certification I’m super excited about. I’ve done what I can to “un-shame” my own debt and, as such, the decisions past me made which have led to this version of my present. I’ve sold SO MUCH STUFF. And, at the same time, I’ve bought so much less than ever before. I’ve grappled, in a real way, with the question of consumption in my own life. I’ve laid the groundwork to enable me to make bigger, more impactful changes as a consumer as we make our way through another betwixmas and towards a brand new year. I’ve done internal and external work that I’m so proud of over the course of my spacious year, not one second of which has felt easy. I’ve survived every intense feeling I’ve felt. I’m filled with gratitude to be shortlisting the candidates for the word I’ll tether to 2025.

hny :)

I’ve spent so much of the past several months since launching my own spin biz, thinking, and talking, about this thing I love so deeply. It’s impossible to overstate the impact spin has had on my own life. The gift it has been. This year alone, it has given me the ability to completely transform my working life. I’ve left my “sensible”, traditional but soul crushing job in law, something I never could have seen myself doing even this time last year, to give “kind of full-time spin biz person” a go. I’ve also taken on a side hustle as a barista (so grateful for this new job) to support myself because the money I’m currently making from spin simply isn’t enough to cover housing costs and bills.

Spin has been a huge part of how I’ve moved my body for the past 12 years. In recent years it’s where I’ve made every single new friend and the community I’ve built from the podium, has held me as I’ve explored my identity which has shifted, expanded, and bloomed, in the 4 years since I taught my first class. It’s so hard to believe now (especially for me!) but I was dating a straight, cis man when I first started teaching.

Since my very first time in the saddle, spin has been the biggest source of joyful movement in my life. For the first 3 or 4 years it was part of a much bigger schedule of gruelling, daily workouts. During my intense running years, I “treated” myself to one spin class per week and I looked forward to it every day. I loved those weekly rides and I craved more of them, frustrated my very precise marathon training plan wouldn’t accommodate cross training more than once per week. There was something about that dark room, the way it completely immersed me in the music and the deliciously satisfying feeling that came from moving my body to a beat, that I simply couldn’t get elsewhere in my training plan/workouts. I was hooked.

When I started to explore the concept of joyful movement around 2016, something I was drawn to in the aftermath of a painful break-up and the difficult realisation that I had been subjected to years of particularly nasty body shaming and emotional abuse by my ex-partner, I started to approach every workout by asking myself the question, “am I enjoying this?” I stopped any workouts which elicited a “no” answer. It wasn’t long before spin was the only form of group exercise I was participating in.

As a spin teacher my priority has always been to create a joyful space for folks to come and move their bodies. A space free of shame, judgement, or expectation. I work hard to keep diet culture and any/all body hierarchies out of my spin-room, and I centre queer folks, bodies, and experiences. These are non-negotiables for me and my biz.

It has become clear to me, particularly over recent months, that what I have created in my class is an expression of my inner teen. I’ve had the privilege of creating a space, and a community, that my teenage self would have absolutely adored on so many levels. As a queer person this is especially important. Whilst we are in the middle of a lesbian renaissance in pop music (YAY!), this visibility and the pop cultural celebration of queer joy, is a very recent development. Back when I was an actual teen in the early 00s, growing up in a small town in northern England, I don’t think I could have named a single gay girl in music. And, back when I trained to be a spin teacher only 4 years ago, I didn’t know any lesbian/non-binary instructors.

My time in dark sweaty rooms, on bikes on either side of the podium, has given me the gift of freedom and joy in my body, heart, and mind. Riding has developed power in my physical body whilst also giving me a place to sit with the hardest symptoms of my mental illness. I genuinely believe that I would not be the person I am today without spin. So, the morning after my anxiety riddled night, I dragged my exhausted ass off the couch (where I had sat doom-scrolling so as not to disturb the rest of my gorgeous little family) and made my way to Gymbox Farringdon to teach a Charli XCX x Kesha themed ride.

When I’m feeling particularly anxious, I remind myself to take class one track at a time and I focus intensely on everything I personally love about each track which usually gives me plenty to talk about, as well as plenty to feel in my body. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. On this occasion I started to feel better in the first few seconds of class. I felt the spin magic. I shared it with the folks in the room. Once again, I felt immensely grateful for this thing I love so much.

At the end of the ride, I felt safe and supported enough to share one of the biz goals we’ve set for Ash Rides Ldn, to have double figures in terms of numbers in each ride. Since launching, I’ve felt unsure as to whether to share the nuts and bolts of what’s going on behind the scenes of the biz, I think because I feel so vulnerable about my spin baby. What if I tell the world I’m aiming to have 10 riders in every class and then I fail? What if sharing this goal suggests I care deeply about numbers from an ego perspective rather than a business reality? For the avoidance of doubt, I passionately believe that numbers are not an accurate indicator of a teacher’s talent or worthiness. What if folks who used to ride or work with me at my old studio - where I regularly had rooms full of 40 riders - hear about this goal and they judge me?

Until recent months I’ve always shared, from the podium and from my phone before and after class, with honesty and vulnerability. These have been priorities and necessities for me right from the start of my journey as a teacher. But lately, I’ve struggled to know what to share, particularly given that I am now very much more reliant on the income I make from spin to pay for my basic needs. What if I share about the 10 riders per class goal and classes get even quieter because folks think there will be no vibe? The “what-ifs” are relentless and so noisy there are times (often) when I simply can’t think straight.

On Sunday I decided, in the moment, that I wanted to acknowledge the 10 riders goal, and take a moment to vocalise my gratitude. When we arrived to set up for class on Sunday we had 8 bookings. On the Friday evening, we had 6 and I’d said to Lou that I had no idea how we could possibly reach 10 by Sunday morning, working on past booking patterns. And then, for the first time ever(!), 2 extra folks turned up at the ride and asked to buy a ticket there and then (THANK YOU LINDSAY AND SARAH!!) Lou was on front of house duties and, when she came into the studio from signing folks in, she was beaming and came rushing over to tell me about the extra folks who’d arrived to bring our numbers up to 10. Truly a nudge from a higher power telling me to trust and believe in myself and our biz goals. And so serendipitous it feels like it would be a missed opportunity not to share with y’all.

As for whether it’s time to add more movement strings to my bow, it’s pretty clear nothing is as personal to me as spin. In my view, a highly developed personal practice is essential to being a great movement teacher. I’ve wondered often about teaching some form of rest practice - something I’m continually developing a personal practice in - and I do think this could be a good option for me. Watch this space, I guess. On spin being “dead”, I’m wondering if that’s why we can’t get the old her on the phone? And I’m moving forward in the knowledge that my bike-based joy will sustain me and my biz regardless of fads or trends. Because me and spin, we’re in this for the fucking long game!

I should probably mention that I wrote the substance of this piece in June - it was intended to be a Pride month offering - but then I got too nervous to share it! As I was scrolling through my notes app this weekend I came across it again and re-read it. I was delighted to find I wasn’t horrified by it (lol). It’s also quite fun to look back on what I thought was noteworthy in the landscape of queer pop music back in those early days of summer!

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‘Red Wine Supernova’, Chappell Roan

ALL HAIL CHAPPELL ROAN. Chappell has been doing the work for queer pop music for years with very little mainstream recognition. She’s now having a moment (hey ‘Good Luck Babe’) and seems poised for a main pop girl summer (June 2024 Ash CALLED IT, well done babe!) RWS speaks for itself in terms of its gay girl summer credentials. A playful, sexy & hilarious bop including the campy queer AF opening lines “She was a Playboy, Brigitte Bardot, She showed me things I didn’t know, She did it right there, out on the deck, Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck”. And that’s before we even get to Chappell’s wand and her rabbit!

‘Silk Chiffon’, MUNA & Phoebe Bridgers

SILK!!!!! A gay girl anthem. This song is pure, unadulterated queer joy. I love every syllable of every word of every line. I hear it and I FEEL my fucking self. Because life really is so fun, I’ve put two versions of this song in the playlist: the original AND the live version recorded at Electric Lady Studios in New York which, whilst it sadly doesn’t have Phoebe, does have MUNA’s Naomi singing Phoebe’s verse and is a far too rare example of their gorgeous singing voice.

‘This Hell’, Rina Sawayama

This song queers so many references - “cos the devil’s wearing Prada and loves a little drama” - and is so effective in its reclamation of the homophobic slur about gays going to hell I actually can’t wait for someone to refer to me as bitch, ask me to pass the wine and then take me straight to hell. A Shania Twain reference, a boot stomping beat and an insatiably proud singalong every time I hear it, this song will be on every summer playlist I make for the rest of my gay little life. The recent Gyarupi Remix feat. CHANMINA is gorgeous and also on the playlist because why have one version of a song when you can have two?

‘Pussy Is God’, King Princess

A song so sapphic and so sexy it’s definitely one my ex-boyfriend was referring to when he remarked that he did actually listen to the ‘gay music’ I played constantly and maybe it was something we needed to talk about. Spoiler alert: we had the chat and here I am writing my gay little list of my gay little songs! Growing up in the 90s/00s the best lesbian representation on offer was Tatu’s ‘All The Things She Said’ or maybe Katy Perry’s ‘I Kissed A Girl’ (both of which I absolutely loved, obviously), but it’s clear sapphic representation is now in a whole different league. A song about sapphics worshipping pussy, “you know that it’s God baby when you’re around her, I’ve been praying for hours”. Thank fuck we have it now.

‘Born This Way’, Lady Gaga

QUEER POP CANON. Back when BTW was released I listened to it and connected to it from a sort of fledgling self-love perspective. I felt that it celebrated my (and everyone’s!) difference, at a time when I felt deeply ashamed of my body and myself, and spent hundreds of hours jumping around my bedroom screaming “I’m beautiful in my way cos God makes no mistakes” whilst trying to convince myself that being different was ok, maybe even cool, cos Gaga said so.

In recent years I’ve re-fallen for this song as I’ve softened and let go of the need for everything to be perfect. Yes, we have come so far from the “born this way” mentality as there has been more mainstream understanding of sexual and gender fluidity and at the same time, Gaga shouting “No matter gay, straight or bi, lesbian, transgender life, I’m on the right track baby, I was born to survive” in 2011 was INCREDIBLE. For Pride month last year I immersed myself in the MANY remixes of this song and I’ve added my favourite to the playlist along with the original. I’ve also learnt a new fact about BTW (the album, not the song) that remarkably I wasn’t aware of until now, it was released on MY 23rd BIRTHDAY (23rd May) in 2011! In the Eras style introduction to my life I can now open with, hi my name is Ash and I was born in 1989… AND Born This Way, the album by Lady Gaga, was released on my 23rd birthday. Hahaha.

‘Girls Like Girls’ & ‘Sleepover’, Hayley Kiyoko

If the gay pop music canon was hierarchical Lesbian Jesus (aka Hayley Kiyoko) would sit high amongst the leadership ranks. Hayley paved the way for so many of the queer artists on this list, singing openly about loving women back when the gay pop music canon was CONSIDERABLY smaller. It’s impossible to choose only one song by Hayley and so I’ve whacked in two of my faves. Girls Like Girls is LESBIAN POP CANON and I’m convinced there isn’t a queer person alive who doesn’t have memories of the confusion, desire and love felt at sleepovers throughout their life!

‘Loveher’ & ‘She’s On My Mind’, Romy

Mid Air - Romy’s debut album - opens with ‘Loveher’ and closes with ‘She’s On My Mind’, a deliciously queer sandwich for a deliciously queer album. What I feel when I hear these songs is so beautiful and expansive whilst at the same time there is deep sadness and grief. I am reminded that for so many years I simply didn’t have the language to describe queer joy (I hadn’t even heard the words), let alone feel it. Every song on this list describes feelings I’ve felt my whole life but not known how to articulate. These two Romy tracks especially have helped understand myself deeper and guided me towards SO MUCH joy in my queerness. 

‘The Wedding Song’, Reneé Rapp

I LOVE THIS SONG. When the chorus hits it really does feel like flyin’ and I am here to soar every damn day with Reneé. A love song AND a heartbreak anthem all in one. I’ve just asked google to tell me about the meaning of this song and learnt that it really is Reneé trying to remember a forgotten song she wrote whilst with an ex, which is a pretty unique origin story for a song!

‘Pineapple Slice’, Tove Lo

Please can we all agree to put bicon Tove Lo’s Pineapple Slice in every Pride playlist we make for the rest of time?! Everything about this song is perfection. Sexy AF (it’s Tove!) this song makes me blush a little haha. It’s tricky to choose only one Tove song for a queer playlist but I have been strict with myself because otherwise we’d end up with Tove’s entire discography on our hands (a situation you can and absolutely must put yourself in ASAP)!

‘Cruel Summer’, G Flip covering Taylor Swift

I live for the gay panic this cover unleashed earlier this year as we all realised that G did, they ACTUALLY DID sing “SHE looks up, grinnin’ like a devil!” Trust G to bring the gloriously gay to the Tay. A wonderful cover of an incredible song. If you’re interested in the wider world of queer Taylor covers THIS is a fun read.

‘Girls’, Girl in Red

‘Do you listen to Girl In Red?’ is one of my all time favourite sapphic references. Urban dictionary describes this question as, “A discreet way of asking a girl if she likes girls/is gay. Inspired by the iconic lesbian musician Girl In Red. Because if she listens to Girl In Red, she is most likely LGBT”. I have spent years of my life yearning to this song because girls in button up shirts really are so pretty it hurts.

‘Blow Out My Candle’ & ‘I Can Be Your Man’, Betty Who

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS FOREVER BETTY WHO. Betty’s self titled album (their most recent) is the first of theirs I’ve consumed in real time, single by single and as it was rolled out. It’s a fucking great album and these are two of my favourite tracks from it. It’s also the album that really made me realise that what I felt for Betty was very much that I want to BE them, rather than be WITH them, that classic dilemma! Something I find so incredible about Betty and so many queer artists is how they take us with them on their beautiful journeys as they learn more about their queerness and themselves, sharing and evolving and growing right in front of our eyes. Watching and cheering for someone else as they do this makes it seem like people in my life might cheer for me as I evolve too.

Signing off with the gloriously gay summer playlist itself for your listening pleasure… ENJOY!

As we were having our pre gig honest burger I remarked to Lou that I have no idea what the Bleachers fanbase is like. I wondered what it is that unites or defines a Bleachers fan, if we’ve any characteristics in common? Having now been to the gig, I’m not sure I’m any closer to answering that question other than to say there were definitely more middle aged men in attendance than I’d see at most of the gigs I go to. The six music daddies were out in force! I’ve seen Bleachers once before this gig, last summer at Finsbury Park as part of the 1975’s day festival line up. Bleachers were phenomenal. The 1975 were not - I left after only a couple of their songs, unable to fathom Matty Healy. I’m satisfied I’ve now made enough effort and can live the rest of my days peacefully trusting my dislike of the 1975.

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Whenever I’m describing Bleachers to someone who hasn’t heard of them (which I think is the majority of people I speak to about them?!) I start by saying they are Jack Antonoff’s band. In recent years Jack himself has become more well known as he’s risen to become one of the most prolific pop music producers working today. He’s most famous for producing ALOT of Taylor Swift’s output from 1989 onwards. He’s produced some of the most beloved pop girls of my generation, everyone from Lorde to Lana to The Chicks, Florence & The Machine and St. Vincent.

I first started listening to Bleachers several years ago, I think back when Jack was dating Lena Dunham and I was obsessed with her (classic). I remember the white album cover of the Gone Now era, Jack in full brass band getup on the front and me dancing around my flat to Let’s Get Married, which was delightfully included in the set list last week. More than anything, what I tell people about Bleachers is that they are a group of MUSICIANS. The star of their show is their instruments and the feelings they’re able to elicit in us using them. They have TWO drummers (Mike Riddleberger and Sean Hutchinson) and TWO sax players (Evan Smith and Zem Audu). It’s a gigantic YES from me. Any band that has one sax (let alone two!) is ELITE in my view. There is something so sexy about the sax. She’s a sensual instrument. Her shape, her sound, the way the person playing her has to completely surrender to her. She’s top tier. My favourite instrument. There we go, I’ve admitted it. I FUCKING LOVE THE SAXOPHONE. Go play Jesus is Dead for a particularly perfect example of the Bleachers sax infused sound.

Anyway, the point of this sax sidebar is - I think it’s rare to see a band with as much musicality as Bleachers. They improvise, they jam and they vibe constantly making them a complete joy to watch. The night of the gig, we arrived at the Forum about half an hour before Bleachers were due on stage to a packed out crowd. I played my favourite “waiting for the gig to start” game of trying to guess what song they’d open with. I really wasn’t sure BUT am happy to report, from the hot bath in which I’m re-listening to the setlist and writing these musings, that they opened with I Am Right On Time into Modern Girl followed by Jesus Is Dead. The 3 opening tracks from the latest album (Bleachers, B4 for short) IN ORDER. This is another glorious detail I’ve come to appreciate more and more these past years, album track order as an additional art form engaged in by artists. ALBUMS SHOULD BE LISTENED TO IN ORDER. When we get bursts of tracks in album order at a live show I am electrified. I get goosebumps. These 3 tracks provided the first tingling moment of the evening. YES JACK, thank you & I love you.

As I write I’m asking myself what it is I want to record about this gig. What is it I want to remember about spending the evening of 20th March 2024 with Bleachers in 10, 20, 30+ years from now? Selfishly I think it’s the unusual connection I feel to Jack in terms of his brain and how music seems to impact and move through it. The way I feel about music and how it affects me seems to be very similar to how Jack experiences it. I’ve never felt such an affinity with someone else’s description of how they feel and experience music. Both times I’ve seen Bleachers Jack has told his origin story of the band. How when he was dealing with a particularly deep bout of depression he ordered (I think) a particular type of keyboard. I can’t quite remember the specifics as I was mesmerised by the note Jack kept flicking on and off, observing that when we can hear the note we have hope. Sound = hope. Silence = despair. I am completely and utterly convinced that the hum of an electronic sound changes my brain chemistry. I get the sense it does something similar for Jack.

My favourite Bleachers song, BY A BLOODY MILE (which is saying something because I am a huge fan of MANY of their songs) is I Wanna Get Better. This song is so significant to me it’s absolutely on my list of top 10 most life altering songs. It’s a song I always lose my shit to when I hear it, in the best most cathartic way. When I’m having a shitty day or my mental health is especially fragile this song has the ability to penetrate the fog and convince me to open my mouth and scream/sing. I’m so grateful to Jack and Bleachers for that. Screaming I Wanna Get Better in a room full of music lovers, accompanied by Bleachers themselves, on my own on a stupid “mental health walk” or with my friends whilst we ride bikes that go nowhere in a dark sweaty room, will always be a way for me to come back to myself whilst connecting to a sense of something bigger than me. The best songs allow us to feel our humanity whilst connecting us to the vast humanity in all of us. In that Wednesday night crowd I felt ties to all the individual moments in which I’ve NEEDED that song. I screamed my wild heart out, hoping Jack might hear me/feel my contribution to the energy of the room and know how much his damn ear-worm of a song has helped me WANNA GET BETTER.

(From when I saw Bleachers last summer as this time I was determined to BE IN THE MOMENT and not film my fave song!)

As usual, I’m signing off with a playlist. Here is a DEEP dive into the Bleachers archive, complete with every recorded version of I Wanna Get Better and a selection of faves from the Bleachers cover album (Terrible Thrills, Vol. 2), curated by Jack and made up of all women artists covering the Strange Desire album in its entirety. See here for details of the Bleachers series of amazing cover projects!!! I am today year’s old when I am learning about Terrible Thrills, Vol. 3 which includes covers by MUNA (be still my beating heart!), Julien Baker and Mitski. I shall be tracking down this vinyl only limited edition release for my collection ASAP!

THE MUNA COVER OF ALL MY HEROES!

ONE LAST THING, if you’re at all interested in reading more about the Jack Antonoff/Bleachers sound, this is brilliant!

Today I’ll facilitate my final rides at Boom Cycle, the studio where I completed that indoor cycling training 4 years ago. The past few weeks have been full of the hardest feelings: sadness; fear; endless what ifs: middle of the night anxiety spirals, all entwined with the deepest grief. When I became sure of my decision to leave Boom I tried to make sense of all these feelings by visualising a Devil Wears Prada meme - the one where Andy is across the street as Miranda Priestly climbs out of an NYC cab and the two catch eyes. Andy has just left her job at whatever the fuck the fancy fashion magazine it is that Miranda presides over, she beams, visibly brighter and far less burdened than we’ve ever seen her before as she raises her hand to acknowledge her former boss. In the comparison I’m Andy, Boom is Miranda. In those first few days after the decision is made, thinking about this Devil Wears Prada visual encourages my overwhelmed brain to keep going, despite the overwhelming grief, and enables me to believe that relief is coming.

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Spinning/Indoor cycling/Riding a bike that goes nowhere in a dark room accompanied by loud music, is something of a cult-ish phenomenon. It’s ridiculed to such an extent in popular culture that I find myself feeling silly for having so many feelings about it. It feels disproportionate to be this sad about a bloody bike. But of course, I know it’s not really about the bike (well at least it’s not ALL about the bike). In my classes, the gift of presence made possible through vulnerability and compassion, is both given and received by the bucketload. That’s where my grief has its origin. In the space I’ve created together with hundreds of riders over hundreds of classes for years now. For 45 minutes I am wholly present. I am moving through whatever I’m feeling on a given day and there is ALWAYS joy to be found. The precise texture of that joy twists and changes from ride to ride and the space held with a specific group can never be recreated. I’m going to miss the EXACT people who ride with me at the PRECISE classes they come to. I’m going to miss them and the space they create WITH and FOR me so much it feels like my heart is breaking.

When I started facilitating spin, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror when I arrived at the studio. I second guessed every bit of coaching I tried to offer the room and I crossed my fingers every time I opened the door for class hoping that no one would be sat on a “side bike” (the bikes arranged to face the instructor side on) as those bikes offered a view of my body that I found excruciatingly uncomfortable. The gulf between how I thought about my body, my wonderfully sensitive brain and my rides in those early days, and how I think of them now is so vast it’s unrecognisable. I am so grateful to have been given the opportunity to grow and to heal in community with riders who’ve come back to ride with me time and time again. Some people who rode with me in my first months, still do.

I’ve talked a lot about my body image journey in the years I’ve been teaching and it’s something I’ll continue to talk about. Moving without any desire to lose weight AT ALL is STILL something that’s unusual. It might be argued that people talk about it less or at least have an awareness that “weight loss goals” are considered slightly “icky” but, aesthetic/health oriented goals are still very much the bricks from which the fitness industry is constructed. During my time at Boom I’ve worked to develop and lead a class which is built from completely different bricks. Cause' baby I could (and have) built a castle away from all the bricks diet culture threw at me (name that Tay influence!) Picking that castle up and taking her elsewhere makes me worry that I’m letting down riders who aren’t able to come along to the new castle (because she’s too far away etc etc). I spent most of the first week after announcing my decision feeling sad and frustrated at the sheer lack of options for radical babes who want to spin/move away from diet culture influences. I know how difficult I have found it to exist within an industry that repeatedly reasserts, in countless insidious ways, diet culture and classes which explicitly reject this are, sadly, still a tiny minority amongst the hundreds of spin classes taking place across our beautiful city on a given day.

I’m so proud of my work to radicalise spin. Indoor cycling is a style of movement that is most often associated with intensity, with complex choreography and has a “hardcore” image. It makes me so happy that riders tell their nervous friends that they can trust my classes to include them. It fills me with so much pride to see SO MANY girls, gays & theys riding to Muna and knowing that, in my class, there will be music that reflects their lives and their loves in abundance. In fact there will be so much of it, it’s not even worth acknowledging because it is just the norm. I’m proud of how I hold space. I’m proud of my body, my queerness, my soft belly, my joy, my ability to curate a fucking incredible playlist and to facilitate euphoria through combining movement and music. I’m proud of every moment I’ve spent present in my body on a bike. I’m proud that I’ve built something that people seek out again and again, tell their friends about and trust. I’m thrilled to be proving class by class that movement is something for everyone, something to be enjoyed and something to be reclaimed for ourselves.

I’m excited at the prospect of a new beginning. One with more creative freedom and the potential to realise my anti-diet approach in even more impactful ways. But BLOODY HELL saying goodbye feels impossible. Boom babes, ILYSM, always have, always will xox

From my LAST EVER Boom Cycle class which was SPARKLING!

To sign off, here is my final (non-themed!) Boom Cycle playlist, for your listening pleasure!

(Me experiencing psychedelic pinks (the opposite of catastrophic blues!) moments after exiting the O2 following Taylor’s surprise appearance at the Haim show!)

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1.    All Too Well (Ten Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version). It’s NYE 2022 turning into 2023. Lou, my now partner is spending new year at my place. It’s our 4th date but her first time coming over to the flat we now share. Important context for our (at that moment) fledging romance is that we connected online over our shared love for T Swizz, or more accurately “something I should know about her” was that she was “probably listening to Taylor Swift or Self Esteem”. A hinge prompt which elicited feverish excitement as I responded to ask what her favourite song from Midnights (then a mere few months old) was. As we arranged to spend NYE together we acknowledged the auspiciousness of the holiday for any Swiftie and jokingly wondered about how many times we’d manage to play Tay’s song New Years Day on New Years Day 2023. After a dizzyingly wonderful NYE we found ourselves giddy and giggling in bed circa 4am. I asked if we could play one final song before we slept and before I knew it ATW(TMV)(TV) was playing from my phone speaker and we were singing along in the dark.

2.    folklore/the 1. It’s summer 2020 in the weeks following the surprise release of folklore, Tay’s eighth studio album. My memory of that time is hazy as to specific dates/events, something I suspect many of us feel about that first pandemic summer. BUT, in the midst of all the anxiety and very real fear one thing was certain: the landscape of loving Taylor had changed. As of late July, us Swifties (with ZERO warning!) had a folk album on our hands! One in which TAYLOR takes a backseat and enchants us with folk stories about other people. I have such a vivid memory of a moment alone in my flat one morning (no idea which morning but it was definitely in The Morning) pottering in my kitchen having recently woken up. I put folklore on and as the first piano chords opened I had the urge to stand on my tiptoes and twirl. “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit, Been saying yes instead of no” sings Taylor, gentle confidence announcing her totally new sound. As I twirled on my tiptoes alone in my apartment I felt a moment of such pleasurable presence and hope. That song, that opening line and that album will always soothe my nerves and ease me to sleep, reminding me that hope is possible even in the scariest of moments.

3.    Shake It Off. It’s June 2018 and I’m at Wembley Stadium with one of my best Swiftie pals Mairi. We are attending the Reputation Stadium Tour, our seats are in the nosebleeds and we are surrounded by an abundance of dad/daughter combos. We arrived early enough to watch both Camilla Cabello’s and Charli XCX’s support sets, both of whom were invited back to the stage to join Tay partway through Shake It Off. To this day I covet the translucent, rainbow hued, tracksuit Charli wore for her Shake It Off cameo. Until that point I’d felt slightly embarrassed about being a grown adult woman bopping along in a sea of children but, seeing three grown women throw themselves into the sticky sweetness of PURE POP MUSIC released something inside of me. A swell of joy rose up that couldn’t be compressed and before I knew it, I was shake, shake SHAKING my booty along to the tassel shimmys of Tay’s multicoloured tinsel dress without a goddamn care in the world.

4.    Red (song & album!) It’s sometime in March 2016 in the middle of the night and I’m driving from Manchester to my Mum’s house. I’m scream crying fresh from a particularly hideous break up during which my now ex forced me out of his flat (this was before I had allowed myself to believe I was gay). Many people have said that Red is an album for driving to and on that night in my tiny Renault Cleo I felt it’s open road quality viscerally. “… LOVING HIM WAS REEEEEEED, oh losing him was blue like I’ve never known, missing him was dark grey all alone, forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you’ve never met”. God did I feel those words TO MY BONES that evening. At one point, I pulled into a motorway petrol station car park because frankly, I was crying so hard it wasn’t safe for me to drive. I turned Taylor up as loud as she’d go and just screamed the words letting them rip through my body. Ridiculously cathartic, downright ludicrous behaviour but good lord do I recommend a middle of the night scream cry to Red (album and/or song) in the immediate aftermath of a break up.

5.    Look What You Made Me Do. This song, more than any other of the many MANY Taylor songs I have ridden to in my classes, IS spinning to Taylor in my mind. I’ve always liked the song but there was a moment back in the early days of spinning to Taylor, I think actually in the very first Taylor album versus class I taught (the I-C-O-N-I-C 1989 vs Reputation), when the bass hit and the entire room just lit up. As we surged manically, embodying our Rep era energy, us spinning Swifties were galvanised in a way I’d never felt before. I’ve played it in class countless times since and there is something in the way this Look. What. You. Made. Me. Do beat hits my body that just GETS ME GOING. It’s irresistible. It’s the song that really taught me the power of being a Swiftie in community with other Swifties.

6.    Gasoline/Love Story mashup (Haim O2 show). It’s summer 2021 and I’m going to see three of the coolest sisters in Alt Pop/Rock - Haim. Long story short, Taylor lives her (and all of our) fantasy, embodying the role of fourth Haim sister when she joins Este, Alana and Danielle on stage for a glorious mash up of Gasoline and Love Story!!!! It’s hard to describe how I felt when I realised what was happening - the first live gig performance Taylor had been part of since before the pandemic. As Taylor strolled onstage, I remember the distinct sound of screaming, mine and an entire arena of (mostly) women - the Haim/Swiftie crossover is STRONG. When the song started, I wished I could exist for 5 minutes without blinking and willed myself to be present and in the moment. I stared wide eyed and screamed, surrendering myself to the magnitude of the moment. In the aftermath, I received countless messages asking, “if I was ok?”, proof of just how much a part of my personality enjoying Taylor’s music is at this point. Back when I was chatting to Lou on Hinge, before we’d even met, but whilst we were already seamlessly weaving Taylor into our shared history, she mentioned that she’d had a pretty epic live music year which included seeing T Swizz at the O2 with Haim. I love that we were both there, our screams mingling as we experienced an iconic pop culture moment separately but together. Our invisible string getting stronger.

7.    I forgot that you existed. Remember that break up I mentioned when talking about Red?! Well the absolute GIGGLES I got when I put Lover on for a first listen through. “But then something happened one magical night, I forgot that you existed, and I thought that it would kill me but it didn’t…”. SAME TAY, SAME. “It isn’t love, it isn’t hate, it’s just indifference”.

8.    Hey Stephen. It’s 2009. I think that means I’m a year into university (the first time around!) and I’m living between my uni house in Leeds and my Mum’s house in Preston, depending on if it’s term time or not. When I am home with Mum, I share a bedroom wall with my (ever so slightly!) younger sister who’s going through some stuff. Big stuff. Hard stuff. She’s listening to this up-and-coming American country artist named Taylor Swift. I’d heard the odd Taylor song on the radio, but this is the first time I’ve heard her consistently and in album form. It’s Fearless Era (the first time around!) and Taylor is pining over crushes and what it’s like being a nerdy girl in high school. I feel seen. I like that feeling. I’ve picked Hey Stephen as I have a vague memory, one that’s in my body’s response whenever I hear that song, of deeply felt sisterhood. The songs I heard through my bedroom wall that year formed the beginnings of a musical relationship I’ve since nurtured for 20 years, one of the longest relationships of my life (a fact that will always make my brain explode slightly)! Whenever I listen to Hey Stephen there’s this sense that my body is telling my brain, “it’s a love story, baby just say yes” (the love story being the one between Taylor and I, obviously).

9.    The Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) Vault. Yay, a more recent and happy moment with Taylor from last summer. Lou and I were visiting her hometown of Eastbourne together for the first time. During our visit, Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) was released - the first Taylor release we’d experienced together. As is probably apparent from now, this was a Big Deal. I know there are a variety of approaches amongst Swifties in terms of how to approach listening to a re-release but I (and thankfully Lou is too!) am absolutely a head straight to the Vault and listen kind of Swiftie. Once I’ve listened to the Vault a couple of times, I’ll then listen to the album in full in a more luxurious, slower fashion, including the Vault at the end which is then put into context in terms of how it sits within the world of the album, what it adds - you get the picture. Anyway, I remember the July heat, the bright sunshine and the incredible sensation I felt in my whole body waking up next to the woman I love, knowing that the day was a New Taylor Day, and we would get to experience that New Taylor Day together.

10. Eras Tour. It’s absolutely fascinating to me the extent to which this cultural event has soundtracked my life when I haven’t even been to the bloody thing myself yet! BUT, I am so here for it. I woke up the morning after that first show in Glendale (Arizona) to the knowledge that the setlist contained 44 SONGS, including an acoustic set of 2 surprise songs that would change every show. Immediately I wondered if I could somehow facilitate an Eras Tour spin class. How would that work? Would anyone (apart from me?!) want to spin for 3+ hours? I settled on breaking the setlist down into 5 separate classes (very casual) and got to work on making the playlist for the first one. I set myself a couple of clear ground rules including that I wanted to ride to the songs from the setlist IN ORDER as much as possible. When I set out on this endeavour, I had no idea quite how unique and special a thing it would be to experience the tour from afar in this way. I tracked the secret songs closely, as well as the happenings/announcements/moments from each show to see if these could be incorporated to make the experience as UP TO DATE as possible. I loved it so much when Long Live was added to the setlist and I got to fall in love with that song all over again. It was so fun when Jack Antonoff joined in New Jersey resulting in Getaway Car as one of the evenings (and the corresponding ride’s) surprise songs. Similarly, when Haim joined in LA for No Body, No Crime, we rode to it in our Eras Ride that week. I think my favourite moment of synchronicity was when we emerged from an Eras Ride to the announcement made, WHILST WE WERE IN CLASS(!), that the Eras tour would come to Europe in summer 2024. FINALLY!

11. Our Song. I played this song in one of the first classes my beautiful friend Maddie came to. I remember the tentative “woo” and the big, beautiful smile beaming up at me from the corner of the room as the first country strings blasted from the speakers. I didn’t know Maddie before she came to class and one of the first things we bonded over, outside of spin, was our mutual love of Taylor. The detailed discussions we have had, interrogating every era and comparing our favourite songs. Adult friendships, particularly between mutual fangirls, are precious. There is something so beautiful about embracing our passions completely, free of the shame that accompanies much of what we do as teenagers. What was once cringe is now something we bond over, something we allow ourselves to enjoy unabashedly. I will always be grateful to Taylor for that.

12. Lavender Haze. This is on the list because I have a beautiful fur child (sausage dog) named Lavender and her name both is/isn’t completely influenced by the Taylor song Lavender Haze. There are many reasons why the Universe decided, in the middle of the night (a Swiftian time if ever there was one) to present the name Lavender to me as the only option for the puppy I had recently decided to bring into my life. The fact I was about to become a dog mum didn’t feel real until I’d decided on a name for her, an impossible seeming task until suddenly it wasn’t, and Lavender was perfect. A Swiftie reference, a shade of purple (a well-known favourite colour of mine) and a word with so much queer history (for the briefest of summaries of this, see https://www.kew.org/read-and-watch/plants-LGBTQ-symbols). It also smells GREAT and is one of my fave flowers. So yeah, I’ve got a special relationship with Taylor’s and my own Lavender Haze, in every sense of the beautiful phrase.

13. Welcome to New York. I have a vivid memory of riding the escalator up from the tube one day back in my early years living in London. I was reading Lena Dunham’s book Not That Kind of Girl and the album 1989 (the original version) was in my headphones (a 2014 MOOD if ever there was one!) I must have just hit play on the album because Welcome to New York blasted in my ears and my body was filled with an all-encompassing sense of contentment. As it was happening, I was aware that, despite its complete mundanity, it was a perfect moment. Lena/Jack/Taylor/New York/London/1989/Me/Girls/the precipice of adulthood. As I rose up into the London streets, I thought about Taylor dropping her suitcase in New York, like I had in London only a few years earlier and I felt invincible, like anything was possible.

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Let Go is a special album. In recent years I’ve started affectionately referring to it as one of my “top ten life altering albums”. As the show opens bombarding my eyes, ears and beat loving body with visuals of Avril in all her earliest iterations, at the core of which is the iconic artwork from the now 20-year-old Let Go, I am transported to my childhood living room. It’s sometime in the early noughties, my sister and I are recreating the skatepark from the Sk8er Boi video in our Dad’s living room. The cream leather sofas become skate ramps, we strum our air guitars, bang our heads and blast the video as loud as the TV will go. We fling ourselves around, jumping on and off the sofas, mimicking the stunts Avril and her mates pull on screen. Back then, I love Sk8er Boi with the kind of obsessive energy we’d now describe as “stan energy”. It’s the kind of song that’s lyrics will be seared onto my brain for the rest of my life. I can never not know the words, I can never NOT singalong anytime I hear it.

Back in the crowd at Ally Pally I’m overcome with anticipation. The video clips and visuals being played across three gigantic screens flanking the sides of the stage and filling the entire back portion of it are accompanied by snippets from Bad Reputation, a Joan Jett song covered by Avril. Reputation, a word that threads Joan Jett through Avril Lavigne to Taylor Swift in my personal musical geography. In that split second I realise how much THAT Taylor era has perhaps borrowed from this moment of Avril’s.

I’m struck by the sight of a teenage Avril stood in the middle of the road, arms crossed in her baggy trousers and long cardigan, her piercing, heavily lined eyes looking just over my shoulder. There’s something about her youth, her stare and the angst that drips from the cover that makes my heart ache for teenage me. In that moment I realise how special the next hour is going to be. It’s the first time I’ve seen Avril live. I only bought my ticket the day before the gig, after an obsessive and frantic search. Tickets were in such high demand on twickets I missed countless singles within seconds of them being posted. When I finally got my hands on one it felt like such an accomplishment. The day of the show I listen to as much Avril as I can, reminding myself of every era, making sure I give her latest album a couple of listens as I expect she’ll play plenty of her new songs. But, as is always the case, when I listen to Avril, I’m pulled back to Let Go. It’s a cornerstone for me, a benchmark, a musical moment on which so much turns in terms of my love for Avril but also, my love for myself.

Avril opens her set with Bite Me, the title track from her latest album and the namesake for this tour. It’s fun, my body fizzes with excitement and I bop along to the beat with all the other nostalgic (I’m guessing!) 30 something year olds. The setlist is a pitch perfect, triumphant romp through the back catalogue including bangers What the Hell, Complicated and My Happy Ending. Every song awakens memories whilst at the same time making new ones.

When we reach the climax of the whole thing, Sk8er Boi, I’m convinced that for 3 minutes and 24 seconds I actually AM 13 years old again. As the DA DAAAA DA DAAAA, DA DAAAA DA DAAAA guitar riff opens, I catch my pal’s eye and we are both grinning from ear to ear. It’s a wonderful kind of catharsis to experience a beloved song live, for the first time, as an adult. Memories flood my body and they are the visceral kind, the vast expansive ones that present as feelings rather than specific events or things. I remember feeling so so alone, listening to Let Go, one of only a handful of CDs I carried around with my walkman, on repeat between classes at school. Now, at Ally Pally, as I jump with my pals, all of us beaming, I’m grateful for the new memory we are creating. One to be added to the vault in my brain to be unlocked at the sound of the DA DAAAA DA DAAAA, DA DAAAA DA DAAAA guitar riff some time in ten, twenty or thirty years from now. I already can’t wait to remember this moment.

To sign off, here is a playlist of my Avril faves, made during the week of the gig! Happy listening and thank you so much for reading xxx

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