So I saw everyone online obsessing over Taylor Swift’s massive success and figured, hey why not try copying her steps? Total curiosity mode activated. Grabbed my notebook and dove headfirst into this rabbit hole.
First Step? Research Fail
Figured I’d start easy: just copy her exact look. Pulled up tons of pics and videos. Big mistake. Her signature red lip? Made me look like a washed-out ghost. Tried that famous side-swept blonde bang she rocked years ago. Spent 45 minutes wrestling with a curling iron only to burn my forehead and look like a poodle got electrocuted. Felt stupid staring at the mirror wiping off smudged lipstick.
The “Write Like Taylor” Disaster
Okay, maybe the music part’s easier? Sat down at my cheap keyboard thinking I’d whip up some heartbreak lyrics. My deep thoughts today? “Raining hard… my cat hissed… leftover pizza crust.” Groundbreaking. Tried humming a catchy melody. Sounded like a dying vacuum cleaner mixed with off-key karaoke. Recorded it on my phone and played it back. Yeah, deleted that shame instantly. Crumpled paper everywhere.
Connecting “Fans” Like She Does
Not giving up! Everyone says she’s killer at connecting with fans. Decided to build my “Swiftie Army” from scratch. Made a cheesy post online: “Following back everyone who likes this! Let’s grow together!!” Three hours later? Seven random follows:
- A crypto bot
- Someone selling toenail fungus cream
- Five eerily silent accounts with egg profile pics
Felt like shouting into a black hole. Ordered sad takeout.
The Glaringly Obvious Thing I Missed
Slamming my laptop shut, it hit me like cold coffee to the face. Taylor didn’t start with the bangs or the stadiums. Those tiny acoustic guitar sessions at coffee shops? Years of writing garbage songs nobody heard? The endless rewrites? I skipped ALL that foundation. Tried to jump straight to the glittery outcome.
Realized I needed to focus on the actual work, not the sparkle. Grabbed my old guitar instead of the curling iron next morning. Strummed one basic chord until my fingertips hurt. Wrote one terrible line about burnt toast. Kept both. Baby steps suck, but hey – at least I didn’t burn myself this time.