Bury Me in Double Denim and a Feather Boa

“I’m leaving you for an ex-boyband member with three nipples”

Photo by Lloyd Wakefield

I was watching the movie Music and Lyrics with my parents recently. It follows Alex Fletcher, an 80s boyband has-been, played by Hugh Grant, as he tries to revive his career. “Who do you think will be the Hugh Grant character from One Direction?” I asked Mum. “Louis” she replied confidently. “Well, it definitely isn’t going to be Harry” I told her.

I have a confession: Harry was never my favourite. I had a thing for Louis.

I wasn’t obsessed with One Direction, but I was definitely a fan. Well, how would one define obsessed? I didn’t camp outside their hotel when they were in Sydney (unfortunately I was working) and I didn’t cyberbully the girls they dated (I was too busy photoshopping pictures of Louis and I together). I was however, listening to One Direction songs on my iPod Nano, as I walked around the Notre Dame campus looking for my lecture room. I was 18 and enjoying the remaining time I had left of being a teenager, where being in love with a boyband was still kind of cute.

It wasn’t until April 2012 that I would finally see One Direction in concert. I accompanied my two younger sisters to the Hordern Pavillion for the sold-out show. I was one of the few people in attendance who had gone through puberty. If anyone asked, I would’ve told them I was babysitting my sisters. My sisters made t-shirts but they didn’t think to make me one. I was upset about this but it all seemed insignificant once I was lost in the music, surrounded by equally enthusiastic and delusional fans. One Direction fans aren’t afraid to show their enthusiasm and will scream, cry and pass out as soon as the boys hit the stage (don’t worry, it was only a light fall, I’m okay).

It wasn’t too long after this that I moved out of home, cut a front-fringe and started going to indie gigs with my new boyfriend. Without realising, I had forgotten all about One Direction. I couldn’t even tell you where I was or how I felt when One Direction announced their hiatus in 2016. I have a feeling I was shovelling down greasy fries on the steps of Central Station, hoping they would drown my full-time work sorrows. I still love you Louis, but I realised that I couldn’t be with a guy who looks better in skinny jeans than I do.

Harry Styles recently took his Love On Tour all over Australia. I didn’t have tickets to either of his two Sydney shows and I knew that any Instagram video of someone at his concert would send me into a depressive spiral. Alas, my ‘We should go to the Harry Styles Concert’ campaign began. I knew my boyfriend Tim wasn’t going to understand what was at stake here. “There’s a feather boa shortage in Sydney” I told Tim. He was confused. He didn’t understand why there was a feather boa shortage or why he should care that there was. I explained that there were two Harry Styles shows that Friday and Saturday night. “If you’re not wearing a feather boa or a cowboy hat, you may as well not show up” I explained. “Wait, so does Harry wear feather boas or something? I don’t understand…” Tim said. I opted out of the history lesson and instead spoke about how amazing it would be for us to go. “There’s still some tickets available…” I said as I was already mentally preparing my outfit. We looked up the tickets, were stunned by the prices but decided we should go anyway. “Tim, if Harry asks, you’re my brother” I said half-jokingly from across the room. Tim, not at all threatened or concerned, replied enthusiastically “Yes, of course!”. It was almost as though he thought there wasn’t a chance Harry would seek me out at the concert.

I spent the day of the concert rushing around trying to find a feather boa but it was hopeless. I never wanted a feather boa so bad until I knew I couldn’t have one. I stood in front of The Reject Shop like Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.

I’m just a girl, standing in front of The Reject Shop, trying to find a feather boa, to make Harry Styles love her.

I overheard some teenage girls at The Reject Shop discussing their costumes for the show that night. I almost joined in with them. “Oh it is so hard finding a feather boa, huh? Tonight is going to be totally awesome” but then I remembered I’m 30.

Thankfully, I’m no stranger to double denim and was able to put together a 70s Dream Girl inspired outfit from my exisiting wardrobe. I told Tim that his usual black t-shirt and jeans combination wasn’t going to cut it. This wasn’t Steve Jobs announcing the first ever iPhone, this was a Harry Styles concert. I searched our wardrobe trying to find something colourful for him to wear. We settled on my vintage Grateful Dead tie dye t-shirt. As I curled my hair and used my fingers to apply cheap blue eyeshadow to my eyelids, I had fantasies of Harry saying in his English accent “Sorry everyone, I need to stop the show. The beautiful girl in the very back row…. I think I’m in love with you”. I would have no choice but to say to Tim “I’m sorry but I’m leaving you for an ex-boyband member with three nipples.”

We made our way to Central Station, on route to Sydney Olympic Park. “If you get lost, follow the feathers!” I heard someone say as we walked onto the train. When we sat down, a guy in front of us opened a can of beer that fizzed, and sprayed us a little. “Oh sorry guys!” he said. Tim told him not to worry as I looked around the train carriage full of sequinned dresses, cowboy hats, glittery eyelids and the smell of alcohol. “Where did you find your feather boa?” I asked the guy who sprayed us. I think a part of me deemed him “Not Feather Boa Worthy”. “Oh… I don’t know, one of the girls just put it on me” he said. Not Feather Boa Worthy indeed.

As we arrived at Accor Stadium, the sun was setting and we could hear Wet Leg performing their closing number Chaise Longue as we walked around the venue to find our door. We had already seen Wet Leg at The Oxford Art Factory last year so we weren’t terribly devastated to have missed their set. There’s something so liberating about arriving to a concert just in time for the artist. You’re hydrated, rested, excited. I’ve done my fair share of waiting outside in the sun all day to get a good spot at a concert. I’m not sure those days are completely behind me but the arrive-to-the-show-10-minutes-before-it-starts thing Tim and I have been doing as of late is tempting me to leave behind my old ways. As we walked up the never-ending concrete stairs, a Mexican wave was in order which took me back to the 2000 Sydney Olympics that I attended as a young girl. The teenage girl that I sat next to, looked me up and down, seemingly annoyed that the extra seat she thought she’d have for herself was now being occupied. We didn’t have great seats but Tim and I were happy with them given we purchased the tickets last minute.

At around 8:30pm, Harry entered the stage wearing a coordinated yellow outfit. Most notably an unbuttoned vest that revealed the statement piece of the ensemble: Harry’s abs. I turned to Tim and said “he is so hot” amid all the screaming and cheering. Tim laughed and continued absorbing everything that was going on. Perhaps I would’ve got a better response if I had said it to the teenage girl sitting on the other side of me. I immediately jumped up and started dancing upon the music starting. I could feel the teenage girl beside me staring at me. She seemed too shy to stand up. A few songs in, her and friend stood up. I felt like my obnoxiousness gave her confidence. The same girl cried really hard when Harry sang Matilda which made me sad. I wondered if she was crying because she was overwhelmed with Harry mania or because she related to the lyrics about feeling like you don’t belong in your family. Harry had told the crowd that our only responsibility that night was to have fun. And that we could be anyone we wanted to be that night. Everyone is welcome at Harry’s House. (Okay, prove it. Invite me over, Harry.)

The atmosphere was electric and it was hard not to feel like you were a part of something special. Harry’s set was high energy, which saw him running, leaping and jumping around the stage. The crowd was so loud, we would often overpower Harry’s vocals. The songs people screamed the loudest were As It Was and What Makes You Beautiful. During WMYB, I was transported back to that autumn night in 2012 where the floor vibrated as everyone jumped up and down inside the Hordern Pavillion. The same enthusiasm and excitement from the crowd ensued this night.

Harry used his arms to raise the volume of the crowd. It was a true measure of his star power. His ability to control a crowd of 83,000 by a simple rise and fall of his arms, is something to be acknowledged. I wondered what it does to ones psyche to be so adored and loved by women all of the world. It is pretty well-known knowledge that Harry likes older women. I think Harry likes older women because they are a challenge for him. They were fully grown adults at the height of the One Direction phenomenon so they’re able to play it cool around Harry. In his song Cinema, Harry sings, most likely about Olivia Wilde, “Do you think I’m cool too? Or am I too into you?”. You see, Harry would never have to wonder with me. He would know how very into him I was to the point all mystery and curiosity would be ruined. I do have the older woman thing going for me though given I’m precisely 403 days older than Harry. My gut issues, under-eye bags and lower back pain is what Harry is into, kids. Sorry I had to be the one to tell you. Now take your youth and your collagen and scram!

During the show, Harry spent some time chatting with the crowd. Harry scanned the stadium for fan-made posters. A sign that said “Harry, can I read you?” intrigued him. The lady holding the sign’s name was Shelly and she was a psychic. After a brief chat with Harry away from his microphone, Harry declared she was the real deal, before telling the audience that something big was going to happen to him in the next 12-18 months. I don’t know. It seemed a little far-fetched to me. The other sign that caught Harry’s eye was a lady asking him to do her gender-reveal. It was a baby girl. And I’m already jealous of her.

I went to the bathroom as Harry introduced the band. I could hear him singing Late Night Talking as I was in the cubicle. I skipped the hand soap and ran back to my seat. My favourite moment of the show was when Harry performed Little Freak, which is one of my favourite tracks off Harry’s House. It felt like that song was written with the intention of having a stadium sing it at the top of their lungs. I also cried during Sign Of The Times when I remembered I was wearing my Nanna’s ring that she gave to me before she passed. The stadium was lit up by iPhone torches and the song was being carried by the crowd. Harry faced his microphone down so he could shout the lyrics passionately with us. I was reminded in that moment that while I’ll always miss Nanna, there will be more moments like this that are worth hanging on for.

It was towards the end of the show that Harry excitedly shared that he had a surprise for us. Was he going to bring out Taylor Swift and they perform Style together? No, instead out stumbled absolute legend, Daryl Braithwaite. He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. The exact outfit I told Tim not to wear to a Harry Styles concert. They had his track Horses playing before the show which had the crowd passionately singing the chorus. “This is one of those songs where everyone knows the chorus and nobody knows the verses” Tim said. Now, we were able to sing it again with Harry and Daryl. Harry seemed genuinely stoked and Daryl seemed genuinely shocked to be singing in front of 83,000 people. “I’ve wanted to do that for 7 years” Harry declared after the song finished.

When the show abruptly ended, we saw Harry run and get scooped up by security as the stadium lights came back on. A voiceover courtesy of Accor Stadium, referenced Harry’s track Treat People With Kindness as we were asked to slowly start making our way out of the stadium. “And remember, Treat People With Kindness” they said. It was a rather manipulative move, on Accor Stadium’s behalf, to make us feel that we would be disappointing our beloved Harry if we pushed our way out of the stadium. Sorry, um, when I was shouting the lyrics, I didn’t think I was signing a lawfully-binding contract stating I had to be kind to everyone. I wondered if Harry’s ‘Treat People With Kindness’ brand would age as terribly as the Ellen DeGeneres ‘Be Kind to One Another’ tagline.

Tim and I linked arms as we walked slowly through the crowd, descending level by level. I said to Tim “You’ve got to admit, that was a pretty great show” and he agreed, adding that he likes Sign Of The Times. I asked if the show shocked him or perhaps made him see Harry in a different light. “No, it’s what I expected”. This wasn’t the response I was hoping for. Perhaps I was hoping Tim would get Harry’s birthmark tattooed because he had such a good time.

On the train ride home, we could hear people replaying videos they had taken on their phones during the show. “Daryl Braithwaite is 74” we heard someone’s Mum say. “That’s probably why he seemed short of breath” she laughed. Everyone’s make up looked terrible in the unflattering train lighting. My unblended blue eyeshadow would’ve given any beauty blogger nightmares. Tim no longer had to cosplay as my brother and could go back to being my boyfriend again. We cuddled and gave each nose kisses. Although, we have to remember something big will happen in the next 12-18 months. I wonder how Harry feels about being both the entertainment and the groom at our wedding in 12-18 months. And the bride wore a feather boa… ✨