This is the second and final part of a series of articles I was dying to write — as a tribute to my girlfriends who share my passion for Taylor, Beyoncé, and concerts. These same girlfriends who also spend months preparing for a show, who never judge my Eras Tour revision schedule, who create shared docs to coordinate our outfits and travel…
But also, a tribute to little ten-year-old Clémence, who was told that making friendship bracelets and knowing every lyric and dance move of the Spice Girls or Britney by heart would never take her anywhere. Finally, it’s a tribute to all the strangers I’ve met along the way, with whom I share this love for my icons — those I meet again at concerts, who also cry with joy, scream the songs that carried them through difficult times, and celebrate this passion together.
I have a lot of people around me who don’t understand why we go to the same concert multiple times, or why we spend so much money on tickets, merch, vinyls… Most of them chuckle condescendingly or kindly tell me I’m “crazy.” So I figured it was time to explain why this part of me makes me the person my loved ones, my clients, and my community adore so much — often without even realizing it.
Friendship bracelets exchanged by Taylor Swift fans at her concerts
Passion and intensity — or nothing at all
A story of misogyny (obviously)
I like to live things intensely — I think I was born this way. I laugh to tears easily, I cry while reading books (I still have nightmares about the ending of La Passe-Miroir — an incredible series a friend recommended that I finished over two months ago), and I can scream with joy or sadness at the drop of a hat.
The truth is: I think a lot of people want to live like this too. But we’re taught pretty quickly that rolling on the floor in the supermarket aisle because you can’t get three Barbies every time you go shopping is “inappropriate behavior.” Above all, we’re taught to adapt our emotions to the social context. There are rules of “social correctness” — and let me tell you, they’re not the same for women and men.
- Real men don’t cry: “Don’t cry, you’re not a girl.”
- Good girls don’t swear: “Don’t talk like a truck driver!”
- Girls shouldn’t make too much noise.
- Girls must cross their legs when sitting — because god forbid we take up too much space.
- Girls shouldn’t give their opinion or get angry.
I’ll spare you the full list — we’d be here all day.
So when young girls, and later women, are told that being a fangirl is “shameful,” it’s actually something else they’re being told: Don’t be loud. Don’t show what drives you. Don’t scream. And above all, don’t connect with other women.
Yes — if you haven’t figured it out yet, everything is designed to keep us too busy not supporting each other. That way, men don’t have to deal with crowds of women saying they’re done being taken for fools.
And when you see women criticizing other women for wearing outfit X or Y to a concert (or to work) — often “too short, too bright, too low-cut” — it’s not really that they don’t like the outfit. It’s that we’ve been taught outfit X says something “inappropriate” about us. And through internalized misogyny, we’re convinced we don’t have the freedom to wear it. So we become the patriarchy’s vigilantes, pointing fingers at women who dare to break free from rules a male-dominated society imposed on us.
Emancipation — bring out the glue guns (and glitter!)
So when I see girls and women all over the world, of all body types, wearing sequin bodysuits, glitter boots, mini-skirts, you name it… I’m thrilled.
In fact, the little Clémence who used to dream of platforms, miniskirts, and bralettes in fourth grade would be screaming with joy knowing that I went to Beyoncé’s concert in sequined tights, rhinestone fringe crop top, and a mini-skort. Or that I showed up alone at the concert film screening in a gold bomber, glitter makeup, and a miniskirt. A few years ago, I NEVER would have dared to step outside alone like that. I would’ve been terrified of being attacked, judged, shamed — I wouldn’t have made it past my door.
But when you’re surrounded by 80,000 people also half-dressed and sparkling? It changes everything. Our icons create communities where we’re safe to explore our identities, passions, and looks — without worrying about ridicule or violence.
You might wonder what difference this makes in my everyday life. Well, it makes me bold. It makes me want to show up fully as I am. I don’t want to shut up or hide my tastes just to fit in.
And I’m convinced this helps me attract the right people — collaborators, clients, even new adventures. We talk a lot about personal branding today, with the rise of social media in business. In my case, being radically honest and transparent about who I am, what I love, and how that evolves proves to my clients and potential clients that I’m not selling smoke and mirrors.
Allowing yourself to be fully yourself means allowing yourself to truly know yourself — without playing a role. When women are forced into molds, they’re condemned to act out identities that don’t belong to them. Icons offer us dozens of alternatives we can experiment with and remix endlessly, until we finally discover our true colors (yes, just like Cyndi Lauper said).
Snapshot from the Renaissance World Tour — of course I was there.
The power of community
Being a fangirl is screaming, crying, being left speechless at a concert (or in your bedroom)… but most importantly, it’s being part of a community that screams, cries, and stays speechless right alongside you.
When I saw Beyoncé for the first time, I cried (a lot). A young Brazilian fan who’d seen her several times hugged me and told me he cried every time too, and that it was okay. That stranger validated my emotions and encouraged me to fully live the moment.
I can’t explain the feeling of standing in a stadium with tens of thousands of people singing in unison. I can’t explain why I cry at videos of kids being surprised with Eras Tour tickets. Or how moved I am by the tens of thousands of friendship bracelets exchanged, the compliments on outfits, the little acts of kindness everywhere…
When we’re labeled “fangirls,” people don’t realize it actually means belonging to something so much bigger. Belonging to a group creates a sense of safety that builds lasting self-confidence. It allows us to affirm our identities without fear of ridicule, because the community itself becomes a protective cocoon.
And I can’t ignore how central mutual support is in fangirl life: sharing tips on how to get tickets, fundraising for other fans in need (like sick kids who get to meet their idols), sharing outfit ideas, tutorials for anything and everything. Support lives online, but also IRL. (You thought peak sisterhood was in bar bathrooms? Wait until you pee at a Beyoncé concert.)
How it all translates outside concerts
If you’re still wondering how this matters outside of our passions — which might seem trivial to you — here’s a quick list of ways my fangirl sense of community shows up in daily life:
- I always respect other people’s quirks and passions — they’re some of the most intimate things you can know about someone.
- I give my time to people who ask, even if it’s just for a coffee chat (while respecting my own energy).
- I have a golden network. Not of corporate CEOs, but of women who speak my name when it matters most.
- I never hesitate to recommend the talented women in my circle when opportunities come up.
- I share advice freely in my content — not to get you to hire me, but because I truly believe in adding value to the conversation.
- I volunteer regularly, and I even signed up for the Course des Héros to support a charity I deeply care about.
Every donation counts. You can be my fangirls too.
I won’t write dozens more pages — you get it. Being a fangirl reconnects you to empathy. And whether you’re in services or creating products, being able to deeply understand another person’s needs is a huge part of success.
Sounds basic? I’m not talking about market research. I’m talking about emotions. Stories. The things that drive people.
My life as a fangirl makes me the best cheerleader my clients could ever ask for. I choose clients I truly believe in, and I get behind them relentlessly — like I keep shouting at the end of a concert even when I’ve lost my voice. Because support isn’t just about building tools or giving strategy. It matters when morale dips, when doubt creeps in. That’s the difference between doing everything alone and having a partner/friend with fangirl DNA.
I’ve got special skills when it comes to restoring your confidence.
“I don’t think you should ever have to apologize for your excitement. Just because something’s cliche doesn’t mean it’s not awesome. The worst kind of person is someone who makes someone feel bad, dumb or stupid for being excited about something.”
— Taylor Swift
On that note, I’ll leave you here — I’ve got friendship bracelets to finish!
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