Excuse the Swift pun.

On Monday September 9, Taylor Swift invited press and fans from over 30 countries to an exclusive first listening of her new album Lover, in none other than the ‘City of Lovers’ - Paris. An apt location for the debut of an album not just centred around, but entirely overflowing with love of every kind. In a venue no bigger than Dublin’s own Olympia, just 2,000 die-hard Swifties stood waiting for their favourite cat-eyed idol. There were sequins, a lot of red lipstick, and a sea of light-up wristbands, waiting to glow in time with new lyrics. I quickly realised that Tay Tay fans are little bit cray cray. But they don’t mean any harm. Judging from the fans present at the Parisian venue, Taylor’s fans have grown up with her. They’re grown up fan-girls, and there is something so wholesome about that.

Now, hands up, I liked Taylor. Liked in the way that anyone likes ham sandwiches or likes a good ponytail. Nothing against any of the above, they’re all just a bit, well, grand. In recent years I’ve found myself gravitating towards her old stuff, the guitar-strung acoustic Taylor. So, nothing made me happier than to see her turn off the blinding lights and upbeat background tempos in favour of a stripped back display of her new album last Monday night. There’s few artists of her scale still belting out original lyrics without the help of a few mimed lines here and there. While everyone teases the ‘snake’ or makes fun of Swift’s awkward dance moves and attempted sultry glances, it’s easy to forget that the girl’s got talent - and she’s got it in spades. In between songs Taylor spoke in short anecdotes, describing the places she wrote and the processes behind her songs, described her songwriting as “using songs like photographs” to preserve memories. And just like that she picked back up her guitar and transported us with her to “Cornelius Street” and every other section of her heart. However scripted her “ad-lib” appeared at times, you can’t help but believe that somewhere in the process, Taylor is there making sure what she says is true to her voice. The proof? Her Mom sitting merely feet away from us. And if Mrs Swift is anything like our Irish Mammies, she’d call her bluff fairly lively. An innocent and wholesome concert if ever I saw one - and there's nothing wrong with that.