On April 7th, Harry Styles is set drop his highly anticipated solo single, and as a self-proclaimed “Harry Girl,” his 30 second promo trailer was enough to send me in a permanent state of fangirl elation. I have high hopes for H’s new chapter and I have no doubt the single will be as grandiose, over-the-top, and theatrical as the floral-print two-piece suit-wearing boy himself.
March marked my fifth anniversary of being a One Direction fan. I like to joke that I will never love anyone as fiercely and passionately and thoroughly as I loved 1D back in 2012. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, 1D and all of their cheesy pop goodness helped through a difficult time in my life and I’ll be forever grateful.
Every time I log onto Twitter or open Whatsapp to text my best friend I realize that in a way, as gross and saccharine as it sounds, 1D is always with me. Most of my friends came into my life directly or indirectly through 1D and even as the boys have moved on to fatherhood and solo careers, they are still a part of my life.
A few times a week I still find myself affectionately rolling my eyes at Zayn’s latest black and white instagram upload. Or weighing the merits of brunette-Niall versus bottle blonde-Niall. Or sending frantic texts whenever Harry...does anything. I’m even making plans to stay up all night (pun intended) in order to listen to his single release interviews on BBC radio during the wee hours of Friday morning.
Whenever groups like the Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block announce reunion tours, my first instinct is always to scoff and think “Really? Who’s still going to see them?” But then I think of my own Great Boy Band Love and realize that if I’m being honest with myself, I’ll be talking about the boys (and referring to them exclusively as “the boys”) until their offspring are the age I am currently.
There’s a general consensus that as you get older your interests are supposed to change and mature as well. Everyone is always so quick to distance themselves from their younger and, therefore, more embarrassing hobbies. And in a way, I guess that’s completely valid. I’m sure it’s inevitable. Present day me wouldn’t be interested in the stuff 16-year old me was. But, at the same time I think it’s comforting to have a safe space that I can always return to when the real world gets a bit too tough.
Self care looks different for everyone. And for me, sometimes it’s driving home while blasting the Take Me Home album. Or smiling uncontrollably when I’m walking through the bra-section of a department store and “What Makes You Beautiful” starts blaring across the speakers.