In a fresh twist on her songwriting playbook, Taylor Swift dives into the glamour and grit of old Hollywood with "Elizabeth Taylor", the second track from her newly dropped album The Life of a Showgirl, released today. The song, clocking in at just over three minutes, paints a vivid picture of love's uncertainties through the lens of the legendary actress's tumultuous romances. Swift, ever the storyteller, seems to draw parallels to her own high-profile life, whispering lines that echo eternal questions like, "Do you think it's forever?"
Elizabeth Taylor, for those unfamiliar, was more than just a silver-screen siren. Born in London in 1932, she fled to Los Angeles with her family just before World War II erupted. By age 12, she was already captivating audiences in films like National Velvet. Her career skyrocketed through the '50s and '60s, earning her two Oscars and a reputation for fiery passion off-screen too. Indeed, Taylor's eight marriages—two to the tempestuous Richard Burton—defined tabloid lore, blending extravagance with heartbreak.
Swift's lyrics cleverly nod to these chapters. That stunning view of Portofino lingers in the song, a spot where Burton first proposed to Taylor amid the Italian Riviera's azure waters. When Swift sings about a call from the Plaza Athénée, it evokes the jet-set luxury Taylor embodied, yet the tune admits it "doesn't feel so glamorous" up close. Moreover, references to "cry my eyes violet"—alluding to Taylor's famous lavender gaze—and "all my white diamonds," her iconic perfume line, weave in subtle tributes. However, the core feels personal: past loves who "promised they'd stay" but faded, contrasted with a blooming connection that hints at reassurance for Swift and her fiancé, Travis Kelce.
The track isn't mere homage; it subtly critiques the spotlight's toll on intimacy, much like Taylor's own battles with fame's double edge. Swift, composing alongside Max Martin, turns vulnerability into velvet hooks. Yet, one wonders if invoking such a larger-than-life figure truly captures the quiet fears behind the fame.