In the glittering whirlwind of Taylor Swift's latest album, The Life of a Showgirl, released just yesterday on October 3, 2025, one track stands out for its nod to old Hollywood: "Elizabeth Taylor." The song, track number two, weaves Swift's own romantic anxieties with references to the iconic actress Elizabeth Taylor, whose life was a tapestry of fame, scandal, and enduring allure. Indeed, Swift seems to channel Taylor's spirit as she questions the permanence of love, singing lines that echo the actress's own tumultuous path.
Elizabeth Taylor, born in 1932 in London to American parents, became a child star in Hollywood after her family relocated to Los Angeles on the eve of World War II. By age 12, she captivated audiences in films like National Velvet, but it was her adult roles—in Cleopatra and beyond—that cemented her as a symbol of glamour. Taylor's violet eyes, often described in breathless prose, and her eight marriages, including two to the fiery Richard Burton, defined an era of unapologetic passion. Burton first proposed to her in the picturesque Italian village of Portofino, a detail Swift invokes vividly in her lyrics: "That view of Portofino was on my mind when you called me at the Plaza Athénée." It's a clever touch, blending Swift's jet-set life with Taylor's legendary romance, though one can't help but sense the underlying fragility in such high-stakes love stories.
Moreover, Swift's chorus pleads for reassurance—"Do you think it's forever?"—while alluding to Taylor's personal empire, like her bestselling White Diamonds perfume, with phrases such as "all my white diamonds." The song reportedly draws parallels to Swift's relationship with fiancé Travis Kelce, contrasting past heartbreaks with a blooming connection. However, it's Taylor's shadow that looms largest, her life a cautionary yet captivating tale of love's highs and lows. Swift has referenced her before, in "Ready for It?" with the line "Burton to this Taylor," but this feels more intimate, almost reverent.
Yet, for all its sparkle, the track underscores a sobering truth: glamour often masks doubt. As Swift cries, "I'd cry my eyes violet" if it ends, she humanizes a icon who faced AIDS advocacy and personal battles with quiet strength. Elizabeth Taylor passed in 2011 at 79, leaving a legacy that Swift now reinterprets for a new generation.
In an industry obsessed with reinvention, how might these echoes of past stars shape the songs we sing tomorrow?