Taylor Swift, notorious superstar who throws away unopened fanmail, just released her music video for “22,” a single off her album “Red” that sold a billionbagillion copies. It’s basically one long “night out with my besties!” complete with boyfriend-bashing, heart-shaped hipster sunglasses, and weird cat-ear headbands. OMG! OMG! OMG! As a piece of music video performance art, it’s basically a four minute, vomit-inducing “selfies with my girlz!.” See how they even rounded out the edges of the frame so it looks like a fucking Instagram filter? Totes cray! OMG!
You guys, Taylor Swift’s “22” music video is my worst nightmare, like being the only guy at brunch with your girlfriend and her friends in a restaurant where the service is super, super slow. You know, because it’s Sunday morning and the place is slammed, forcing you to make pleasant conversation while you try to smile and nod through a miserable hangover. But really all the conversation consists of is a broken record of “ermahgerd” this, “she’s a hot mess” that, and “you mean she’s dating him?!” The waiter can’t bring the bottomless, watered-down bloody marys fast enough.
“Youuuu guyssss, I made out with the cutest guy from Georgetown at Bowery Electric last night! I should have given him my real phone number! What a craaazy night. LOL. “
I mean this in all seriousness: “Girls” episodes are far more interesting.
This music video is a candy Appletini hellscape. This video is a forced shopping trip to H&M on Super Bowl Sunday. This video reminds me absolutely nothing about what it’s like to be 22.
After watching it three times, I am in my own personal hell.
Who’s that Taylor Swift anyway?
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