Across five years of tireless activity, Taylor Swift has repeatedly envisioned herself in the shoes of doomed women in history and literature while coping with stress and public-relations disasters. Her folklore-era studies of tragic characters seemed to wonder whether there’s a Grey Gardens in her own future. Last year’s The Tortured Poets Department, which recounted Swift’s breakups with rocker beau Matty Healy and actor/co-writer Joe Alwyn, bristled at expectations and disappeared into fantasy. She played a gun moll on the run; she was a diabolical mathematician. The pithy “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” suggested she’d rather keep to herself and terrify neighborhood children like To Kill a Mockingbird’s Boo Radley than observe any cookie-cutter standards of living. But lately, she’s been getting her way in a year of overdue resolutions: She bought the masters for her first six albums and bagged a football husband.
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