The Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce Obsession Is Out of Control

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This Week

I do not want to hear any more about Taylor and Travis.

An incredibly important TV update.

The best part of the Real Housewives.

Pour one out for Dumbledore.

An exciting(ish?) movie.

Enough Already!

I am devastated to report that I now know who Travis Kelce is. I guess Taylor Swift really did put him on the map. (Straight women, you’ve never been funnier than in those TikToks where you tell your husbands and boyfriends how great it is that Swift gave Kelce this boost, since no one had heard of him before—I’ve never seen blood pressure spike so quickly.)

Typically, it’s not a good thing when ol’ Kevin Fallon is aware of a football player’s existence. It means they committed a crime, were anti-vax, are one of the New York Giants that I overhear my family cursing about on Sundays, or got really drunk once on Bravo. (OK, I actually appreciated that.) That, or they’re Tom Brady, which…gross.

I’m, of course, exaggerating my disinterest in the NFL—though only slightly. But there is something about the Taylor/Travis relationship, with apologies to all those TikTok husbands, that does make this seem like a unique situation. The Taylor Swift effect is real. I’ve never seen an athlete-celebrity “relationship” (are they even calling it that at this point?) smother the cultural zeitgeist to this extent, where it seems that no other news or famous person matters.

Originally, I thought this whole ordeal was orchestrated by Big Football to convince the last remaining of us to care about the sport. Indeed, the pop star showing up at Kelce’s game last Sunday did capture the entire country’s attention, as if we were all watching in awe as a meteor crashed into Kansas City’s Arrowhead Stadium. In the days since, pandemonium surrounding the pair has been all-consuming, not just dominating the celebrity news cycle, but also affecting, apparently, the economy, politics, and—most shockingly—the condiment industry.

I’m not immune to a little fascination over a celebrity coupling. (I have a body-language expert on retainer for each new Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck photo that drops.) But this Taylor-Travis hullabaloo seems unprecedented—and I am exhausted!

On Sunday, Swift fan accounts, noticing that its Taylor-obsessed followers were dutifully paying the closest attention they’ve perhaps ever given to a football game, began posting explanations of the sport’s rules on X, which I’m insufferably forced to now call the site formerly known as Twitter. It’s unclear whether or not this was a joke: “Okay…what’s a down? Is it like dropping the ball?” read one reply. Regardless, it’s tempting to mock the seriousness with which this NFL 101 social-media seminar was treated.

But the laugh’s on me: Even in the realm of a cultural force as preposterously gargantuan and influential as the NFL already is, Swift inspiring her fans to tune in to Kelce’s game made its reach improbably larger.

In her piece “Can Taylor Swift Force Girls to Care About Football?”, my colleague Helen Holmes ran through the impressive stats. The Chiefs game that Swift attended was the most-viewed of the week and the highest-rated among women in several key age demographics. And with Swifties comes dollars. In one day, sales of Kelce’s jersey jumped 400 percent.

With great power comes great responsibility. In response to that extreme spike in sales and viewership, questions arose as to whether Swift was being ethical with her financial influence—at least, from a pop-culture point of view. All over my social media timelines this past week, there were posts from people offering up what they wished Swift would throw her commercial power toward, instead of a football player who, as the TikTok husbands assured me, is already quite successful.

“Date Carly Rae Jepsen next,” posted one user, championing pop’s most underappreciated queen. “If Taylor Swift went to a Broadway show she could single-handedly save the theatre industry,” wrote another. Watch women’s tennis. Be photographed with a Tinashe CD. The pleas even became jokingly political: The impact that the star riding public transit could have! Endorse Medicare for All! Save print newspapers! And of course: “Can we get a video of Taylor Swift attending the melting down of an assault rifle?”

Each of these posts made me laugh. But they also made me wince a bit. They’re bleak proof of just how preposterous, in ways both good and bad, the Swifties influence can be.

The ludicrousness of that influence became clear when an essay by right-wing pundit Mark Hemingway resurfaced this week, entitled, “Taylor Swift’s Popularity Is a Sign of Society’s Decline.” (Reasons include: She is childless, unmarried, and her music suggests to other women that this is OK. Good stuff.) The wonderfulness of that influence became clear when one of Swift’s Instagram posts led to 35,000 people registering to vote. And the silliness of that in fluence became clear when we all started talking about “seemingly ranch” dressing.

What began as an innocuous post amid the spate of attempts from various social media accounts to breathlessly chronicle every single detail of Swift’s trip to the Chiefs game has metastasized into one of those viral jokes that far outstayed its welcome. “Taylor Swift was eating a piece of chicken with ketchup and seemingly ranch!” the account @tswifterastour posted, complete with an alarm emoji. An initial bemusement with the phrase “seemingly ranch” quickly became a cultural preoccupation.

Too many brands made jokes about it to even list here. The Empire State Building’s official account quipped that the landmark’s red-and-white lighting this week was in honor of “ketchup and seemingly ranch.” And the thing that broke me: Heinz announced a limited-edition condiment inspired by the tweet.

It’s natural to suspect that this dating match-up is a publicity stunt, especially when the result of Swift being spotted at the game was…all of this publicity. (Let’s not forget that Swift’s Eras Tour concert film hits theaters later this month.) But that may also be unfair, as this level of attention related to anything Swift does can’t be helped or prevented; this week proved it. Trust me, I’ve tried to escape the relentless news coverage of her and Kelce’s latest moves. It’s impossible.
Reports are that she’ll be at his game again this week. OK? I don’t need to know her weekend plans. Much like most celebrity relationships or, lately, divorces and breakups, it all amounts to a whole lot of “this is not my business.” I feel steadfast in that opinion, and I will repeat it to myself each and every time I click on a new headline, article, and tweet, because I will be reading all of them.

This Is So Important to Me

There is one perfect reality show.

For a full decade, from 2003-2013, we were blessed to have Stacy London and Clinton Kelly host What Not to Wear on TLC. This was when TLC was the girlie on the cable lineup. It had Trading Spaces. It had Jon and Kate Plus 8. And it had What Not to Wear.

If you have seen What Not to Wear, you have seen every single episode, because TLC would air it in hours-long marathon blocks—along with what must have been some sort of hypnosis spell, because if you watched one, you were physically compelled to watch all 20 that aired in a row.

The premise was simple. Everyday people—as in actual everyday people, not the reality-TV thirsty ones that appear on current shows—are nominated by friends or family to have their wardrobe updated. Like Queer Eye, the makeover typically is accompanied by an emotional confidence transformation. And hosting these magical episodes were Stacy and Clinton, a straight-shooting, quirky fashionista and her (unspokenly) gay and fabulous counterpart.

Stacy and Clinton bickered. They teased each other. And they got results. These makeovers were fantastic; when the client’s loved ones would see the transformation and laugh and cry, you would laugh and cry along with them. (My Aunt Colleen was in one of these episodes—as a supporter, not the fashionably tragic subject! I have never thought of someone I knew as more of a celebrity.)

Why any of this is news is that, after 2013, Stacy and Clinton disappeared. Why!? To where!? It turns out, they’ve been semi-quietly, semi-publicly feuding for the past decade. (Clinton wrote about it in his book, released in 2017) But, this week, the duo appeared together on Today to tell us all that they’ve made amends. They’re now going on tour together to talk about how they got through their drama. Our long national nightmare is over!

What I love about this seemingly slight news story is that, for one, it was an occasion to remember the simpler, endlessly entertaining time before reality TV was such a lightning-rod medium and you could just spend an entire weekend on a couch watching a woman get highlights and pick out smart blazers that complement her shape. But it’s also, in tandem to that, a testament to healing.

If you watch the Today interview, you’ll see how frank Stacy and Clinton are about the conflicting feelings they each had about each other and their success, and the burden-freeing reasons why they decided to work through that. Like their show a decade ago, their banter proves to be therapeutic. Now all I need is for them to help me find a great day-to-night smart pair of jeans.

Get Andy and a Camera

This week’s episode of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was everything you’d expect from a great installment of chaotic reality TV. The climax of the episode involved six women who were borderline blackout drunk screaming at each other at a gay bar in Palm Springs about disabled children and $60,000 rings while wearing 40-pound Dolly Parton wigs.

And yet the most captivating part of the episode was the one woman who decided not to go to the bar; the woman who, while all this was happening, the cameras continued to follow as the production’s driver drove her to McDonald’s and she ate it in the car. I don’t know what it is about Mary M. Cosby that makes even this—and even while all those hysterics were going on—captivating viewing, but I almost want this to be its own spinoff.

Let’s follow Mary M. Cosby as she goes through airport security. While she waits in line for a prescription at CVS. While she looks out her window waiting for her Uber Eats driver to arrive.

Emmy Award incoming.

The Next Great Adventure

While I am disgusted by all things Voldemort (as in, JK Rowling) in recent years, the truth is that I am a Potthead. I love the Harry Potter books, the movies, the amusement park—all of it. And so it was quite emotional to hear that Michael Gambon, who played Dumbledore in The Prisoner of Azkaban and all subsequent films in the franchise, died this week.

There is so much on Gambon’s film resume to applaud, but, to be basic for a minute, there was just something so special about the way he played Dumbledore. Something like “magic” should be intangible, yet, somehow, he harnessed it in his every glance. The camera would train in on his eyes and—I don’t know how—they would twinkle. Not CGI twinkle. It was wizardry. It was a thrill for us Harry Potter fans to witness that.

Exciting?

This cast is great, just like the casts of all these movies are great. (Book Club hive, where you at?) But, really, all we want is a First Wives Club 2.

More From The Daily Beast’s Obsessed

It’s more popular than ever to see someone’s penis before you go on a date with them. Read more.

Yes, we cried watching the opening minutes of The Golden Bachelor. Read more.

Reservation Dogs, one of the best shows of the modern era, just wrapped. Here’s why it mattered. Read more.

Saw X: One of the best installments in the entire franchise. (Now in theaters.)

Gen V: The Boys is one of the most fun shows on TV, and this spinoff is on par. (Now on Prime Video)

Special Forces: World’s Toughest Test: This cast is as bonkers as the challenges they’re forced to compete in. (Now on FOX)

The Creator: This was supposed to mark the future of non-Marvel blockbusters. The catch is: It’s a dud. (Now in theaters)

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