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It’s going to be a random drop-in from a pop star, like the Taylor Swift Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes or something. The man’s name is Dave Schaeffer, and he has lived here with his wife, Debbie, for about six years.Taylor notices a man stepping into his car in the driveway. The man immediately gives what can only be described as a Holy crap–it’s–Taylor Swift look. He invites us to have a look around, and we all pile out.
It is the kind of quaint, Norman Rockwell–ian detail that sounds a bit too precious, too good to be true. Soon we arrive at a clearing with a barn and a small farmhouse. Taylor and Andrea have not made any calls or arrangements about visiting.Swift’s 2015 stare-down of Apple—she declined to put her hit album on Apple’s nascent streaming-music service when the company said it would not pay artists during its initial launch; Apple changed its policy immediately and paid everyone—was a seismic example of a single artist’s toppling corporate might.At 26, Swift is world famous, wealthy, critically celebrated, a style influencer, and a cultural movement unto herself, recognizable everywhere she goes. And yet today, in this chapel atop a hill in Reading, Pennsylvania, Swift is none of those things.She is the maid of honor at the wedding of her childhood friend Britany Maack.Swift and Maack have known each other since Swift was ten days old and have stayed close—there are grainy home videos of the two romping around a crib together and, more recently, photos of them sitting side by side at the 2014 Grammys.BY NOW YOU KNOW that the past few years have been extraordinary ones in the life of Taylor Swift.
Even if you have only casual knowledge of Swift’s music—there may be six or seven souls left on the planet who can’t sing all the words to “Shake It Off”—you’re aware that Swift has become not only one of the most successful recording artists ever, but also an unrivaled power broker who has prevailed in a volatile media economy and brought today’s music overlords to heel.
We pull up alongside, and Andrea rolls down her window. “This must really bring back some memories,” Dave says. She surveys the fields behind the driveway, which include a small grove of pine trees her parents once planted.
They now look tall enough for Christmas at Rockefeller Center. Just a few years back, Swift was so excited about relocating to New York City—it was the creative basis for —but when she’s in the city now, within a couple of days, there is a circus of photographers outside her apartment building. The wedding ceremony has finished—Britany and Ben made it official to applause—and Swift and I have huddled downstairs at the church during a break before the reception.
YES: I SHOULD NOTE that when we arrived at the farm, we were informed by a couple of Swift’s security people that there were at least a trio of uninvited photographers who had followed us to the location to catch some hot, sexy farm-visit action. (“Her not being creative is one of the last things I’d ever worry about,” the musician and producer Jack Antonoff tells me later.) “I’m always going to be writing songs,” Swift says.
“The thing is, with me, I could very well come up with three things in the next two weeks and then jump back into the studio, and all of a sudden the next record is started.
“When you’re a little kid, you’re riding the same roads to school every single day, hundreds of times.