The first night I spent with Harry, it was a warm summer evening in London in June of 2022. The world was starting to re-open after the pandemic and I was keen on travelling overseas again. After all the isolation, I decided to head to a show at Wembley stadium, as a way to be together with 90,000 people — and Harry Styles.
Though I’d never actually been a ‘fan’ of, well, anyone, when I’d started listening to Styles’ music, I somehow became hooked. As a magazine creative director, I’m used to working with celebrity, though Harry, to me, is different. Instagram’s algorithm fed me all sorts of facts about Harry that I didn’t know I needed. My youngest daughter was leaving home for university, and so I booked myself a month in Europe.
My time in London was sunny and warm. I swam in the ponds of Hampstead Heath, down the road from the real Harry’s house (something I’d learned via Instagram that I did not seek to find out). I visited the Victoria & Albert museum, where a brilliant exhibition called Fashioning Masculinities showcased Harry’s blue Gucci dress worn for the cover of US Vogue. Then came my night at Wembley with Harry himself, which was nothing short of exhilarating – collective joy and collective sadness are powerful things to experience.
My month in Europe ended in July, in Paris. This is where I spent a second night with Harry. This concert was in a much smaller arena, and my last-minute ticket was positioned next to the stage. My fellow seat mates and I thought it was funny, and so did Harry, coming over to sing directly to us several times – amused by us being essentially side of stage. It was here he became real to me. I’m not sure if it was his being so close – witnessing his pre-concert idiosyncrasies – or our few shared moments of eye contact during the concert.
Harry would later release a grey marle merch t-shirt with a black and white photo of him that night on the Paris stage, singing to stage left. Was it one of the moments we looked at each other, caught in perpetuity? What I know is the energy he brought with his music, his voice ‘live’ and his ethos to ‘treat people with kindness’ became addictive. And so began my love on tour.
My third night with Harry was in November, in Los Angeles. I’d been in and out of L.A. for work but never had I been there for leisure. I stayed with friends and went to see Harry at the iconic Forum. I realised I was observing a very different concert culture to France and the UK, though all shared a combined love of Harry’s music and having a wonderful time. It was the camaraderie on the freeway after the show, in the gridlock, where Harry’s music began blasting and singalongs started from car to car that was an unexpected joy.
I had hired a car (essential when visiting L.A.) and cruised the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) to Malibu beach, visited Venice Beach, and shopped Abbot Kinney Boulevard. I went to the Getty Museum, visited the incredible Broad Museum that’s situated right next to Frank Gehry’s iconic Los Angeles Philharmonic building, and my friends took me to a gallery opening in West Hollywood. We had dinner with film director Whit Stilman, we hiked Runyon Canyon under the gaze of the Hollywood sign, we went to Gucci on Rodeo Drive to see Harry’s HAHAHA design collaboration in store. I also had coffee at the Beachwood café… the café made famous by lyrics in Harry’s song Falling. All these great experiences, and ones I experienced throughout the year, I somehow credited to Harry.
“Harry would later release a grey marle merch t-shirt with a black and white photo of him that night on the Paris stage, singing to stage left. Was it one of the moments we looked at each other, caught in perpetuity?”
In February 2023, Harry made his way to Australia. By this time, whenever Harry was mentioned, people thought of me. My fourth night with Harry was spent in Melbourne. I experienced him sing one of his favourite songs – and one of the greatest Aussie ballads – Horses. Magical.
I spent a further two nights with Harry in my hometown of Sydney, the first of which was on the concert floor. I hadn’t experienced a Harry concert from the floor, always opting for seated sections, but this time, with my daughter joining me, we decided to brave the crowd. When it was time to descend, we were somehow ushered to the front-floor area, where we made our way right up to the catwalk jutting out from the stage. Being up close and personal to the Satellite stomps (a dance he does to the bridge of one of my favourite songs), getting ‘baptised’ by the spray of his water bottle in the prelude to Kiwi, and just generally being in the thick of it was a whole new experience. I wasn’t afraid of the crush, just happy to be there. There was a definite ‘kindness’ in the air. On this side of the world, it was many fans’ first experience at one of his shows. The excitement was palpable.
Tokyo, in late March, was the seventh night I’d spend with Harry. I’d entered a lottery system to ‘win’ the chance of purchasing Harry tickets and was somehow selected at random, so purchasing a ticket seemed like it was meant to be. I not only got to experience one of the most beautiful times to see Tokyo – in the full bloom of Cherry Blossom season at Yoyogi Park in Shibuya, and on the canals of the Meguro River – but I also got to experience the beautiful and gentle way Japanese ‘Harries’ do concerts. It was only after Harry asked them to let loose and gave them ‘permission’ that they roared with their pent-up excitement.
The last night I spent with Harry was in his beloved Italy. It was July 2023 and the last concert of his Love on Tour shows. Over 100,000 people gathered in a remote little town, Reggio Emilia, in northern Italy. To close his final show, he composed and played a 10-minute piano piece, ending with fireworks. It was a gift for all of us to take a moment of reflection on an incredible tour ending – silencing the massive crowd (apart from the occasional fan sobbing).
Life was picking up again back home – work trips were also starting again and life was busy. I shot a cover from a mountain top I summited in Tasmania. I’d never scaled a mountain before and while listening to Harry, I trained. I also started dating again after a long time – the artist I met in L.A. at his gallery opening, and then something more long-term with a guy who worked in business and also played the guitar. He’d play the acoustic guitar version of Watermelon Sugar at the breakfast table for me. It was an awakening I totally credit to Harry. His music allowed me to embrace the prospect of falling in love again with my own reality. Harry was the soundtrack to a life lived fully.
After the tour ended, Harry took a rest. Sightings of him became rare and he was seen every now and then – riding a Lime bike, with a girlfriend, or running a marathon. Now, with a new album released, his new tour starting next month, I wonder if I will I spend another year with Harry? Will I actually meet Harry? I’m not sure that either really matter. Across four continents, six countries and eight concerts, I already got to have my year with Harry.
P.S. I‘ve managed to secure tickets to Harry’s very first concert of the Together, Together tour in Amsterdam this May (after being 53,403 in the ticket queue) … so, it appears, the story continues.
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