Suddenly the stage lights start flashing, the music starts pumping and everyone around me starts jumping and screaming. I can’t help but join in this frenzied blur. If I thought it was loud before, the volume of screaming now makes my whole body vibrate.
“Harrrrryyyyyyyy, I love you,” I hear my daughter scream. And it’s not just her. Everyone is screaming. Like a meerkat, I try to peer over all the phones lighting up the night sky. OMG! There he is! Harry, shining in a yellow and blue Gucci suit with large silver sequins. Even more eye-catching are his cheeky smile and his swagger as he makes his way across the stage.
“Harry strides, struts, spins, then stops and talks to a fan about her cat! She shares her screen-saver photo of Pudding with 85,000 people.”
“Hiiiiiii Harry! Hellloooooo!” I’m aware it’s my voice I can hear joining the screams. I wave my hands madly in the air, accidentally banging the top of someone’s phone. My mosh-pit companion doesn’t mind. She laughs with me as we’re caught up in this crazy moment together.
Everyone apart from me knows the words to every song. As they scream, spin and jump with each track, the exhilaration and fun are infectious and I must join in. My baked potato poncho is soon scrunched up with my daughter’s raincoat and the mauve-feathered jacket I’ve been wearing underneath starts looking a little wilted from all the excitement.
Harry strides, struts, spins, then stops and talks to a fan about her cat! She shares her screen-saver photo of Pudding with 85,000 people. Could this man get any better? He’s putting the spotlight on cats! He also helps a young woman come out to her family. Love, acceptance and celebration roar through the stadium. I get it, I see why Harry Styles is so special to so many people. And how he’s created a movement of “Harries”, a term I’ve learnt from my new-found friends.
Once the screaming is over and Harry vanishes into the night, the kindness and joy are still viral as we wait patiently to get onto the platform and then into a crammed train.
A young woman sits on the floor and takes off her muddied white boots. Rifling through her shimmering purse, she pulls out three phone chargers. One has some battery power left; she hands it to my daughter so she can relive precious moments.
I reckon I could call myself a part of the “Harries” if it means belonging to this special sisterhood.
For all the latest Life Style News Click Here
For the latest news and updates, follow us on Google News.