When I was 22, I traveled to Las Vegas with a clear mission in mind: I was going to see Britney Spears perform live.
It would not be my first time seeing the iconic pop star onstage, of course. I had seen her multiple times on both her Circus and Femme Fatale tours, paying over $300 a pop—a lot for concerts at the time—for my premium seats. But in 2014, Spears was doing a new residency at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas, and I knew I had to see it. The day of the show, my cousin Farren and I waited in line at the venue all day long, arriving early so that we could get a good standing spot with our general-admission tickets. When the doors opened, we bolted to the stage, ending up barely an arm’s length away from her as Spears later banged out “Toxic” right in front of eyes. We both agreed: Best day of our lives.
I’ve been a Britney stan since I was a kid: It all started when I was around seven and purchased a cassette tape of Spears’s first album, Baby One More Time. As a kid growing up in rural Canada, I was instantly obsessed with her sexy choreography, her cutesy outfits, and her club-worthy beats; they were unlike anything I had seen or heard before. I also liked that, as a Southern girl from McComb, Mississippi, she was a little bit country; coming from a small community, I could relate to her. I remember practicing my dance moves to “Baby” in our backyard for weeks, the song blaring from a pink boom box that I had begged my parents for.
My fandom only grew during my teenage years. In high school, I changed my computer screen saver to various images of Spears, constantly bought her merchandise (from tees to key chains to posters), and obsessively checked Perez Hilton’s tacky tabloid site for the latest paparazzi shots of her. During her well-documented public breakdown in 2007, I vehemently defended her as my friends and family mocked her mental health. Do you remember the viral YouTube video “Leave Britney Alone?” I debated making my very own and posting it to my Facebook page. That was my girl, and I was ready to fight for her. (To this day, I stand behind her infamous “Gimme More” performance at the 2007 VMAs. What other pop star could give you 20% effort but still deliver an iconic performance that people remember years later?)
Now, as a 32-year-old man, I still maintain a healthy Britney obsession. But I’ve begun to wonder: Am I too old to be a stan? My Slack icon at work is currently a frame from her “Slave 4 U” performance (with the snake) at the 1999 VMAs; the background of my iPhone—with which I also conduct important work business—is a paparazzi shot of Spears wearing a pink tote that reads “Bitchy.” I’ve read her powerful memoir, The Woman in Me, twice; I’ve heavily streamed every new song she’s released since being freed from her conservatorship, including the bizarre yet catchy “Mind Your Business”; and late at night, I’m known to occasionally rewatch her music videos and performances. Do I need a hobby?
I’m certainly not alone in my standom—even as an adult. These days, virtually every major celebrity has a pack of diehard fans—whether it’s the Beyhive, the Barbz, or the Swifties—and when these groups mobilize to defend their queen, their force can be terrifying. Spears’s B Army is as powerful an example as any, with members that will go after Justin Timberlake at any opportunity. (When he released a song called “Selfish” this year, Spears’s fans caused her 2011 song “Selfish” to rise on the charts—and ultimately pass his.)
Of course, sometimes modern standom can feel a little out of control. The new reigning pop star Chappell Roan recently weighed in on this, begging her fans to respect her and her loved ones’ personal (and professional) boundaries. “Predatory behavior (disguised as ‘superfan’ behavior) has become normalized because of the way women who are well-known have been treated in the past,” she wrote on Instagram. “Please do not assume you know a lot about someone’s life, personality, and boundaries because you are familiar with them or their work online.”
The statement resonated with me. I’m certainly old enough to know that celebrities like Chappell and, yes, Britney, are human beings who deserve privacy. It is embarrassing to objectify them—or, on the other hand, treat them like gods—when they are just doing a job, much like I am now.
Asking friends and colleagues if, as adults, they still stan any celebrities—and whether they feel as ashamed of it as I increasingly do—I was met with similar experiences.
“Like a lot of 20-something-year-old girls, I get much of my fashion inspiration from Hailey Bieber,” Molly Barstein, Vogue’s associate manager of audience development, tells me. “So much so that a few years ago I had one of her iconic street style looks set as the background of my phone. One afternoon after a Vogue event, I found myself alone in an elevator, and none other than Mrs. Bieber herself walked in. Within one second my phone lit up, and the light caught her attention. I am 99.9% certain that she clocked herself as the background of my phone, and I am 100% certain that she thought I was a creep.” Other friends who would prefer not to be named also shared their stories of obsessively stanning their favorite artists. We all know it’s weird and possibly unhealthy to do so—so why can’t we stop?
For one thing, I would argue that most of us are perfectly harmless; we aren’t stalking celebrities’ homes or sending them deranged fan letters. (If you are, please seek help.) The weirdest thing about us is how much joy we get from their art. Is that such a bad thing? Yes, having a Britney shrine in my home (I don’t, okay?) would be overkill—but listening to Blackout on my way to work every day isn’t a big deal, right? Some people collect cars, or spoons, or rare sports memorabilia; I simply listen to Britney. Plus, I’ve genuinely matured from my early stan years, and now refuse to engage with paparazzi pictures of—or any invasive content about—my beloved princess of pop. That’s the beauty of being an aging stan—your worship is slowly replaced with good, old-fashioned empathy. Just don’t tell my closet full of Britney tees.
