So basically after a series of somewhat unfortunate events I ended up being dragged (ok not exactly “dragged”) along to the One Direction concert in Brisbane’s Suncorp Stadium last night. Having only ever listened to the infamous That’s What Makes You Beautiful, my main attraction was not the music, but the one and only Harry Styles, who as I’m sure you can imagine is even more beautiful in person. My real aim however (aside from getting some new material for my 1D fanfiction, obvs) was to people watch and find out who exactly it is that goes to a One Direction concert. So here you are, the Top 5 Fans, as seen by me:
The Screaming Tween-age girls: This is obviously a given as they make up about 90% of the 1D fan-base and while I had readied myself for the screaming and the crying I was in no way prepared for the level of actual insanity that I witnessed. I was genuinely concerned that the mob mentality was going to lead to some sort of fight to the death in order to gain Liam’s attention. Luckily no such thing occurred, although I do think I may have some pretty permanent damage to my hearing.
Prowling cougars: The mum to dad ratio was actually completely off. While I had assumed that it was always the dads that got dragged along to supervise these sort of things, I soon realised why this was not the case for this particular concert. The MILFs were clearly there in the hope that one of the 1D boys were into cougars and wanted a little action after their big show. And oh were dressed accordingly. Their uniform almost always consisted of tight white jeans, jewel-encrusted Guess belts and hoop earrings almost big enough to distract you from their age. I actually witnessed one of these mums teaching her six-year-old how to gyrate her hips in a manner usually reserved for strippers.
The Disgruntled Dads: I was genuinely surprised at the general lack of dads, however the disgruntled-ness of the ones that I did see completely made up for their lack of representation. They were sweaty, they were angry, they hadn’t experienced this much oestrogen since they were in the womb. Their children were screaming, everyone was screaming and basically it was the worst punishment they could have possibly received for forgetting their wedding anniversary, again.
The Ashamed Hipsters: This was a group of people that I never expected to see. Girls that usually listen to Triple J and eat vegan and only use film cameras. But they were there, and they were clearly ashamed of their love for THE boy band of the century. I actually saw one particularly trendy girl that I know from uni with her head bowed in shame at the fact that she had finally given in and admitted defeat, abandoning any sort of indie cred at the door upon entry.
The Spoilt Toddlers: When I say toddlers, I am exaggerating only slightly because I legitimately saw a child there who could not have been older than three and who probably got taken to the concert as a reward for agreeing to finish her pureed pumpkin baby food. But mostly they were between the ages of 4 and 7 and dressed like they were going to a Pitbull concert. If there is such a thing as “lamb dressed as mutton” then this was it. These screaming children were decked out in their 1D crop tops, booty shorts and plastic Barbie heels. I saw one girl who I’m almost certain had been spray tanned for the occasion. These were generally the children of the cougars (see above) and in 30 years time they will probably be doing the exact same thing with their own little darlings.
At the end of the day I have to admit it was a genuinely fun concert. I have never felt so free of judgment in my life, knowing that nobody in that stadium was better than me because they too had chosen to come to a One Direction concert. Also Harry said he loved me (fans in general, but same same) and that’s really all that matters. Right?