BRYONY GORDON: Taylor Alison Swift has done the impossible in this deeply polarised age and united the generations - from Gen Z to Millennials and Boomers - in sparklingly spectacular glory. It is the best night of our lives…

As Taylor Swift blooms from within the petals of a giant flower into the middle of the stage at Murrayfield Stadium, it is difficult to know who is more excited: my 11-year-old daughter, by now covered head to toe in the very expensive Eras Tour merchandise we just queued an hour and a half for, or me, her 40-something mother covered in HRT patches.

Like around 95 per cent of the record-breaking audience, we are both covered in sequins. Indeed, it is unlikely that the home of Scottish rugby has ever seen anything quite like this before - 73,000 people, predominantly female, dressed in a variety of outfits so fabulous they make a Pride parade look understated.

As the sun pokes out from behind the clouds, the wind-whipped audience are transformed into human glitter balls, their clothes reflecting light off one another, a special effect almost as spectacular as the fireworks that will close the show, an epic three and a half hours later.

‘This is just the wildest way to welcome a lass to your city,’ beams the new Queen of the North, herself rocking the first of a number of sequined body suits. ‘I will be your host this evening. My name is Taylor.’

The noise can surely be heard all the way in the Outer Hebrides. And I am unashamed to say that quite a lot of it seems to be coming from me.

It’s a long time since I squealed like this at a concert. Almost 30 years, when I queued outside the London Arena to see Take That at the Smash Hits Poll Winners Party. I thought those days of singing along hysterically to a pop star were long gone, but then along came 34-year-old Taylor Alison Swift, a one-woman force of nature who has done the impossible in this deeply polarised age, and united the generations in sparklingly spectacular glory.

Here on the Eras Tour, there are no members of Gen Z, no Millennials, no Boomers. There is only one unified mass of Swifties. Small Swifties (those who, like my daughter, had not even been born when her fourth album, Red, came out in 2012), Single Swifties (people in their 20s who came of age for albums 1989 and Reputation), Smug Married Swifties (their favourite album is Lover), Seriously Exhausted Swifties (my demographic) and Senior Swifties (that’s those old enough to be Tay-Tay’s mum).

There’s also quite a few heavily pregnant Swifties, who aren’t going to let the prospect of going into labour put them off coming to see their queen.

‘I bought the tickets a year ago, so obviously had no idea that the concert would end up being around my due date,’ said one woman, whose bump was also dressed in sequins. ‘Obviously my husband was a little concerned about me coming, but I was willing to risk going into labour at Murrayfield if it meant I got to see the Eras Tour.’

Families had come together for a cross-generational night out. Sophie Bowyer, 30, had travelled from Leeds with her mother, Claire, 54, and her grandmother, Gillian, 82. Gillian had just had a hip replacement, but she wasn’t going to let a little thing like a new joint stop her from attending.

‘When Sophie asked me to come I was absolutely delighted,’ said Gillian, dressed in a Taylor T-shirt. ‘I love her music and I think it’s so brilliant she writes it all herself. She’s so inspiring, and I just think it’s wonderful to see so many generations of women coming together and lifting each other up.’

‘Some might say it’s a bit of a cult,’ laughed Sophie, ‘but actually it’s a community, built over 17 years. The atmosphere in here tonight is just incredible. I wasn’t worried about bringing my grandmother with her new hip because I knew that everyone would be so nice and supportive, and they have been, helping us get her up and down the stairs so she can have a bit of a dance.’

We all know, by now, that Swift creates miniature economies wherever her Eras Tour pops up. But she also creates miniature societies, where people are kind and happy and not at all bothered about having to queue for hours to get anything. It’s hard to imagine another group of fans taking the epically long lines to enter the stadium with such good grace, but for Swifties the camaraderie in the queues is as much a part of the experience as the concert itself. 

Women who have spent hours making Taylor-Swift themed friendship bracelets trade with each other, discussing which ‘eras’ they are most excited to see tonight. This is what lies at the heart of Swift’s global appeal: she is a recording artist, yes, but more than that, she is a sisterhood.

There are few men here tonight - so few that most of the men’s toilets in the stadium are repurposed for women - and many of the ones who are present wear shirts of the American football team the Kansas City Chiefs, emblazoned with the name of Swift’s boyfriend (and Chiefs player) Travis Kelce.

More often than not, men feel the need to question her popularity. When, last December, she was made Time’s Person of the Year, the internet was awash with people announcing that they didn’t get Swift, without ever for a minute considering the possibility that they aren’t meant to - that she exists for a vast swathe of people other than them. 

Swift understands her fans in a way that few others do. Her music, about heartbreak and embarrassment and shining bright when you just want to hideaway, speaks to millions of women who want to dance to songs that asks them to be themselves, rather than sexy or desirable. That she has done all this while refusing to line the pockets of the usual record company executives (to stymie the profits of a private equity firm, which owns her first six albums, she is painstakingly re-recording and re-releasing them) only makes her even more of a force of nature.

As the night wears on, something becomes very clear: a huge part of Taylor Swift’s success is that she genuinely loves her fans every bit as much as they love her. Gratitude radiates off every bejewelled costume she changes into. She acknowledges overwhelmed audience members who need help, and sends security their way; she congratulates a couple who get engaged during Champagne Problems. 

For 210 minutes, she does the impossible, and makes 73,000 sequined people of all ages feel as if she is speaking only to them. It is spectacular. It is epic. It is, my daughter and I both agree, the best night of our lives - and made all the more magical for getting to enjoy it together.