I Drank Espresso Martinis & Danced With Glittery Femmes at Sabrina Carpenter’s 'Short n’ Sweet' Tour
In 2019, my sister made me go to Ariana Grande’s Sweetener World Tour at Madison Square Garden, despite my having no vested interest in the pop princess (I’m a Gaga girl). But I left covered in glitter and a huge Ariana fan. Five years later, my sister managed to convert me again.
On Sunday, she had me accompany her to the Short n’ Sweet tour in the same arena to see a new pop girly who, just a few months ago, I also had no vested interest in; Sabrina Carpenter. But this time around, my sister prepped me: she demanded I listen to Carpenter’s new album (it’s great), made me a playlist on Spotify that mirrors the exact setlist (it’s fire), and sent me outfit inspiration so I didn’t embarrass her (I didn’t).
Though I walked into MSG already a burgeoning Carpenter fan, after seeing thousands of attendees in glittery Barbie-pink tops, diaphanous, cloud-blue dresses, big satin bows, sparkly barrettes, sheer pants, and cropped graphic tees, offering up a sea of unabashed femininity, I am now a superfan. A Carpenter, if you will.
From the moment I arrived, I knew it was going to be a special night. Though several other pop princesses have encouraged their fans to dress up for their shows, the Carpenters’ vibes are exceptionally impeccable. Before her set, my sister and I did a lap around the 200 level of MSG, clocking a teen girl in a pink structured corset with a heart-shaped cutout, a hetero couple in front of a hot dog stand donning matching outfits (the woman in a “not sweet” tee and the man in a “not short” one), and a shimmery, sky blue Fae-like creature holding a martini glass, rich brown liquid sloshing over the sides. “Is that a fucking espresso martini?” my sister asked. We immediately went searching and were sent back and forth to different bars, before finding the canned cocktails at a stand, sans glasses. “You girls can’t buy them until you finish your beers,” the older man chided us. We chugged our beers and loaded up on espresso martinis, which he poured into cups of ice (ew).
Though MSG is crowded and labyrinthine, everyone was excessively kind to each other—a far cry from the vibes of New York Rangers games, which is what usually brings me to the world’s most famous arena, and where I’m usually screaming expletives at opposing teams’ fans. My sister, dressed in an almost exact replica of one of Carpenter’s outfits from the “Taste” music video— a short white dress smeared with fake blood—gets stopped countless times for pictures. A young woman with braces shyly asks us both if she can take a picture in between us; her shirt reads “god bless your dad’s genetics,” a line from Carpenter’s “Juno.” “You both look so cool,” she says. Though I’m not in a full-blown costume like my sister, I am in an outfit befitting of the occasion: frilly black shorts with pink bows, a cropped tank that reads “High Maintenance” in rhinestones, elbow-length pink gloves, a pink wig, and fake Versace heels.
We eventually find our seats, and the show starts on time. Carpenter’s stage is reminiscent of a 1960s variety show put on in front of sold-out arenas—butter yellow baby doll dresses, heaps of glitter twinkling in the spotlight, a conversation pit shaped like a heart, blocky white cameras you’d see flanking The Beatles, bubbly font, and a video voiceover from a man who sounds like he served in Korea. It was like being transported to a version of the swinging sixties where feminism exists—and Carpenter’s sticky-sweet sexuality (that somehow never feels catered to the male gaze) only added to the unapologetic girliness of the entire night.
And the whole evening is like this: femme folks and queer people screaming compliments at each other, bemused dads getting dragged to the merch line by their pigtailed daughters, polite “excuse me” exchanged while walking up to seats or sidling past people in the bathroom. I have never been to a concert that felt so light, so bubbly, so happy. Carpenter’s set is lean, fast, and fun—she winks and blows kisses and playfully flirts with the crowd in a manner that feels like Tinkerbell and Marilyn Monroe had a love child, her crystal-clear voice singing about horniness, big dicks, and mean guys jerking off to Leonard Cohen lyrics with such innocence you almost forget what it is she’s saying.
Carpenter’s managed to craft an absolutely incredible brand promoting proud princess behavior, and the Short n’ Sweet tour is like a cotton candy-pink-and-blue shot of unapologetic girliness. If you can, nab tickets when the tour is in your town, it’s completely worth it. I think I floated home.