“I love both the reality and the meaning of Madonna.” A special guest post by Dr Paul Taylor-Pitt on how Madonna has inspired him to live “a deliberate, provocative and vivid life” of reinvention and celebration.
Gentle reader: It is my honour and pleasure to be able to present a guest blog post to you today, penned by my lovely friend Dr Paul Taylor-Pitt. A few months ago, Paul wrote some quite wonderful words about a pivotal moment in his life, the day that he first saw Madonna in concert in 1990. Madonna has meant countless things to countless people over the past 40 years. For Paul, Ms Ciccone has been an inspiration and a kind of guiding force, always there for him, yet always changing, always evolving. Last month, I was delighted to see Paul share Instagram photographs and videos from the opening night (at London’s O2 Arena) of Madonna’s latest tour, entitled The Celebration Tour. I asked Paul if he might fancy jotting down some thoughts about that celebratory concert, and about the ways in which both he and Madonna might have changed and/or not changed over the 33 years between his first time seeing her and his most recent. Paul was so kind as to accept my invitation.
As with everything Paul writes, his reflections on Madonna are warm, witty, deeply human and very moving. Some of what he has written here resonated with me to such an extent as to bring tears to my eyes. If you don’t already have the delight of knowing Paul, I would recommend you follow him on both Instagram and Threads.
Here is what Paul has written, inspired by that October 2023 Madonna show…
Dr Paul Taylor-Pitt: I’ll never be the same because of you
When the Queen died in 2022, I was surprised to hear stories of people feeling like they’d lost a family member. “The nation’s grandmother”, they said. It’s an example of what’s called a parasocial relationship, where someone believes they know a person and invests huge energy into them, despite the focus of their attention having no idea of their existence. I became fascinated with The Queue, watching people unsure of how to act in front of a coffin they’d waited twenty four hours to walk past. To me, the Queen represented duty, conformity and tradition, none of which I particularly ever aspired to. When the Queen walked into a room, people were expected to act in a certain way. I wondered, without the Queen, who would remind us to behave?
When the news broke this summer that Madonna was in hospital with a serious bacterial infection, after being found unresponsive in her home, I immediately understood why people reacted the way they did to the Queen’s passing. I’ve followed Madonna’s career for four decades. Her face has adorned my walls and her voice taken more space in my ears than many of my actual family. I’ve been to every concert tour since 1990 and in the same room as her more than once, despite never actually meeting. I love both the reality and the meaning of Madonna. To me she represents freedom, unconformity and rebellion. Things I have grasped with since childhood.
My parents, despite being very not well off, paid £20 for my ticket to see Madonna’s Blond Ambition Tour and shipped 16 year old me to London for the day. Watching the show felt like a dream. Scenes from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, West Side Story and the red velvet bed that would lead the Pope to excommunicate Madonna from the Catholic Church were all happening in front of my eyes. Vanity Fair magazine published a Madonna interview with the quote “my drive in life is from this fear of being mediocre”, which I adopted as my mantra. After the concert my life felt changed and I was determined not to stay in Scotland and follow the path expected of me. Having recently come out, I knew I could not truly be myself if I remained in Aberdeen. So despite it breaking my mum’s heart, the following year I moved to London and at 17, began my first reinvention.
Always looking to what’s new
My learning-to-adult years were pretty mediocre if I’m honest. I followed a fairly traditional career path and struggled to find my niche. I’m not sure I even knew I could have a niche. Like Madonna’s Erotica to Evita years, I couldn’t quite decide who I wanted to be. I suffer from a pretty powerful anti-reflection affliction, always more interested in my next thing than
my last. I am a firm believer in the power of reinvention, as highlighted by my marathon running phase, or my wedding photographer era. I’ve had the yoga phase and the doctorate studies. I’m always looking to what’s new. I definitely kept my head facing forward as I put more distance between the self I was in Scotland and the me I wanted to be.
When my Mum died, a week after the opening night of Madonna’s Sticky & Sweet Tour in 2008, I felt like a grown up for the very first time. My Mum had struggled with alcohol dependency since my teens and our relationship was turbulent to say the least. While I was devastated at her passing, I also felt freedom. I no longer had to hide the shame and embarrassment I felt for twenty years. Growing up as the child of an alcoholic falls somewhere in the weird space between behaving and misbehaving. Boundaries are blurred. Roles are reversed. Fun turns to fear very quickly. At the same time, it instilled in me an independence and capability that has served me well. My way through a chaotic home life was to re-commit to the promise I would never be mediocre, Madonna whispering in my ear, motivating me to do better; get out; be something.
Our legacy is not our future
As I rapidly approach a new decade of my life, turning 50 in December, in some ways I haven’t changed much since then. I’m still overly earnest and take myself way too seriously. I never used to think of myself as fun when I was a kid, and that hasn’t shifted. Instead I think I’ve grown myself very deliberately. Madonna’s mother died when she was young, whereas I was 35 when I lost mine. The time between then and now was initially an act of survival, forming some beautiful scars, and ultimately bringing me to a place now where I cherish life. I’m still here and so is Madonna, back on tour celebrating four decades of her career. I was fortunate to be there on opening night last month, standing around a metre away as she performed the soundtrack to my life. I don’t think either of us is particularly nostalgic so I was surprised that Madonna was doing the greatest hits thing. She has always struck me as someone who looks forward. I’ve often worried that if I look back too often I’ll become trapped in my own story.
The Celebration Tour in fact reminded me that you don’t have to be swallowed by your past. Madonna sings the songs that made her a star but she does it from a safe distance. She stands outside of her history, narrating her own story and bringing the audience alongside instead of sweeping us away. It shows us that our legacy is not our future. For many years I worried that I was destined to go down the same path as my Mum and crash my life against the rocks. Or rather on the rocks. Many years ago my husband reminded me that I had a choice. He told me that my narrative was uniquely my own, and that I could write my own story. That I had everything going for me and was not doomed to repeat the mistakes of my family. Hearing those words gave me agency and power. I knew I could be more, do more and feel more. The time since my Mum’s death has been the making of me.
Of course I wish she was here to celebrate my 50th with me. She died at 53, so I feel fortunate that I am in a very different place to where she was at my age. I am determined to live my life thoughtfully, with kindness. Escaping Aberdeen saved my life. Madonna, although she does not know I exist, is my parasocial guardian angel. When the media and her manager talked this year as if she may not leave hospital alive, I immediately wondered who would remind me to misbehave? I want to continue to reinvent myself, living a deliberate, provocative and vivid life. The first half of our lives sometimes feels like it happens to us. For my second act, in the time before unexpected illnesses, sudden deaths and long goodbyes, I want to face life on my terms, not being defined by what people want me to be. That is something deserving of a celebration.
Images
- All photography on this page by Dr Paul Taylor-Pitt.
MJCarty 