My comfort classics: Meg Ryan, Rory Gilmore, & Taylor Swift

6/27/2023

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About the "Coffee Talks" series

Through these refreshing posts (hopefully paired with your favorite caffeinated beverage), I share anecdotes, fun facts, and reflections from my life away from the classroom. So, imagine we are sharing a conversation over coffee (I’ll have an iced chai with oat milk) – you choose the place. I’ll provide the topic.

I find comfort in rewatching the same shows (and movies) over and over. I am currently on my fifth rewatch of Gilmore Girls: a classic early 2000s rom-com, small-town, mother-daughter show filled with quirky but heartwarming characters with names like Suki and Kirk. Whenever I start the series again, I can't help but smile at the sight of a young Lauren Graham trying to order her sixth cup of coffee from the grumpy yet lovable Luke Danes.

The events follow a predictable sequence: first love, teenage arguments, graduations, poor decisions, making amends, and repeating the cycle. Quick banter and witty dialogue from the iconic duo (Lorelai and Rory) fill the hours, and I daydream of moving to a town with Babbette, Morey, and their gnome family as my next-door neighbors.

I spend many summer evenings watching movies curled up in bed after a tiring work day. When I am in the mood for something new, I take 30 minutes to look through my subscribed channels in search of new movies to add to my collection. (I have always wanted to watch all the Star Wars or Lord of the Rings movies; maybe I will finally get around to them one day!). About half the time, these scrolling sessions result in a pleasurable viewing experience. The Woman King instantly became a favorite, but Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom, was gravely disappointing due to racist and problematic themes.

However, after preparing dinner and settling under the warm covers, I just want something easy – a movie I know I will thoroughly enjoy without distractions. I think everyone has their selection of go-to movies. My shelf heavily features 90s romantic comedies: When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail, and Notting Hill, etc. Call me a romantic, but I adore the predictable storyline of this genre: two opposing characters morph from enemies to friends to lovers; they fall out only to eventually be hit with an epiphany and then proceed to reconcile in the final few minutes.

As I watch these films again, memories of my parents' commentary come rushing back. When viewing You’ve Got Mail, for example, they exclaimed: “Oh wow, look at the old computers! That’s how we did email back then.” (Which was followed up by a story from their pre-internet days.) I built my memories around the familiar characters, dialogue, and scenery. I related to Kathleen Kelly’s whimsical pursuit to protect her beloved children's bookstore against the wicked Fox Books chain. I hope to visit the bustling Seattle fish market and houseboat communities featured in Sleepless in Seattle. And I never tire of Billy Crystal’s improvised dialogue in When Harry Met Sally: “Waiter, there is pepper in my paprikash.”

I crave the same familiarity with Taylor Swift and other nostalgic playlists. My childhood in the early 2000s introduced me to "Fireflies" by Owl City, which played at a fourth-grade dance, "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black-Eyed Peas, and all the cheesy Disney Channel stars. (even though I did not have cable TV growing up). Throughout my life, I have associated specific periods with familiar voices, lyrics, and eras. Just as Rory Gilmore prepared me to enter college and the heartbreaking-yet-relinquishing release from my hometown, Taylor Swift prepared me for the relationship rollercoasters, emotional growth, and identity-altering epiphanies of high school.

When I was little, I wistfully dreamed of living on my own, but now I relate to the lyrical sentiment Taylor expressed in “Never Grow Up”:

"So here I am in my new apartment
In a big city, they just dropped me off
It's so much colder than I thought it would be
So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on.”

As an emerging adult and college graduate, I feel expectations to be firmly independent – to relinquish all dependency on others, and to figure out all of my problems and crises on my own. I suppose that's the expectation for my twenties as an American. As I venture abroad --planting my stumbling feet in pure, exhilarating novelty-- I anticipate feeling a confusing blend of loneliness and liberation. However, I ground myself through nostalgic songs of my childhood: “Fifteen,” “The Best Day,” . . .basically the entire Fearless album.

I belong to a generation of “Swifties” that grew up with Taylor; her voice and musical tone matured while we graduated high school and fostered our individuality. Maturity is chaotic; everything instantaneously and simultaneously changes without warning. Friends celebrate their engagements, announce jobs in new cities, and achieve foreign milestones; I move into a new house while pursuing my post-university purpose. So, you may understand why I desperately seek out quiet, calm, and familiarity. My “Favorites” Playlist is now a majority of indie, folk songs. The repetitive, cliché pop chorus has been replaced by soft, narrative themes.

A classmate recently told me –fittingly over coffee– that I “like consistency, but I seek it on my own terms.” (That is one thing I love about conversations over coffee; they often are catalysts for self-actualization.) In other words? I inconsistently seek out consistency. Confusing, right? For example, I often rewatch my favorite shows and movies, but I fear settling. I hold on tightly to nostalgia and childhood memories to comfort myself through overwhelming change.

I turn twenty-two in less than a month. Appropriately, I found solace in Taylor Swift’s upbeat young woman anthem, “22,” which explores the confusingly contradictory emotions of this age. “We’re happy, freaked, confused, and lonely in the best way” is a perfect slogan for my early 20s. Taylor's lyrics have served as reliable companions during personal struggles, heartbreaks, achievements, joyful moments, and significant life inquiries. And that is why, when life feels miserable and magical, I will always turn to childhood nostalgia and hit “play."

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