Once upon a time, pop superstardom was measured in moonwalks, MTV premieres, and outfits outrageous enough to make headlines. Michael Jackson didn’t just sing Billie Jean — he made a sequinned glove a global relic. Madonna’s cone bra wasn’t lingerie, it was a cultural grenade. Bowie wore androgyny like armour, and Prince turned lace and leather into royal regalia.
These icons proved early that music alone doesn’t make an empire; it takes spectacle, styling, and most importantly, fans who scream, faint, and later, stan.
From the shrieking Beatlemaniacs of the ’60s — twisting and shouting so loud the band could barely hear themselves play — to Madonna’s lace-clad devotees of the ’80s, to Britney Spears’s turn-of-the-millennium teen hysteria, stardom has always been a duet between star and spectator. The Beatles, after all, sparked a template for pop devotion so feverish it still echoes in fandoms today. Decades later, Justin Bieber’s Beliebers turned a YouTube discovery into a global phenomenon, proving that organised fan armies could launch careers before record labels did. Then came One Direction in 2011 — and with them, ‘Direction Infection’, the kind of boyband fever that spread likewildfire across continents, selling out stadiums in minutes.
By the 2010s and 2020s, fandom was supercharged. Popstars no longer simply dropped albums — they released eras. Fans didn’t just buy CDs; they orchestrated streaming parties, decoded nail polish colours as hidden messages, and crowdfunded birthday billboards in Times Square or Seoul. The emotional payoff of finally securing a ticket — after blood, sweat, tears, and a few nervous breakdowns in online queues — turned concerts into sacred pilgrimages.
Super fandom today thrives on para-social connections, where artistes and followers exist in a perpetual feedback loop, their intimacy curated on Instagram stories and livestreams. It’s not new, though: back in the 19th century, Brontë devotees flocked to Haworth hoping for a glimpse of the sisters’ world, collecting scraps of paper and locks of hair much like today’s fans treasure signed merch or selfies. The difference now is scale. The Internet turned community into currency, TikTok turned aesthetics into mass movements, and fashion became the battlefield where identity, loyalty, and spectacle collide. In 2025, pop royalty is no longer just about who tops the charts — it’s about who can command both the playlist and the moodboard.
The Age of Fandom
How digital armies, para-social intimacy, and fan activism turned celebrities into movements.
Taylor Swift: The Era Architect
The engagement post of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce literally broke the Internet and it is not a surprise considering the number of public heartbreaks the artiste has been through. After performing in Singapore, the country reported a year-on-year growth of 2.7 per cent for the first quarter of 2024. All of this and more because Taylor curates eras, moodboards and a state of mind. She doesn’t just change outfits; she changes epochs. Sundress Taylor gave way to Red Lipstick Taylor, who evolved into Cottagecore Cardigan Taylor, before shimmering into Sequin Bodysuit Stadium Taylor. Her fans — the Swifties — aren’t just listening; they’re scrutinising every detail, from her lyrics to her jewellery choices. If she so much as breathes near a typewriter in a promo shoot, Swifties will speculate it’s a hint of a Midnights sequel.
Of course, Taylor is known for dropping Easter Eggs — subtle hints of forthcoming albums, songs, or collaborations — in every public appearance. Her infamous VMA showdown with Kanye West saw her trolled online, followed by his release of Famous, featuring the lyric, “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex / Why? I made that b***h famous”, which led to #TaylorIsASnake trending on Twitter (X) in 2016.
So what did Taylor do? She went off social media, deleted all posts, unfollowed everyone, and returned a year later on Instagram with pictures of snakes — a subtle nod that blossomed into the Reputation Stadium Tour. The tour famously opened with a giant animatronic snake named Karen.
Over time, Taylor has given a masterclass in navigating controversies, transforming public scrutiny into creative fuel. She has emerged as an inspiring figure for teenagers and young adults facing heartbreak, bullying, or social exclusion — proving that reinvention, resilience, and self-expression can turn even the harshest public backlash into triumph.
More than merch, Swift sells belongings. Each era has its wardrobe, and fans dutifully replicate it, whether through Etsy cardigans or Reputation era snake rings. In Swift’s world, fandom isn’t passive — it’s participatory theatre.
BTS: The Army That Wears Dior
No fandom embodies mobilisation like BTS’s ARMY. They’ve funded charities, topped charts through coordinated streaming, and probably have a better command structure than most governments. But their power isn’t just digital — it’s sartorial. When Jimin dons Dior or Jungkook sports Calvin Klein, sales spike. A BTS outfit is not just styling, it’s a rallying cry. The septet set the world record for attracting the most viewers for a concert live stream during the pandemic. It became the fan-voted Top Social Artist, with more than 300 million votes, at the 2017 Billboard Music Awards ending Justin Beiber’s six-year streak.
With the rise of BTS, Korean outfits, food, aesthetics and an entire lifestyle has been propelled to limelight and not just in India. While their cleanshaven faces, baggy clothes and killer dance moves make millions go awww, their conversational skills, chivalry and friendship also set goals.
BTS taught the West that fandom isn’t just screaming teenagers; it’s a disciplined global force that can move stock prices, Billboard charts, and fashion houses all at once.
Ariana Grande: The Mini Dress as Iconography
Sometimes, you do not need to reinvent every year; sometimes, you just need a good silhouette and a loyal ponytail. From hits like God Is A Woman and 7 Rings, to amassing millions of followers, Ariana Grande isn’t just a pop star — she’s a phenomenon sculpted as much by her fans as by her own voice. From her Nickelodeon days as the quirky Cat Valentine, to filling arenas worldwide, she’s built a universe where music, personality, and style collide, and her fans — the Arianators — are the engine driving it all. They stream her songs instantly, dissect every video, and turn moments of heartbreak or tragedy, like the Manchester bombing, into collective acts of love and solidarity, hashtags flying across social media like digital candles.
But it’s not just about devotion — it’s about desire, identity, and image. Her high ponytail, cat-ears, and carefully curated stage outfits are instantly recognisable symbols, a playful but commanding fashion language that speaks to confidence, femininity, and a kind of aspirational fun. Every album, every look, every video is a performance, yes, but also a conversation with millions of fans who emulate her, celebrate her, and in some ways, co-create her legend. Channeling femininity is Ariana’s forte and she learnt that much early in her career.
Fashion as Rebellion
When clothes become storyboards for reinvention, rebellion, and cultural permanence.
Lady Gaga: Fashion as Weapon, Fandom as FaithBefore TikTok, before memes, there was Lady Gaga — arriving at the 2010 VMAs in a dress made of raw beef.
It upset PETA, the Vegetarian Society but Gaga maintained that it was a statement against the erosion of people’s rights.
Either way, it was one of the biggest statements on a red carpet and garnered numerous headlines. For Little Monsters (Gaga’s fans), Gaga’s outlandish costumes weren’t costumes at all — they were validation slips to be oneself, to express and to be unapologetically authentic.
She blends outrageous red-carpet ensembles with pop-culture references — Batman-inspired gowns, Elizabethan McQueen pieces, and multi-layered Met Gala theatrics — all while keeping her message clear: fashion is her way of expressing music, politics, and identity. Lady Gaga doesn’t follow trends — she creates them, making each outfit a conversation starter, a challenge to the ordinary, and a reason why she remains one of the most influential and iconic style figures of our time.
Billie Eilish: Rebellion in Oversize
Since her breakout hit Ocean Eyes at just 14, she’s refused to conform, performing in baggy, oversized streetwear long before it became part of her signature style. Billie Eilish’s neon-green hoodies and baggy shorts were less fashion, more manifesto: a refusal to be objectified as a teen star. Fans wore the same oversized fits as armour, making anti-style into style.
Then came that Vogue cover: Billie in corsets and stockings. Twitter combusted. Betrayal? Empowerment? The discourse raged, but Billie emerged with her fandom intact, proving that the true rebellion is changing when people least want you to. Her live shows — from Coachella 2019 where she debuted as one of the youngest headliners, to her record-breaking Happier Than Ever world tour — shimmer with raw energy rather than overproduced spectacle. Unlike other pop stars who rely on polished glamour or conventional theatrics, Billie commands attention with intimacy, whisper-like vocals one moment and guttural power the next.
Beyonce: The Queen in Couture
Beyonce doesn’t dress, she curates legacy. From the Single Ladies leotard to the disco-horse glamour of Renaissance, every look is deliberate, every stitch part of the mythos. The BeyHive doesn’t decode her clothes so much as canonise them.
Unlike most stars, Beyonce doesn’t tweet back fans. She doesn’t have to. The Hive defends her, amplifies her, and ensures every couture moment echoes for years. Her fashion is sovereignty; her fandom, the court that enforces it.
The Runway Goes Pop
When fandom merges with high fashion, and luxury houses play tug-of-war with fan loyalty.
Rihanna: From Stage to Fenty
Rihanna may not have released an album in years, but her Navy hardly noticed — they were busy shopping. Savage x Fenty shows became pop spectacles, her lingerie drops sparked hysteria, and Fenty Beauty turned into an industry disruptor. Rihanna blurred the line between popstar and mogul, making her fans not just consumers of her image but customers of her empire.
In her case, fashion isn’t a sidekick — it is the first note.
Harry Styles: Pearls, Gucci, and the New Masculinity
The former One Directioner rebranded himself not just as a solo musician but as a couture muse. His Gucci campaigns, pearl necklaces, and frilly blouses redefined pop masculinity in sherbet shades. The Harries embraced his gender-fluid looks, attending concerts in feather boas and sequins, effectively turning the pit into a runway.
Where Swift builds eras and BTS mobilises armies, Harry builds ideology: a world where masculinity can wear chiffon and still sell out Madison Square Garden. His evolution from teen heartthrob to a fashion muse who constantly challenges the norms offers space for millions of his fans respite from conforming to gender norms.
BLACKPINK: Couture Queens of Global Pop
Jennie, Lisa, Jisoo, Rose: each a global ambassador for a luxury house. Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Dior, Saint Laurent — BLACKPINK isn’t just a band, it’s a fashion week guest list. BLINKS, their fandom, translate every outfit into TikToks, memes, and shopping lists. In fact, the massive virality that turned Labubu into a craze — bringing everything from figurines to keychains into local shops — was first sparked by Lisa.
If the Beatles had mop tops, BLACKPINK has couture. And they’ve weaponised it globally, proving that in K-pop, music and fashion are not separate industries — they’re two halves of the same choreography.
Sabrina Carpenter: Espresso, Sequins, and TikTok Fandom
Then there’s Sabrina Carpenter, the freshest entry on this list.
Espresso wasn’t just a song — it was a vibe, complete with sequinned micro-dresses and Y2K silhouettes. TikTok turned her into a global headliner overnight, her outfits spawning memes and fashion inspo boards with alarming speed. She made her short and petite identity into an entire tour and called it the ‘Short ‘n’ Sweet Tour’. She also recently released her new album, Man’s Best Friend, with a controversial album cover art where she kneels in front of a man.
If Madonna built an empire over decades, Sabrina condensed superstardom into a viral loop. Sequins, memes, and a caffeinated chorus — sometimes that’s all it takes in 2025.
The Bigger Picture
Pop music today is no longer sound-first. It is a symphony of fandom organisation and fashion storytelling. Swifties, ARMY, the Hive, BLINKS — they don’t just listen; they strategise, market, and replicate. A Taylor Swift stadium show boosts Singapore’s GDP, BTS ARMY funds charities in the band’s name, BLACKPINK turns Paris Fashion Week into a stan convention. Pop fans today are not background noise — they’re an infrastructure, a grassroots machine that makes and remakes cultural moments in real time.
Fashion, meanwhile, has become the grammar of music eras — shorthand for identity, power, and participation. A sequinned glove, a ponytail, a pink cowboy hat, or a pearl necklace can do as much for a star’s mythology as a platinum record. The clothes aren’t just worn; they are broadcast, decoded, and replicated on TikTok, Etsy, or Zara’s racks within weeks. Fashion is no longer a garnish — it’s the storyboard, the album cover, the thesis statement.
And yet, this merging of fandom and fashion is not without risks. The devotion that builds careers can just as quickly feel like surveillance. Billie Eilish slips into a corset and the Internet cries betrayal of her oversized-clothing manifesto. Taylor Swift dates too visibly or too often, and suddenly her songwriting is reduced to diary gossip rather than artistry, her life dissected by both critics and her own fans. Harry Styles embraces fluid dressing — pearls, skirts, boas — and half the Internet applauds his reinvention of masculinity while the other half accuses him of queerbaiting, demanding he either ‘prove’ his sexuality or retreat. Rosalía adopts flamenco-adjacent or Latin aesthetics and faces constant accusations of cultural appropriation, no matter how carefully she contextualises her work. In this climate, pop icons walk a runway of double-edged devotion: their every aesthetic shift, every outfit, every glance on a red carpet is analysed not just as fashion, but as confession, manifesto, or betrayal.
But the rewards? Empire-building. Rihanna turns her Navy into customers of a billion-dollar lingerie and beauty empire. Beyoncé performs in couture that is instantly museum-worthy. BTS moves stock prices with Dior partnerships. Harry Styles bends masculinity through Gucci and sequins and still sells out Madison Square Garden. These aren’t just musicians — they are cultural economies in themselves.
The truth is, the music still matters. It’s the spark, the opening note. But the blaze? That’s fandom and fashion, working in synchrony, amplifying each other until a popstar becomes something more than human — a myth, a moodboard, a movement. In the 2020s, a singer with just songs is exactly that: a singer. But with fans and fashion, they’re untouchable, immortalised in hashtags, runway shows, and playlists alike.
Pop today is less a song in the club and more a religion in sequins — preached in arenas, prayed through playlists, and canonised in closets. Music may be the melody, but it’s fashion and fandom that write the myth — stitching stars into something larger than life, louder than time.