Paris Paloma cast spells of sisterhood in Philly

Paris Paloma brought “The Fatal Flaw Tour” to Philadelphia’s Franklin Music Hall on Oct. 23, where the atmosphere felt more like a community gathering than a concert. Fans arrived as the most mystical versions of themselves, their outfits ranging from long, ethereal gowns and flower crowns to dark angel wings and elf ears.

Inside, they exchanged handmade “fairy gifts,” including fortunes and illustrations, while sharing stories rooted in both their fandom and girlhood. There was an ease to the room, a sense of acceptance and playfulness that added to the magic.

As fans made their way from the stretching merch line deeper into the venue, opener Susannah Joffe took the stage. In a billowing tulle skirt, sequin top, and tiara, she delivered a confident dose of feminism. Fans sang along to favorites from her debut full-length album, Dust Settles and So Will I, released in September. Her music is cinematic and expansive, making her a natural fit for this tour. “You Ruined Paris” and “Happiness Is Just a Myth” were favorites among the crowd.

After Joffe exited the stage, Paris Paloma’s set began to glow, offering a glimpse of what was to come. Like so much of her songwriting, the stage design connected us to history and art. At the center stood a large, expressive red tree reminiscent of Ithell Colquhoun’s The Tree of Veins, and matching The Fatal Flaw album art.

Paloma entered with “Stem the Flow,” immediately untangling her limbs and becoming one with the set. The tree and her body seemed to move as a single art piece, arms stretching and hair winding through the space. Earlier in the tour, Paris posted to her Instagram “performing is casting spells.” Her fusion of music and movement was effortlessly spellbinding.

The crowd had a fairy gift for Paloma, too. During “Miyazaki,” hands stretched into the air, holding personalized stars in a coordinated fan surprise that added to the enchantment. Paloma crouched on a speaker and reached for one, visibly delighted. “I’m going to put this in my scrap book.” 

Paris Paloma’s “labour” first went viral in August 2022, when she shared an early teaser on social media ahead of its full release in March 2023. It grew into a feminist anthem, one that continues to resurface alongside news cycles as a rallying cry against misogyny.

In concert, her music felt less like a battle cry and more like an outpouring of emotion. With each song, Paloma offered the audience pieces of herself. Her introductions touched on heavy societal themes—the patriarchy, toxic masculinity, the scrutiny of women’s bodies—while weaving in moments of joy, connection, and healing.

Paloma’s introduction to “Rothko” really resonated with me. Mark Rothko’s paintings, with their vibrant hues across massive canvases, are known for the powerful emotions they can evoke. Paloma described being fascinated by this, “I was obsessed with the idea that people would stand in front of his art and come to know themselves.”

But when she finally stood before one of his paintings, the profound emotional response she anticipated never came. “I thought I couldn’t understand love and art and human connection in the way others do. This song is about those feelings of inadequacy in human connection.”

Standing there, hearing her share those feelings before performing the song, I felt deeply connected to her. Sometimes, it is our insecurities rather than our shared interests that bring us closest to one another. Paloma creates a space where it feels okay to be entirely yourself.

Emotion moved in waves throughout the show, some songs offering an exhale and others arriving like a storm. The unreleased “My First Name” was the latter. Lights flashed, the volume intensified, and wind whipped through Paloma’s hair as she belted, “take my first name out of your mouth.” The demand tore through the audience like a tornado.

She saved her viral, unifying anthem for the encore. Marching back onto the stage as the drums of “labour” began, Paloma was met by every voice in the room. The collective power and frustration vibrated off the walls of Franklin Music Hall—an intense, perfect, beautiful ending.

But when Paloma left the stage, the night came full circle. The gentleness and joy that had greeted us at the beginning returned. As an unreleased track played, the fairy community began to dance. Strangers spun one another around, grinning and wholly present. 

Earlier, Paloma spoke about the range of emotions contained in her music, explaining “the anger and outrage are needed to protect the good and gentle things.” This dance was more than a sweet moment after an emotionally charged show. It was a declaration of the space her community created together and were determined to protect.

I attended the show with a dear friend. We drove home together, catching up and trading stories that echoed the themes of the evening. For all its theatricality, the night was grounded in something deeply real. We can find peace and wholeness in the feelings we carry, the stories we recognize in one another, and the relief of finding a place where we don’t have to explain ourselves.

Lately, it feels as though women are wearing a coat of grief and anger. It felt good to be in that room, to let the jacket slip from my shoulders for a little while and take in the warmth of humanity around me. We may still be far from where we want to be. But we’re never far from one another. In community, there is joy.