Brat Summer Is Forever

Charli XCX celebrates her Brat Tour in front of a sold-out promo wall,

Anyone who’s been paying attention knows Brat Summer started last year. I remember when Charli XCX played Dallas, I had to pick up my brother from TCU, stopped at Buc-ee’s, and saw everyone dressed in brat green. I had major FOMO.

My life has always felt brat-coded. But what does being a brat even mean? (At least to me.) It means being unapologetically your genuine self. Embracing your chaos. Owning your identity, even if it doesn’t align with traditional values. And most importantly, having faith that you’ll figure it out.

Need an example? Here’s how I ended up at the Brat Tour.

Last month, Charli was coming to Austin. I’m unemployed, no one wants to hire me, but I had to go. My friend Nancy technically has a job, but shouldn’t be spending money. Still, somehow, we always find money for concerts.

I saw 96.7 KISS FM was hiding tickets around the city, first come, first serve. I’d already missed one drop, but the post said there’d be one more. The concert was on Tuesday and Wednesday, so Monday was our last shot. We planned to wake up at 8 AM... but woke up at 10 instead. Then we had to drop Nancy’s car off at the mechanic (her car gave out), grabbed Juiceland for breakfast, found a bathroom (because I always need to pee), and drove around downtown, waiting. We were parked at Butler Park when the post dropped: the tickets were in Round Rock, 30 minutes away...

Nancy stalked her boyfriend’s location (he lives in Round Rock) and sent him to get them. He got there in under 10 minutes. When he called us, we screamed. The seats were literal back-touching-the-wall nosebleeds... but they were FREE. And honestly? That made it even more brat.

When I got home and told my mom about the whole thing, she said, “Really, Nayeli? You should’ve been applying to jobs instead.”

She was not wrong, but that wasn’t very brat of her.

Nancy and I.

On the day of the concert, we threw our outfits together last minute. I bought a $5 brat green shirt, black paint, and DIY’d a look. The “r” in brat came out so ugly. I almost didn’t wear it. But then I remembered: Charli’s album cover came from a low budget, too. I was in the same boat. And who cares? I was in the nosebleeds, it’s not like Charli was gonna pick me as the apple girl.

We didn’t make it to the photo ops (we’re always late), but we made it. 

One of the reasons I love brat so much is because of the journey it takes you on. I love to party, and if I could “dance all night… never stop till the morning light,” I probably would. Charli embraces her party-girl persona with no shame, and I admire that deeply.

Sometimes when I post myself going out, I catch myself thinking, What are people going to think of me? And then I get annoyed. Why do I even care? No one thinks about me as much as I think about myself anyway. I know my truth.

As much as I joke about being a certified 365-day party girl, the reality is I’ve never actually partied back-to-back. I can’t hang. I want success and fun nights out. I want the career and the chaos. And I’m grateful to even have the freedom to chase both. But too much partying spikes my depression, especially since I really shouldn’t be mixing meds and alcohol. There has to be a balance, or I end up feeling empty.

There are nights when “I’m a mess and play the role,” just out in the nightlife scene, trying to avoid where my future’s headed. I’m surrounded by people who don’t see me, some of them just trying to get me into their bed. I start to feel like nothing special.

Even though I try not to think about the future, “I think about it all the time that I might run out of time.” To build a career. To maybe switch careers. To find my baby. To have a baby. And that part genuinely scares me. What if I have a baby and they end up feeling as depressed as I have?

Charli said it best: “I split the apple down symmetrical lines and what I find is kinda scary makes me wanna drive.” That line reminds me of the instinct to escape, those overwhelming feelings that come out of nowhere and make you want to run. 

But eventually, I always come back to romanticizing it all. I’m delusional enough to convince myself “everything is romantic.” Even in the middle of a spiral, I’ll gas myself up: “I’m your number one, I’m just living that life.”

That contradiction, that tension between the sadness and the ego, the spiraling and the sparkle, is what makes brat so personal. It reflects this chaotic cycle I fall into for months at a time. And it’s not just about romantic relationships. Songs like “B2B” and “Talk Talk” unpack toxic patterns, but the one that really hit me was “Girl, So Confusing,” because it speaks to the weirdness and fragility of female friendships, too. 

Charli’s album isn’t just music, it’s a reflection of everything I’m going through. That’s why brat isn’t just an album to me. It’s a whole era. A mindset. A way of surviving, spiraling, and still showing up in the nosebleeds, DIY shirt, and all.

Brat Tour in Austin.