I was twelve years old when One Direction appeared on The X Factor.
I used to joke that I was the ideal age to be brainwashed. Harry, Niall, Louis, Zayn, and Liam were different from the males I had previously expressed any interest in.
They swiftly became my entire existence because of their adolescent beauty, their witty, endearing personalities, and the fact that they weren’t much older than me.
Reading One Direction fanfiction, watching every interview the band did, and voting for them on The X Factor in order to max out my parents’ landline phone bill were all part of my traditional fangirl rituals.
It was almost an afterthought to me that they had musical talent, which they demonstrated during the monthly live performances of the reality show when Simon Cowell placed them together as a group.
I was not the only one who was obsessed. The group of fans, or Directioners as we were soon called, was vast and dispersed.
Girls in my school year group were more likely than not to be infatuated with them. Each of us donned a wristband bearing the name of Harry, Zayn, Liam, Louis, or Niall, and we all had a favorite band member.
When the boys were seen in public, they were surrounded by ardent fans, even in the early days of X Factor.
