Sabrina Carpenter’s naughty O2 show makes tweens shriek (and their parents blush)

Sabrina Carpenter scurries across the stage of London’s O2 in only a towel, unprepared for her show to begin, before disappearing into the wings. Soon after, in a moment that’s been spliced, diced and gone viral on social media since the (miniature) pop behemoth’s Short n’ Sweet tour began in America in September, Carpenter emerges again and opens up her towel to reveal a bejewelled Betty Boop-style bodysuit. Tonight, it’s cobalt blue coloured. She’s wearing her signature nude-coloured tights, her hair is a platinum blonde blowout. She tries to catch the crystal-covered microphone dangling above her but, at only five feet tall, she can’t reach.

These mechanical mishaps are part of the Carpenter playbook. Don’t be fooled: this Pennsylvania-born singer has meticulously crafted this mammoth production, which celebrates the most successful year of her decade-long career. A graduate of Disney sitcoms, Carpenter began releasing teen bops when she was just 15, before swapping the Disney-owned Hollywood Records for Island and releasing her first grown-up record – Emails I Can’t Send – in 2022. By 2023, Carpenter was co-signed by pop’s high priestess Taylor Swift, who asked Carpenter to be the support act on her world-conquering Eras tour. Now 25 and winner of two Grammys – for her blockbuster 2024 album Short n’ Sweet – she is one of the biggest forces in modern pop. (And she’s oddly controversial: her Brit Awards performance last week, in which she feigned pleasuring a Beefeater, drew 825 complaints to Ofcom.)

The pomp surrounding tonight’s show is a testament to her relatively newfound fame: swarms of girlies have arrived covered in red kiss mark tattoos, wearing an array of Carpenter-style nightwear, slip dresses and golden bouncy wigs. The tour itself feels like an innuendo-filled victory lap. On stage, when the singer eventually locates her mic, the roaring low-slung electric guitar chords of “Taste” fills the stadium. Afterwards, she sits herself in front of a Grease-style dresser and changes into a sheer babydoll dress and matching garter for “Good Graces” – a catchy kiss-off to an ex in which she proclaims, “I won’t give a f*** about you”. The audience chants it back. For “Slim Pickins”, a country-influenced ballad from the perspective of a wronged woman, Carpenter lounges on a fur rug alongside a faux-log burner. The scenery looks like a Barbie dreamhouse.

The most winning numbers of the night include “Juno”, a frisky track inspired by the 2007 teen pregnancy film of the same name, which sees Carpenter “arrest” an audience member (and/or celebrity who’s been spotted in the crowd) for being “too hot”. Tonight it’s Salma Hayek who is placed under caution and passed a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs as punishment – though I’m not sure if the crowd of 14-year-olds that surround me know who she is. The arena glows crimson for “Bed Chem” and, as in her Brits performance, Carpenter gyrates on a heart-shaped bed before a sheer curtain comes down and she disappears under a duvet with a male dancer. Parents accompanying minors look a combination of terrified and embarrassed as their screaming daughters zoom in on their iPhones.

The set is transformed into a Gatsby party for her newly released song “Busy Woman”, in which Carpenter flexes her muscles and purrs, “I’m so mature, collected and sensible”. The singer’s inclination for dry humour and “blonde” jokes is endearing. At various points she asks the crowd blunt questions: “Do you like concerts?; “You guys like tea here, right?”; “What’s that word… chug?” That last one is her cue to down a beer and play spin-the-bottle to decide her next song: a rogue, boisterous interpretation of “Come on Eileen”.

Carpenter is not an out-of-this-world performer. Sure, her expert vocals and you-can’t-look-away stage presence are undeniable, but her dance moves are restricted to modular choreography, Kate Moss-style catwalk struts and the odd high-kick. There are plenty of missed opportunities during dance breaks, too – she doesn’t indulge in anything too strenuous, instead spinning around the stage with her hand glued to her microphone.

It leaves the night’s closing number a tad underwhelming. The peppy, Grammy-winning earworm “Espresso” sees Carpenter and her troupe of backing dancers stomp down a catwalk, but not much else happens. For such a big hit, I had hoped for more… perhaps Carpenter floating around in a gargantuan espresso cup? I suppose it doesn’t matter – the arena leaves high off the caffeinated hit all the same.