When she arrives, a small group of friends start to gather around, catching up. They talk about their lives, and of course, they talk about the band. They decide to split - most go towards the Qantas arrivals area, but Julie heads to the Virgin lounge. She checks her phone. According to the LA fans, the boys had left LAX 15 hours ago, meaning they should arrive soon. She can wait. She's waited six hours before.

Sydney International Airport has ways of keeping the rich and famous away from grasping fans and greedy cameras. Celebrities are taken to private rooms and ushered through secret passageways, transported to inconspicuous vehicles far away from the public arrivals bay. But for these 5 Seconds of Summer (5SOS) fans, they've seen it all before. No amount of detouring can deter them.

"My friends have gotten so good at it that they don't trick us anymore," Julie admits.

This time, they don't even try. Three of the bandmates - lead vocalist Luke Hemmings, drummer Ashton Irwin and bassist Calum Hood - emerge from the Qantas arrivals lounge, bleary eyed, lugging suitcases. Guitarist Michael Clifford has taken Virgin Airlines with his fiancé, model Crystal Leigh.

Julie approaches guitarist Michael Clifford as he arrives. He asks her about uni, and they pose for a photo. Michael's grey shirt matches Julie's jumper; he is wearing large sunglasses and a black beanie even though they are inside. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his chest, smiling under his five o'clock shadow. Julie gives Michael the gold chained necklace with its Pikachu charm, a homage to his love of Pokemon.

The next two days make this airport meet one of the best. But there is stiff competition. There was the time Michael used a hot pink pen to write "strength" in a lined notebook. Julie got it tattooed on her forearm in black for her 22nd birthday. Or the time Eagle FM flew her to LA for a 5SOS concert. Or that other time Eagle FM flew her to Melbourne for a 5SOS meet and greet with 40 other fans.

Julie is more than just a fan of 5SOS. She is a superfan. She is in a fandom, a community of fans.

Fandom is not a new phenomenon. In 1893, when author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle killed off Sherlock Holmes, fans of the fictional detective rioted. The fandom eventually kept the detective alive through fan fiction. Before the internet, comic fans convened at conferences and mailed around zines; Beatlemania saw fans rocking, rolling, screaming and even sleeping with the Beatles in the 1960s.

But in recent years, fandom has become an even more powerful commercial and cultural force. Because of the internet and social media, fans can engage with each other, creators, artists and critics 24/7. And when they band together, these fandoms can be formidable.

One of the world's biggest fandoms is BTS ARMY. BTS is a Korean pop group and the fandom, called ARMY, is made up of mostly young people across the world. According to various research reports and news articles, BTS added several billion dollars to the South Korean economy in 2019.

The ARMY's power is also political. In June 2020, the ARMY bought out tickets to a Donald Trump rally in Tulsa, leading to a humiliatingly low turnout for the US president. They were particularly active during the Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests across the world in 2020. They flooded the WhiteLivesMatter hashtag on social media with K-pop videos, and collectively donated $1 million to the BLM movement.

The mainstreaming of fandoms and the power they have through social media has made the most die-hard fans, known as "stans", more visible and vocal. The term originates from the Eminem and Dido song, Stan, about a fan who stalks Eminem and then kills his own pregnant wife and child. Stans are the most aggressive fans. They are obsessive and toxic. No one wants to be associated with them.

I can relate to what you're sayin' in your songs

So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on

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Lynn Zubernis, a professor at West Chester University and a clinical psychologist, found herself drawn to the TV show Supernatural at a time when she needed it. The vengeful and muscular Dean and Sam Winchester began to fill the void her children were leaving as they grew older and more independent.

Whatever drew Lynne to the series (perhaps ripped actors Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles wrestling demons and ghosts?), it was the fan community that made her stay. Involvement in such a community is the difference between a fan and someone in a fandom. The group identity is what makes many superfans so passionate.

"One of the nice things about fan communities is people who become fans of things often are people who have felt a little bit different than the mainstream," Lynne says.

"That authenticity means that the relationships that they forge within that community are much more validating because their relationships forge by the real self instead of kind of a persona or a fake self that they felt they had to put on."

Fandom is not just the domain of women. In an adolescent girl's room, posters of baby-faced boys coat the walls. Head up the hallway towards the lounge room and you might find just as rabid a fan. He sits, stubby in hand and dinner on lap, yelling at the TV as athletic men chase around a ball.

Paul Stamoulis is watching the Wests Tigers play the Cronulla Sharks in their final game of the 2019 NRL season. The 49-year-old leans forward in a retro Wests jersey. It's only 2.34pm, the sun is bright, but still cool enough to wear a jumper. Wests player Paul Momirovski kicks the first goal of the game. The packed crowd - a sea of black, orange and white - reacts, cheering or jeering, depending on what colours they are wearing. Paul jumps from his seat, raising his beer can into the air. He cheers. The NSW cop is under no illusion the Wests have any chance at the cup, but it's still gonna be a good day. Any day watching his beloved NRL team is.

Paul became a Western Sydney Magpies fan in 1976, at five years old. His cousin, a Western Bulldogs supporter, told him he had to choose an NRL team to barrack for. He chose the Western Sydney Magpies because he was living on West Street. It just made sense.

In 1999, the top grade Magpies team merged with the Balmain Tigers' senior team, forming the Wests Tigers.

We're here to play for the crowd

From Concord through to Campbelltown

Paul's high school life was all about footy. Weekends were spent working, but he would duck out to make the game or catch the score. For Paul, it isn't just the A-league team that matters. He attends games for the lower grades, meeting up with fans beforehand for a bevvie and banter. He connects to the working class history of the club.

"People that were boiler makers and mechanics and truck drivers and whatever during the week were star rugby league players on the weekend. Some of them achieved great heights, playing for Western Suburbs, New South Wales and a select few played for Australia," he says.

"They were your true working class heroes because Monday to Friday, they actually worked normal jobs. Like you did."

While pre-COVID Paul cheered from the stands, fellow NRL die-hard Robert Silverstrino bellows from his back room. The couch is well worn, used from Thursday to Sunday during the NRL season, and almost just as much when the cricket is on. Books, bought optimistically the years since the 66-year-old retired from his human resources job, pile up unread.

Robert's wife Rose prefers old Netflix sitcoms over football. She watches her own shows on the lounge room Foxtel box and the arrangement works for both of them.

"I don't want to talk to anybody, I don't want any visitors, I don't want any phone calls," says Robert. Rose is similar.

"My wife is very territorial. [She says] leave me to my own devices, leave me to my own time and that's fine."

Robert became a Magpies fan because as a primary school student in regional NSW, he was told he needed a team. And the Magpies reminded him of the black-and-white birds swooping around him on the playground. Robert didn't know it at the time, but that off-the-cuff decision made in 1962 would dictate much of his life 58 years later.

The cancellation of the NRL season devastated many men. They waited intently for 2021, for the NRL to resume and their social life along with it. In the interim, Paul is creating fan merchandise. But for Robert, life may never be the same.

"We've got one of our favourite fans in the studio with us right now." 5SOS lead singer Luke Hemming reads from a white piece of paper in the Eagle FM radio studio. His wavy hair is perfect, not one piece astray; his short box beard is closely trimmed, eyebrows manicured. A silver chain adorns his neck, almost a choker, glistening against a black top, black blazer and black headphones. "Julie. And she's got some questions."

Julie sits a heavy breath away from Ashton Irwin, the drummer with slicked red hair. He's wearing a black T-shirt, hunched over and fiddling with a pink highlighter. She is upright, her dark shoulder-length hair resting on a bulky denim jacket. Her high cheekbones and dark upturned eyes are elongated as she smiles. The five of them are squashed in the small glass studio, headphones tight on their heads, light green mics grazing their lips as they talk.

"If you could be any movie or TV character, who would you want to be?"

"Well, Julie," guitarist Calum husks, pinching his left cheek with two fingers. "I would have to be ... um -." Ashton interjects in an American accent. "Mario from Mario Kart." They chuckle. It's an inside joke, because the boys love Mario Kart.

"That's a great question, Julie." Ashton says, looking at the other boys.

Michael Clifford smiles at Julie, his yellow-ish fringe peeking from under a black beanie. He remembers her from the day before. "You ever tried like recording any music or anything?"

"No," Julie says.

"You should try it, it's fun." Michael is wearing an off-white oversized jumper under a long dark vest. "It is pretty fun."

"Will consider that," Julie smiles dryly. The boys boff and Ashton reaches for her arm, laughing. Her lips loosely containing a smile, Julie moves deftly onto the next question. "You have a lot of colour symbolism in your work. Does the music influence the colours you've chosen, or is it the other way around?"

"That is a good question!" Michael smiles at Julie, gesturing with his tattooed hands animatedly.

While the other boys are clean or closely shaven, Michael's beard crawls down his neck, which pulses and reddens and strains when he sings. His hair, which is always dyed some unnatural colour, splinters and splits in every direction. He attended his later years of high school sporadically, eventually leaving to complete a TAFE course in Year 10. He speaks openly about his struggles with depression, loneliness and anxiety.

Michael follows Julie on twitter. He is Julie's favourite.

MORE SUPERFANS: Survivor superfan recreates reality TV show in Canberra for YouTube series

Australian pop rock band 5 Seconds of Summer formed in 2011. Three Year 9 students - Luke, Calum and Michael - from Western Sydney high school Norwest Christian College started recording music covers on YouTube. Seventeen-year-old Ashton soon joined the band as a drummer. They signed with Sony/ATV Music Publishing and began a journey to worldwide superstardom in their late teens.

The boys gained attention through their YouTube channel, and like many young boy bands, developed a devoted following of teen girls. Band manager Adam Wilkinson told them to engage with their fans on social media. Tweet back at them. It worked.

But the band seemed to forget those early fans in a 2015 Rolling Stones profile, where they posed naked on the cover. Ashton Irwin told the magazine they needed to prove they were "a real band" by developing a male fanbase.

"We're getting good at it now. We don't want to just be, like, for girls. We want to be for everyone," Irwin said. "That's the great mission that we have. I'm already seeing a few male fans start to pop up, and that's cool. If The Beatles and The Rolling Stones and all those guys can do it, we can do it, too."

The comments were perceived as sexist and ungrateful. Superfans are the backbone of artists. They can sustain niche artists, bands and TV shows. They express undying love, support them financially, help propel them into the mainstream and defend them when they misstep or receive criticism. It's hard to cancel an artist with a strong fanbase.

In Australia alone, superfans are estimated to contribute $4.3 billion to the economy.

Brianna Voulgaris is lying on her bed next to her partner Ryan, her long ashy blonde hair fanning out.

Bing. Instagram notification.

It's Taylor.

Brianna immediately unlocks her phone. She sees the first photo, a black-and-white photo of haunting tree trunks, encased in fog. There is no text. Then the second image - Taylor, amongst the trees in a huge checkered coat. And then the third image pops up, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. She lets out a scream so joyous and tearful her boyfriend starts to video it, her mum runs into the room.

"There's an album, I know it's coming," Brianna anticipates. She's right. Taylor Swift is announcing the release of her eighth album, Folklore.

The next morning Brianna goes to her retail job buzzing, smelling of Wonderstruck ($34 from Amazon), one of her five Taylor Swift perfumes. She tucks her phone, with its Taylor Swift pop socket ($15 from the Taylor Swift store) in her Taylor Swift tote bag ($20 on ebay) and drives to work. She puts on her 1989 Taylor Swift glasses ($20) to avoid the glare of the sun. Brianna listens to one of the seven Taylor Swift albums in her car on her way to work. Her phone is heavy in her pocket as she stocks shelves. She has notifications turned on for different Taylor Swift Instagram accounts, and will occasionally sneak to the bathroom to check on updates.

Folklore is released at 2pm on July 24, Sydney time. It debuts at number one on the Billboard charts, and is streamed more than 80.6 million times on Spotify on its release day. When Brianna gets home from work, she buys the album straightaway ($13), playing it on the TV as loud as possible.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favourite

Brianna, who runs a Taylor Swift fan Instagram account, especially loves the connection Taylor has with her fans.

Swift donates money, invites favourite fans to her house to listen to album releases, meets them before concerts and creates "Easter eggs" - hidden messages - in songs and album booklets. It's a symbiotic relationship, as her fans respond to the dedication by buying albums, merchandise and concert tickets. They inadvertently sell albums through large social media followings and good press.

Brianna bought tickets to the Lover tour which has been postponed to 2021. And if Folklore tours, Brianna will be there too. Taylor Swift's last tour, Reputation, pulled in $345.7 million.

Julie is at the Marrickville Factory Theatre the day after her radio interview with 5 Seconds of Summer. Luke, Ashton, Calum and Michael sweat and scream in the intimate 200-person theatre.

Julie is standing in the front row, almost close enough to feel the perspiration dripping off Michael as he thrashes his guitar. He's close enough to see her sign. "Michael can I please have your guitar pick?" He leans over and passes her the pick. After the concert, Julie follows Michael to Sydney bar the Sheaf where he is guest DJ-ing. His fiance Crystal brings him over to Julie and the other fans. Michael and Julie hug. She tucks the black guitar pick into her pocket, a memento which she later pins to her bedroom wall.

Let's make tonight the best of our lives

Here's to teenage memories

And then COVID happens. During the pandemic lockdowns of 2020 and 2021, some superfans dive into their fandoms even more. The fantasy and community helps them escape from boredom, anxiety, loss of employment or in-person connection caused by lockdowns.

But others begin to pull away.

Julie still wants to show Michael her latest tattoo (a tally mark, the 5SOS symbol) but is more keen to snuggle her girlfriend than go to a 5SOS concert. During COVID, there were no more trips to Sydney International Airport.

"There have been times where we've waited five, six hours and they've never come. And I was just like ... what are we doing?"

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Western Sydney Magpies fan Robert Silvistero feels similar. Since the NRL suspension, he has been spending more time with his young grandchildren. They play Monopoly, Scrabble, Slippery Sam.

"If I had the choice from a grandfather's perspective, there's a Wests Tigers match on this afternoon at three o'clock, or you can spend the time with your grandchildren, what are you going to do?

"Well the answer is, stuff the Wests Tigers, I'm going to spend time with my grandchildren."

Since that weekend in July 2019, things have changed for Julie. Her involvement in fandoms led to her studying social and digital media at university after high school. She got a job working for Channel Seven's morning show, the same show she used to wait outside with Demi Lovato fan signs. One day, the Pussycat Dolls walked past her. She began to date more, embraced her sexuality and fell in love.

5 Seconds of Summer were on the line-up for the bushfire relief concert in Sydney in February 2021. Julie didn't go. It was too hot outside.

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