Some pop stars spend their careers trying to escape the characters that made them famous. Others spend years attempting to reinvent themselves, distancing their present from a past they would rather audiences forget. Hilary Duff, however, seems to have arrived at a rather refreshing realisation: there’s something quite wonderful about embracing every version of yourself. And if her Brisbane performance proved anything, it’s that growing up doesn’t necessarily mean leaving behind the music, memories and questionable dance moves that helped define your adolescence.
For an entire generation, Duff will forever be Lizzie McGuire, the wonderfully awkward Disney Channel heroine who navigated the emotional minefield of teenage life before becoming something of a pop princess in her own right. Her musical career may never have commanded the critical reverence or commercial dominance of some of her contemporaries, but that hardly mattered to the thousands of devoted fans who descended upon Brisbane for a night of unapologetic nostalgia, glittering escapism and surprisingly affecting reflection. If anything, the years away from the spotlight have only strengthened the affection audiences hold for her, with the now 39-year-old singer appearing genuinely overwhelmed by the enthusiasm greeting her return.
And what a return it was.
Touring in support of her latest album, Luck… or Something (read our album review here), Duff has found a rather lovely balance between the wide-eyed optimism of her earlier material and the more complicated realities of adulthood. The resulting show was less a conventional pop spectacle than a celebration of the strange, beautiful experience of growing up alongside someone whose music once soundtracked your formative years. There was a palpable sense of collective affection in the room, with the millennial spirit well and truly alive among an audience adorned in sparkles, butterfly clips and outfits that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a 2004 shopping centre.
Appropriately, Duff opened with 2005’s infectious “Wake Up”, the high-energy dance-pop anthem that led her compilation album Most Wanted, immediately transporting the audience back to a considerably simpler era of pop music. It was a fitting introduction for an artist whose transition from Disney starlet to recording artist helped define an entire period of millennial pop culture. The equally beloved “So Yesterday” followed, its breezy dismissal of an ex-boyfriend inspiring the kind of enthusiastic singalong that suggested not a day had passed since its original release.
But rather than allow nostalgia to dictate the evening, Duff quickly shifted gears with “Roommates”, one of the more mature offerings from Luck… or Something. Exploring the realities of long-term relationships and the sometimes unromantic nature of domestic life, the song established the emotional territory her newer material would inhabit. Where her earlier work largely concerned teenage heartbreak and romantic idealism, these latest compositions are informed by marriage, motherhood, disappointment and the understanding that adulthood rarely resembles what we imagined it would be.
That evolution proved one of the evening’s greatest strengths.
The synth-driven sophistication of “Weather for Tennis” and “Future Tripping” demonstrated Duff’s continued affection for polished, infectious pop, while the pyro-assisted “Play with Fire” injected a welcome burst of theatricality. The inclusion of the criminally underrated “Breathe In. Breathe Out.” and its electro-pop lead single “Sparks” also served as a reminder that Duff’s musical catalogue has frequently been more adventurous than her reputation might suggest. The latter, in particular, remains an irresistible slice of dance-pop that deserved considerably more attention upon its original release.
Visually, the production favoured a dreamy palette of blues and pinks, shimmering lighting and a suspended disco ball that bathed the stage in an appropriately nostalgic glow. Yet despite the arena-sized setting, there was something charmingly intimate about Duff’s presence. Unlike the carefully constructed glamour associated with many of her pop contemporaries, she appeared largely uninterested in maintaining an untouchable superstar persona.
For much of the evening, jeans, a crop top and an oversized T-shirt were her preferred attire, and at one point she even performed barefoot, seemingly more concerned with comfort and connection than projecting a meticulously polished image. It wasn’t until the closing stretch that she emerged in a glittering silver ensemble more traditionally befitting a pop diva. The contrast was telling. Duff certainly knows how to inhabit the role of pop star, but she appears equally comfortable being a 39-year-old mother of four who just happens to have thousands of people screaming her lyrics back at her.
Indeed, her maternal instincts occasionally surfaced between songs, as she encouraged audience members to look after one another and remain mindful of those around them. These were small gestures, but they reinforced the sincerity that has always been central to her appeal. Duff has never possessed the larger-than-life theatricality of a Lady Gaga or the relentless precision of a Britney Spears, but her greatest strength has arguably been her accessibility. Even performing to an arena full of adoring fans, she still gives the impression of someone who could be your friend.
That relatability extended to her willingness to poke fun at herself, particularly during “With Love”, her 2007 single that enjoyed an unexpected resurgence when footage of her rather unenthusiastic choreography went viral on TikTok. Rather than pretend the internet hadn’t spent years affectionately mocking the routine, Duff invited fans on stage to recreate the dance break alongside her. It was a wonderfully self-aware moment, one that transformed an old embarrassment into a shared joke and demonstrated just how comfortably she has come to inhabit her own pop-cultural legacy.
Career-spanning video interludes further reinforced the evening’s retrospective quality, charting her evolution from teenage television sensation to adult performer, while also contextualising the emotional significance of Luck… or Something. The album’s dreamy “You, From the Honeymoon”, the Blink-182-interpolating “Growing Up”, and the deceptively buoyant “Holiday Party”, with its darker exploration of infidelity, illustrated an artist increasingly interested in exploring the contradictions of adulthood.
Similarly, the reflective “We Don’t Talk”, “Adult Size Medium” and the shimmering, 1980s-inflected “Mature” revealed a songwriter more willing to confront the messiness of relationships, personal growth and the passage of time. These weren’t necessarily songs designed to compete with the bombastic pop dominating contemporary radio, but they possessed a lived-in honesty that suited Duff’s unpretentious delivery.
Crucially, the newer material never felt like an interruption to the nostalgic celebrations. Instead, it complemented them, providing an intriguing dialogue between the young woman Duff once was and the person she has become. Hearing songs such as “Fly”, “The Getaway” and the enduringly beloved “Come Clean” alongside her latest recordings created a surprisingly cohesive emotional journey, with the latter’s familiar melodies taking on a different resonance when delivered by an artist with considerably more life experience behind her.
Duff’s voice, too, has matured. Never traditionally celebrated as a powerhouse vocalist, she has developed a warmer, more textured quality that lends certain older compositions an unexpected emotional depth. Her delivery remains relatively understated, but there’s an appealing sincerity to it, particularly when the audience is enthusiastically providing several thousand backing vocals of their own.
And if the evening occasionally lacked the slick choreography or elaborate theatrical ambition of other arena pop productions, that hardly seemed detrimental. Duff’s performance thrived on its lack of pretension. There was something genuinely joyous about watching an artist who appeared to be having as much fun as the people who had paid to see her, particularly when those people had spent the better part of two decades waiting for the opportunity.
Of course, there was one song whose inclusion felt practically inevitable.
Closing with “What Dreams Are Made Of”, the gloriously cheesy, undeniably infectious anthem from 2003’s The Lizzie McGuire Movie, Duff delivered the evening’s most euphoric moment. As the familiar melody filled the arena and the audience erupted into a thunderous singalong, the distinction between performer and fan seemed to disappear entirely. Surrounded by glittering visuals and a shower of balloons and confetti, Duff appeared visibly delighted by the reaction, embracing a song and a character that remain inseparable from her cultural identity.
For anyone who grew up watching Lizzie McGuire navigate the awkwardness of adolescence, the moment was almost absurdly sentimental. But that was precisely its beauty. There was no irony required, no need to pretend the song was anything other than a gloriously earnest piece of early-2000s pop nostalgia. Sometimes joy really can be that uncomplicated.
And perhaps that’s what made Duff’s Brisbane performance so unexpectedly affecting. In an entertainment industry where former child stars are frequently encouraged to reject their beginnings in pursuit of adult credibility, Duff seems perfectly content to celebrate the girl she once was without allowing that version of herself to define the woman she is today.
Luck… or Something may represent a new chapter in her musical career, but the accompanying tour feels equally like a reconciliation with everything that came before it. The teenage heartbreak, the questionable fashion choices, the Disney Channel memories, the dance routines and the songs that once seemed impossibly important have all become part of a much larger story.
For two hours, Brisbane was invited to revisit those memories while celebrating the messy, imperfect and occasionally wonderful realities of getting older. And in an evening overflowing with nostalgia, self-awareness and infectious positivity, Duff reminded everyone that growing up doesn’t have to mean growing out of the things that once made us happy.
As it turns out, this really is what dreams are made of.
FOUR STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Reviewer attended 22/10 at Entertainment Centre in Brisbane. The sold out tour continues across Australia throughout October.
