Guilty pleasures have always perplexed me. They exist – somewhere, sometimes. When you eat Christmas puddings all through the year, that’s a guilty pleasure. When you drink too much – before it smacks of addiction, that’s a guilty pleasure. Not necessarily, but could be.
When it comes to art – there’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure. If you like a Katy Perry song, that’s you liking a Katy Perry song. Plain and simple. I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong with that (and who am I to judge?), but ‘guilty pleasure’ is just a silly excuse invented by confidence-lacking people to cover their gaping insecurities.