As a fully-fledged celeb follower, Coachella fascinates me. Like a wonderfully PR constructed magnet, everyone who’s anyone is drawn to Palm Springs to have their photos taken and their outfits scrutinised. I can only assume that the lull between fashion weeks means life as a general It girl gets a bit dull and FROW ops are few and far between. Enter, an indie music festival in the desert near LA. Of course! Someone hand me my fringed kimono and flower headband, and I’ll pretend I always dress like this.
Essentially, it operates as some kind of human nirvana, where the gods of music and fashion collide against stark and beautiful mountains. Prices range for $435 to $4700 for a weekend pass and accommodation, not to mention flights if you’re not a resident of the US. But for your mortal dollars, you’ll get ferris wheels, hot dogs, extensive VIP areas (if your surname happens to be Delevingne) and a set list featuring Arcade Fire, Bombay Bicycle Club, Daughter, Bastille, Foster the People, Haim (duh), Lana del Rey, Lorde, Muse, Pharrell and every other human you consider vaguely hip and happenin’. Previous headliners have included Jay-Z, Kanye West, Kings of Leon and Paul McCartney. And sure, you can see all these peoples knee-deep in mud at Glasto or Reading, but it’s Palm Springs. In America. Cheek by beautiful jowl with Leonardo DiCaprio, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley and Katy Perry. Direct exposure to coolness makes me cool too right? Right?!
After a weekend of religiously scrolling Instagram feeds and Daily Mail Online updates (and there’s another weekend of it all still to come) I can’t decide if the magic of Coachella lies in the fact that its so hilariously unattainable for most of us. Maybe if we actually got there we’d see that it’s just like any other festival – worse, even, for all the red-roped areas and hierarchy of fame. It seems like next to nobody stays in tents or roughs it in any way; in true LA fashion, a lot of primping and preening goes on in heavily air-conditioned yurts before those selfies take place. #nofilterneeded indeed.
So my finances or pride might never allow me to go Coachellin’ (real verb, celebs use it). But if I ever do, I’m going to wear this:
And maybe this too.