Coachella seems like my worst nightmare
Where are the bathrooms?
I have a hard time believing anyone has fun at Coachella.
It’s quite possible that I’m just projecting my personal feelings on the matter, however, I’d like to meet one person who had a truly fantastic time.
I’m not the chill, fun girl who can slap on some face glitter and wait at the gates of a music festival starting at 11 a.m. (I know that no one really goes until like 4 or 5 p.m., but still), ready to watch 10 different artists and wait in a 45 minute line for a port-a-potty.
Anecdotally speaking, I attended one music festival in high school, Gov(ernors) Ball in NYC, to which my friends and I trained from suburban Connecticut to endure a mosh-pit to Schoolboy Q, ate overpriced food stall delicacies, and saw Chance The Rapper for what would be the first of two times that summer.
While the memories with my dearest high school friends were well worth the trudge, I can’t help but look back on the festival experience itself with distain. Coachella makes Gov Ball look like an elementary school fall harvest festival, so I can only imagine the distress I would feel.
The first part of Coachella that seems immensely unideal to me, is the group migration from LA to Palm Springs, then back.
You’re trapped in the desert with every Insta-baddie under the sun for three days. If you’re lucky enough to splurge on a VIP pass, you have access to food, water, and shelter. I’m going to safely assume that none of my readers have an Artist pass, so we can skip those parameters.
However, if you don’t have a VIP pass, you’re GA. Which means food is scarce, water has run out by 4 p.m., and you have to sit in the dirt for a break. You’re hungover by Saturday, nearly gone by Sunday, and you won’t get the dust out of your hair until July.
The sun is rising on Monday morning over whatever overpriced Airbnb you’re sharing with 10 other people, or LaQuinta Inn as close to Indio as you can get. You haven’t had a real meal since Thursday, and there’s body glitter absolutely everywhere. Then, you sit in the car for 6 hours on a highway with only one way back, surrounded by everyone who lives in your city, thinking about all of the artists you didn’t see because of the crowds.
Need I say more?
The one part of Coachella this year that I could get behind was the celebrity style. All f*cks were thrown out the window, and comfort was key. If I ever were to attend, the idea of wearing anything other than a Target tank top and sweatpants with sneakers (i.e., Emma Chamberlain above), makes me genuinely upset.
The internet, and my fashion marketing peers, were upset about the lack of lewks from Coachella classics such as Kendall and Kylie Jenner, Hailey Bieber, and more. In my eyes, this was the most admirable part of the entire weekend. Kendall Jenner doesn’t need to put on assless chaps like James Charles to make a statement. She can rock a tee shirt and jeans, take an 818 shooter in the Daniel Caeser crowd, and call it a successful weekend.
Here are some of my favorite looks from this weekend!
Moral of the story? Give us nothing! It works, promise!
Send this to a friend to let them know you never want to go to Coachella with them.
amen sis, this shit looks wack every year
I THINK ABOUT THIS EVERY YEAR I WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOSE MY MIND IF I EVER EVEN CONSIDERED ATTENDING. NEVER