The Coachella Drug

My relationship with Coachella is a love hate one, I love endlessly trawling over the style photos posted on every imaginable fashion sight. I love imagining myself there, basking in the sun, hanging out with bands whilst sipping a Corona and above all showing off my festival outfit which in my head ticks all the majors F’s; fashionable, functional and flattering. However I also hate the Californian music and arts institution as every year I am stuck at my boring old desk revising for exams (yes I must admit that this year the desk is on my sunny balcony in Rome, so don’t feel too sorry for me!). But mainly I hate it because by being on the other side of the world it is inevitably far out of the reach of my meagre student budget.
However each year during the month of April I become a slave to the fashion sights and endlessly trawl through the streets snaps analysing who got that perfect balance of an outfit right. Seriously, this addiction is one step away from needing an intervention.
Although here lies another problem for me, the photos tend to be a mass of toned, tanned and well dressed limbs that are so endlessly styled throughout the festival, meaning that any look snapped is always unbelievably unobtainable. Yes I maybe be using Vogue and Harpers Bazaar and my source, so all bodies on display will be owned by or worthy of supermodels. But somewhere in this faraway dreamland of achingly cool music and people there is a touch of reality that can be inspirational for all of us this summer, in particular when going to festivals.


Another love factor is the magic this festival holds when granting us new style icons, this year Kate Bosworth has been the torch-bearer of stylishly simple looks that even I feel I could pull off. (Although to achieve her banging bod I better be off the gelati and on the treadmill for the next few weeks.)


But do not fear my faithful followers, with the promise of junior sister #1 doing a year abroad in America in only 24 months time the countdown begins. And with our pinkies on the line the Barber girls will be reunited under the sun in a mass of tie-dye, fringing and destroyed denim.
Until then the delights of Castle Park in Bristol (Love Save the Day) will have to suffice for post-exams glorification.
[Photos taken from US Vogue and Harpers Bazaar]

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