For me, the idea of living the music-festival lifestyle has already come and gone. I attended my first (Boston Calling) and last (Bonnaroo) during my freshman year of college, and despite enjoying the musical performances, I was getting shoved around too often and using too many porta-potties to ever want to return. But when you get invited to Coachella — the mother of all music festivals — you can’t really say no. Especially if, like me, you’re someone who considers brand activations to be much like reality television: a playground ripe for anthropological research.
So this year, I purchased a pair of Chacos, shoved nearly every swimsuit I own into a duffel bag, and flew to Southern California to experience as many sponsored posts come to life as humanly possible, from Heineken House to Camp Poosh. For a few days, I got a peek into how the other half lives — or at least, how they attend music festivals.
Thursday
Nearly everyone on my flight was heading to Coachella. What tipped me off? Well, there was a certain air of anticipation vibrating in the air — or maybe that was just the fact that we were on a Boeing 737 — and too many cowboy boots. As soon as I landed in Palm Springs, I went straight for the pool. (At Coachella, you must pregame at the pool.) My evening plans involved hitting up a kickoff dinner hosted by Patron El Alto in the backyard of the Gallery Desert House, a massive estate in Indio, where I sipped extremely fancy tequila and munched on jackfruit tacos. I tried to place the vaguely familiar faces sitting nearby — were they influencers or just very attractive? Later, I stepped inside the house and spotted one of my least-favorite reality-TV stars, Micah from Love Is Blind, while I waited for the bathroom. She was standing by the kitchen’s massive island, holding court with a group of fellow hot people and looking just the right amount of disinterested. We made direct eye contact, and I found myself feeling afraid.
Over by the pool, the party was raging — if standing around and posing for photos counts as raging. I rallied Tony and Kyle, a couple who had been sitting across from me at dinner, to get the dance floor going, but it didn’t catch on. Across from me, Nick Viall played mini-golf at the branded putt-putt course. Inside the house, several content creators were seated side by side on the couch, editing photos. It was time to go. I trekked across the massive front lawn, stepping through dormant brand activations to my chariot (my Uber).
Friday
My first Coachella-related activity of the day was a glam session hosted by Neutrogena, where I received an application of sunscreen (important, necessary) and light-blue eye shadow (cute!) before they sent me on my way. I headed to 818 Outpost, the event hosted by Kendall Jenner’s tequila brand. The line to get in wrapped around the block, and I flashed my VIP wristband to wait in the much shorter queue, wondering what sorts of activities Kendall had planned for me.
Walking in, I quickly realized that I would be spending the weekend severely underdressed. I’d always thought that it was only celebrities and content creators who wore elaborate outfits to Coachella. Granted, this was an influencer-heavy space, but I was appalled to find that not a single festival goer in my sightline was wearing sensible shoes. Instead, I spotted strappy sandals and the most pairs of cowboy boots I’ve ever seen worn in one place — and I grew up in Nashville. Approximately 70 percent of the outfits included white lace, fringe, and western chain belts.
As it turns out, the main activity Kendall had planned was waiting in line. It was sort of like a fenced-in farmers’ market, except instead of selling produce, each booth was giving away a product: vegan chicken sandwiches from L.A. restaurant Mr. Charlie, neon cowboy hats and makeup kits from Anastasia, cocktails made with 818’s reposado blanco, snacks from gopuff. After filling my tote bag and my belly, I waited in one last line — for my favorite digestive soda, OliPop — before heading out.
At this point, it was nearing 2 p.m. and finally time to head to the festival itself. With a group of fellow journalists, I headed over to a tour of Heineken House, where Torren Foot x Kormak were DJ-ing. The seating around the perimeter was plentiful and included not one but two porch swings. I made a mental note to enjoy those at a later time and headed to the Do LaB, where I was given another magical bracelet; this one would grant me access to the backstage lounge and to the stage for some of the performances. The hosts served açai bowls and Impossible burgers.
I darted out to catch the end of Chappell Roan’s set, stepping over an abandoned platform-shoe sole as I went, and the final song of Faye Webster’s, where I met up with my friend Jake. We watched Skepta, who really commanded the crowd, before I returned to the Do LaB for the Dare’s DJ set. Onstage, I was spiritually transported back to Bushwick: I counted four tote bags, three mullets, and at least ten tiny-purse-clad armpits among the hypefolk on the relatively small platform. I watched one girl take a few drags from a cigarette, posing for photos in front of the NO SMOKING sign on the massive speaker, before handing it back to its owner. Inspired, two more girls, both wearing nice tops with Adidas shorts and boots, requested cigarettes from the same guy and lit them. Perhaps smelling the smoke, the Dare himself turned around to request a cigarette with a hand gesture, but his request was denied — it seemed like he wasn’t allowed to have one. I was impressed by how little he seemed to be sweating in his signature suit.
I went back to Heineken House to see Bob Sinclair, a 57-year-old French DJ wearing a shirt with a photo of himself on it, then met back up with Jake to watch Honey Dijon. We spotted Camila Mendes dancing her heart out and then we danced our hearts out to Peggy Gou’s set. Suki Waterhouse, who gave birth approximately a month before, was next on my schedule. In the first half of her performance, she sat down for a chat with the audience, telling us how honored she was to be on a lineup with so many incredible women. “I don’t know if some of you know, but I’ve had some pretty big life changes happen recently,” she said. “ I love amazing ladies, and I’ve been very lucky to have my own little amazing lady come into my life.” That’s one way to do a gender reveal!
It was time to take full advantage of my artist pass for Lana Del Rey’s headlining show on the main stage. In the VIP section, a chaotic line started to form for entrance to the even more exclusive artist viewing area. I saw Camila Mendes again when she cut the line just a few feet in front of me, which I didn’t mind. With the influencer Bretman Rock to my right and a minor Drag Race contestant behind me, I watched Lana Del Rey begrudgingly sing her songs and bring out dancers and backup vocalists who outshined her at every turn. She also had some sound issues throughout the night. Had it begun at 6 or 7 p.m., it would’ve been a lovely sunset show to sway along to, but it was an hour past midnight and I was too frozen to have any swaying left in me. I left early.
Saturday
For day two (yes, it was really only the second day), I leaned into the influencer life, RSVP’ing to Revolve Fest and Camp Poosh. I was nervous about getting stranded and arrived to Revolve Fest relatively early — there was no line, and I went smoothly through a backyard garden that smelled wonderful, emerging into a clearing that had a yassified farmers’-market vibe similar to 818 Outpost’s. Revolve had a stage; I danced along to a DJ set by Kim Lee while roaming the booths. There were fewer long lines, with attendees mostly congregating for the Rhode-sponsored photo booth and the chance to grab free Quay sunglasses. The actual highlight was honestly a soft serve that was meant to taste like Hailey Bieber’s Erewhon smoothie; it was so good I went back for seconds. I left before actual celebrities, like Lili Reinhart, Megan Fox, and Mrs. Bieber herself, showed up because Camp Poosh was a 45-minute drive away.
Camp Poosh lived up to its name. Even though I was still surrounded by people wearing chain-metal dresses and glorified pajamas, I felt more at home in my Chacos. There was a small pond where two attendees were paddleboarding, and I arrived just in time for a DJ set by Anderson .Paak, who was wearing a Little Richard–esque wig and was accompanied by a live trumpet player.
Later, I made it back to the Coachella grounds with just enough time to dash to the Heineken House for T-Pain’s set, where the crowd was massive. I was lucky enough to watch from just below the stage as T-Pain brought out his wife for everyone to sing her “Happy Birthday” and then proceeded to absolutely freak it. He moonwalked. He body rolled. He twerked! The man can dance, and the crowd, including me, was loving it. I missed Billie Eilish’s surprise visit to the Do LaB, but getting low in front of T-Pain himself was worth it. I then caught the start of Bia’s set, before embarking on the 20-minute journey to Ice Spice’s set all the way on the other end of the festival grounds. I’d heard Taylor Swift was there and was hoping to catch her in the VIP section, but by the time I made it to the stage everyone else had heard, too, and the crowd had swelled to such a mass that I couldn’t even get near the entrance.
I turned around and went back, meeting my friends Chichi and Jake at an indoor activation where we hydrated and fueled up on date brownies I’d grabbed at Camp Poosh earlier that day. Warmed and somewhat rejuvenated, we went to see Saint Levant, where persistent sound issues only slightly marred a beautiful show. The atmosphere was safe and supportive with chants of “Free Palestine” breaking out before he even got onstage. Once he did emerge, he brought his people with him: He was joined by guests including Playyard, Bayou, and Naïka, and he brought out traditional dancers and drummers. The most emotional moment came when he played a livestream from Gaza, where singers there sang the revolutionary song “Sawf Nabqa Huna.” It was the only time that day I felt fully immersed in the show I was experiencing, not worried about where I was going next.
Around 10 p.m., I went to explore the artist section of the main stage during the No Doubt reunion. I found a nice trailer bathroom — there was lotion — and a gallery displaying all of Coachella’s posters from years past. I really wanted to stick it out for Tyler’s performance, and I did stay awake and alert until his set started at 11:40 p.m. The stage was beautiful, and he even had me dancing. But three songs in, the wind defeated me and I had to leave. Maybe I’m just not built for this life.
Sunday
At the hotel gym, a woman told me “all the locals” go to Coachella during the second weekend. I decided to pay one last visit to the pool’s lazy river, where I overheard teenage lifeguards discussing last night’s show and learned that Tyler brought out A$AP Rocky and Kali Uchis and Childish Gambino.
Because I had to leave early to catch my flight, I only got to see two performances out of the many Sunday shows I wanted to. The first was FLO, which was possibly the best performance I saw all weekend. The way those girls can harmonize brought actual tears to my eyes as I watched from the artist viewing area, where there was enough space to really dance. Next to me, a trio of stans took turns filming one another passionately singing along to the lyrics.
I walked back to the artist compound by the main stage one last time, and I thought I heard Lauryn Hill. We went out to the viewing area, where Hill’s son YG Marley was performing on the main stage accompanied by his mother, Wyclef Jean, and Busta Rhymes. It was a weekend of chaos, tote bags, and fresh lip filler — but it was also a weekend of great music and the kind of sunshine that really teaches you the meaning of the word bask. It seems like even the celebs would rather attend Coachella than perform there. Girls just wanna have fun! I only wish the fun would both start and end on the earlier side.
Related
- Was Coachella Actually Fun This Year?
- All the Celebs at Coachella This Weekend
Katja Vujić , 2024-04-15 22:49:35
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