Oh, Coachella, you tease.
How you tempt me from the bright screen of my iPad and from the sun-filtered travel page of this weeks’ Stylist magazine (via Anita Bhagwandas’ envy-inducing review). It is spring here in the UK, but us poor British lambs could be mistaken for thinking that we are in the depths of sludgy winter. I am tired, still a bit chilly at night and desperate to wear coral tones, skirts without tights and Sophia Webster sandals. Instead, it’s more M&S black opaques.
Mostly, I just want to be at Coachella – hedonistic and hot in the desert, drinking cocktails and California dreaming. Palm Springs’ famous music and arts festival, less than a 2-hour drive from downtown LA, has fascinated me for some time now. Not just for its eminent line up and cool crowd packed with the who’s who of the music and film world (oh, hi Beyoncé and Jay-Z) , but because as Anita rightly points out it is where fashion trends are born and where I always look for inspiration in advance of my own UK summer festival schedule.
This year’s line up is dominated by the Brits – Alt-J, Blur, The Stone Roses, Biffy Clyro (who Material Whirl recently saw live in London and would like to see again) and Ben Howard to name but a few. Add a huge dollop of warm sunshine, fruity drinks, Coachella Safari Tents (exclusive fully furnished Shakir style tents with aircon, access to restrooms and showers and breakfast/late night snacks to name a few benefits) and I imagine it to be the chicest, dreamiest, trendiest festival I’ve never been to.
In a moment of giddiness after being spurted up from the Victoria Line this morning, I announced on Facebook that I really, really want to go to Coachella if anyone wants to take me and thanked my friends in advance. No one has responded to date.
I’m still up for it.