In Fields Of Summer.

Sunday, 19 August 2012

This year marks the first in four that I shan't be Bestival bound and I am GUT to the TED about it. To some living out of a backpack, setting up temporary residence in a tent, weeing in the woods and bathing with baby wipes is their idea of hell. Not me though. I live for that shizzle. However this year I have big plans to attend to, and big plans require even bigger investment and so alas Besti you will have to do without me this year. 

Aside from the cider-sodden shenanigans, fancy dress fun, legendary live performances and frolicking in fields I'm devo'd that I'm missing out on the obligatory engineering of the festival wardrobe. Watching the folks at a super sunny V Festival on le telebox this arvo my attention quickly turned from Pro Green to prints and The Stone Roses to sequins. Having conquered the blistering heat of Coachella I can totes appreciate the difficulties of perfecting your festival swag when you have a sexy sweat-tache forming on your upper lip and so in lieu of Bestival outfit blogging here's my clobber of choice from the Palm Springs soiree...


I knew Coachella would be hot but I didn't realise it'd be melt-your-make-up-off hot. How smug was I that when I stepped off the air-conditioned coach and into a 40° desert I had chosen this airy ensemble. For Coachella day one I was going for casual glam and my inner magpie spotted this metallic spiderweb Topshop tunic and thought 'that'll do nicely thank you please'. I'm planning on rocking it over a neon bikini during my upcoming trip to Ibiza, an ideal choice for a disorderly day on Bora wouldn't you agree? My cheap as chips H&M bodycon skirt and Primark bandeau bra formed the basic basis of my outfit successfully covering ones modesty whilst flashing enough flesh to keep me cool. Accessory of the season, the statement necklace, does exactly what is says on the tin jazzing up an otherwise plain piece of apparel. Converse All Star Low's were a no brainer. I intended to get my groove on in the most hardcore of stylees and these kicks would provide both comfort and protection all the while looking effortlessly cool. I think so anyway. Coachella day one. Done.


Day two's get-up was sponsored by a hungover head and having a right strop on hence it's staid simplicity. You know those mornings when everything you put on looks like a huge bag of shite? That. It was far too toasty to make a savvy decision on the subject of style and so following muchos huffing, puffing and a colourful choice of language I settled for a fusion of floral chiffon shorts and plain white tank. Cake. I purchased these high-waisted Topshop lily-print lovelies for my day of birth celebrations last year and in typical girlie fashion had not worn them since. Despite being initially underwhelmed by my outfit option this lush, light combo earned serious man points by keeping me looking and feeling fresh. Quite the feat in the scorching Coachella sunshine let me tell you. Growing out my elfin crop has been the recent bain of my existence, tediously having to tread the fine line between mullet and lego lid. Hip hip hooray then for Lereese and her gorgeous Girl Stole Vintage headscarf what single-handedly bailed out my bonce and averted a major tresses related tantrum. My hair hero. Coachella day dos. Did.


What better way to bid adieu to Cali's mammoth musical showcase than to dance around its desert with not one but two American eagles emblazoned across my chesticles. Pilfered from Urban Outfitters this tee oozes understated bad-ass-ness and slit down either side it delivers a much needed draft as well as giving fellow festival goers a slight glimpse of your friend and mine, the side boob. Saucy. As studding is like so in right now these Girl Stole Vintage denim cut-offs were a welcome addition to my holiday haul. The Coachellian fash pack couldn't get enough of them either stopping me on several occasions to acquire a pic of these re-worked rude boys. Or so they said. We all know they really just wanted a picture of my juicy double. Human. Day three's outfit was an attempt to channel the understated and impossibly chic look of my summer style crush Kate Bosworth. My God that girl gives good festival fashion. I finished off my laid-back rock Goddess garb with a slick of red lippie, MAC Lady Danger to be exact, and I was ready to well and truly have my way with the last leg of Coachella 2012.

How did I fair folks? Dogs danglies or dog rough? 

Whatever tickles your fancy I like to think that there are no hard and fast rules when it comes to festival fashion (other than heels and Ugg boots, if I see you with either at an outdoor event be prepared to encounter a world of pain). Instead brave the bonkers, dare to bare and embrace experimentation. I for one will definitely be grabbing the body paint and raiding The Ring Master's Wardrobe in anticipation of the outlandish experience that is Glastonbury. I'll see you there with bells on. Literally.

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