This is a Fashion Intervention
I’m summoning Joan Rivers.
Pull up a chair. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. Two weeks ago I packed up my grubby boots and charged forth into the throngs of Coachella. One of my abstract goals was to take photos of cute festivalgoers for the i-D instagram. My phone unfortunately stayed holstered. How could it be possible that in a three-day festival, a crowd of hundreds of thousands, I was unable to muster a measly 5-10 good outfits? I’m not trying to be a scold…
Let’s look back to move forward. Since the festival’s creation in 1999, two strains of Coachella costuming have been duking it out for style supremacy. I think of these as the flat brim hats (Vanessa Hudgens/flower crown/Boho) vs. the cowboy hats (daisy dukes/boots). Instead of one eking out over the other, they’ve slowly and disgustingly merged into the amorphous fast fashion mess that is “Festival Fashion.” With thousands of inspo photos on Pinterest and articles on how to achieve the look, it’s cowboy boots paired with body chains, lace and corsets, polyester lace and fake suede, fringe and flower crowns, chintzy body chains and sparkles, all purchased cheaply from places Edikted, Nasty Gal, and Shein. It’s influencer fashion run through the meat processesser—divorced from originality and context.
These are not ensouled garments: Nobody owned those clothes a week ago and nobody will own them next week. The saving grace of “Festival Fashion” is that there isn’t much of it. To quote Joan Rivers on Miley Cyrus’s dress at the 2012 Billboard awards: “If it were any shorter, it would be considered earrings!”
I am not opposed to costume dressing nor am I opposed to buying something for an occasion. Some of my greatest purchases have been need based! And a festival like Coachella comes with its own hurdles. Clothes are worn all day under a blazing sun and then at night through a steep drop in temperature. Shoes are ground down. I get the idea of buying something cheap because it’s getting trashed anyway. I just think we can do better. This insidious aesthetic is ugly, literally and spiritually.
Steff (my fashion compass) pointed out that while audience fashion has gotten less interesting, performers are spending more time, money, and attention on their costumes. José Criales-Unzueta wrote about the phenomenon for Vanity Fair, citing Beyonce’s 2018 performance as a watershed moment for the commercialization of the festival. Now the headline acts are closer to a Super Bowl halftime show with designer sponsors (Friday’s headliner Sabrina Carpenter wore custom Dior) and even performers on smaller stages tend to have costume changes.
Personally I think Bieber’s performance marks another turning point for the festival. Beyond being the highest paid Coachella headliner in history ($10 million dollars), it’s possible he came close to doubling his payoff through merch sales. Maddie Schulz at Vogue Business wrote after weekend one, “Via his brand Skylrk, Bieber sold $5.04 million worth of product over weekend one of Coachella, beating the festival’s previous two-weekend record of $1.7 million across both weekends.” If he managed to match sales for weekend two (I’ve yet to see reports of a final total) he stands to have made $20 millions dollars—off of a concert with seemingly low overheads. Bieb’s Skylrk windfall was felt on the festival grounds. The second most-worn festival aesthetic was just…merch. Skylrk merch, Sabrina Carpenter merch, Gap merch, you name it.
José’s portrait of Coachella as a miniature America (or at least, a funhouse version) is apt: big where American culture is big, small where it fails. With the increasing brand presence at Coachella it’s no wonder everyone feels pressure to copy their favorite influencer. Bieber’s hoodie on/laptop performance should give a temperature check on the current status of music and fashion: It’s all about the moolah!
But it wasn’t all bad!
Pink Pantheress wore one of my favorite silhouettes ever, a 9-to-5, cinched blazer with big jeans. A look that says, “The defense is WRONG!” A look that says, “I’m an enigma even though I can’t stop talking.” I wore a variation of this look the first time I met Liana Satenstein.
During my 2 a.m. Palm Springs to LAX car ride I made a sauciness/substance/meal metric. Basically, some musicians have the sauce (the swag/drip/style/je ne sais quoi), some have the substance (talent/prowess/creativity). If you have sauce and substance you could be a mini meatball, but you could also be a main course:
I’ve been on a spreeeee.
I’ve got this set that gives me early Miu Miu.
I got two pairs of vintage Manolos in Palm Springs because an elderly woman named Martha told me that they should go to a good home (now that I think about it I’m kind of a terrible home?? My shoes are stuffed everywhere!! They’re chewed) and that young women should wear stilettos (I never do).
I got another two-piece, a pink and black Blumarine set by Anna Molinari that, depending on my posture, either makes me look like a colicky baby or a pin-up.
I got this gorgeous soft sheer dress for flopping around.
I bought a milking stool to use as a portable coffee table in my tiny apartment. Mine has a tiny phallic handle.
I bought an AC unit, and a plush mattress pad.
Finally I got “airplane pants” because I have no pants that I can sleep in and also look presentable for work.
Dalya of Pleasure Lists had the most luxurious shoe I’ve seen in ages.
