Last weekend, I joined the ranks of the most annoying people on Earth — Coachella Music Festival attendees. Before you click off, please note that I only went for Day 1. By Saturday morning, I was far from the desolate desert and back in wonderful air conditioning. After my 24-hour visit to Influencer Disneyland, I offer up some advice; buy a wristband for one day and skip the weekend-long disintegration in the desert.
Everyone else is lying to you! You don’t need to go for the whole weekend. Think about the post-Coachella content on Youtube; videos are always titled something to the tune of “the truth about Coachella.” Emma Chamberlain’s Coachella videos “the truth about coachella (everyone else is lying to you)” and “AN ACCURATE COACHELLA VLOG” make one thing clear; Coachella is not as glamorous as Instagram makes it seem. In her 2019 Coachella vlog, Coachella-committed Emma Chamberlain even admitted to skipping the third day of the festival and lounging by the pool instead, citing pure exhaustion and disinterest in the third day’s musical performances.
The vlogs are always morbidly dramatic with a tinge of unseen privilege, but the complainers always go back. Why?
I get it. Coachella is seductive: the green grass, the rainbow tower, the Ferris wheel, the fashion, and the once-in-a-lifetime performances. I have easily watched Beyonce’s Homecoming documentary of her 2018 Coachella performance 10 times. For us lowly humans who did not get to see Beyonce make history as the first Black woman to headline the festival, we had to watch Snapchat stories and bootleg Youtube videos. Coachella generates the most FOMO of any music event, FOMO I have never claimed to be immune to. Growing up in Southern California, I watched as friends ventured off to frolic in Coachella Valley. The festival is just a tantalizing 45-minute drive from my hometown. To compensate for my jealousy, I, like so many, took to making fun of the event instead. Making fun of Coachella is its own genre on the Internet. Influencers like James Charles make it easy. I assumed everyone wandered around the grounds in *ssless chaps.
Thankfully, this isn’t true. Once I arrived, I found the influencer attendees remained in the VIP section. Meanwhile, the non-Instagram absorbed attendees simply enjoyed what Indio had to offer. We napped under the shade of a tree, drank lemonade and scaled the art installations like children at recess. There really is lots of space to frolic. Coachella-ers are friendly. There’s a feeling of camaraderie, as everyone braces the elements and long hours of waiting for their favorite artists.
The general parking is free. Parked in a grass field in Indio, we were surrounded by festival attendees getting ready. Rows of car windows showed entire mattresses crammed into trunks. One woman curled her hair in the driver’s seat, plugging her curling iron into her solar-powered portable charger.
Coachella is much more low-key; it’s the influencers that make it a production. After some Coachella people watching, under the oasis of a palm tree, my friend said, “Why are these influencers walking around like it’s the Met Gala?” My other friend responded: “Because they can’t get invited to the Met Gala.”
That being said, the elements are a Coachella attendee’s biggest threat. In the article “The Worst People at Coachella, According to People at Coachella,” author Andrea Domanick described the scene on the ground at Coachella: “when you throw a quarter-million mostly-young people together in a field with sundry substances, relentless heat, and bad cell service, well, things get a little Battle Royale.” I will admit the elements make Coachella a very tame episode of Survivor, with even a little bit of Naked and Afraid tossed in (thanks to Coachella fashion favoring the tight, the smallest, the least functional). Coachella-ers can call it “Bohemian.” I’ll call it “Naked and Sunburned.” The wind is no joke — I nursed a windburn on my face for several days after returning home. I watched some poor Coachella-er lose her cowboy hat to a particularly violent wind gust. The elements, tied with spotty cell service, make human tolerance low. This is why I recommend a day trip to the festival over a weekend-long submission to the Palm Springs sun and dust gusts.
Harry Styles and Lizzo dancing around the main stage in furry coats made the sunburns and porta-potties worth it. We were so close, that I could see with my own eyes the glimmer of his pink Gucci suit (serving Strawberry Shortcake). The trauma of bonding with your friends makes it all worth it. And the food at Coachella was surprisingly really good. Sitting on the dusty ground, I ate tater tots covered in queso and corn dogs. Who says Californians don’t eat carbs?!?!
After three years of cancelations and rescheduling, Coachella 2022 was a celebration of togetherness and community. Coachella might be full of annoying attention getters, but the festival is a time for music and joy and youth. There’s a reason the complainers keep coming back.
Call me crazy, but I’d do it again. But just for one day! You get all the swagger and the least amount of blisters.