THE COACHELLA DIARIES, PART 4
By day three, the festival starts to wind down. The headliners are less exciting, the ambience is more subdued and the people less jumpy. Everyone seems to need a little bit more room to breathe and relax. I decided to enjoy the performances from behind the stage, instead of amongst the crowd in front. My feet were blistered, my skin burnt from the sun, my vocal chords on their last stretch. I saw the beautiful Florence (and the Machine) as she nervously psyched herself to get on stage. I chatted with De La Soul’s David Jude about his ambition to start a jewelry line—he was wearing his own magnificent diamond encrusted fish-on-a-hook necklace. I watched Charlotte Gainsbourg from the comfort of own square meter on the back of the stage, water at my disposal.
For the past three days a few things had caught my attention. I noticed how many hot girls are at Coachella. For a casting director like myself this observation is simply a professional hazard, for the straight man at the festival however an absolute joy. Skimpy dresses, short shorts, bikini tops, cut out T-shirts, even some thongs here and there. The sights were dizzying. Models.com was taking notes on passing supermodels, casting agent Douglas Perrett was scouting the next new face of fashion, and photographer Derek Ketella simply said: “Damn!”
And what better way to truly amplify the festival experience than some good old-fashioned, mind-altering drugs. About half the people on the field must have taken mushrooms or XTC. I saw many eyes rolling and smiles that were just a bit too delightful and dreamy. For the local dealers Coachella must be height of their fiscal year. If you stood in the same place long enough something would surely fall in your lap.
All in all, Coachella is the caviar of festivals. Palm trees, dry weather, clean toilets and unbelievable lineups. The crowds might be getting bigger, and the tickets more expensive, but the experience remains stellar. The festival would, however, be a completely different experience if cell phones worked properly. Communication on the field was about half an hour delayed, and by the time your lost party got your text about a meeting place, they had already moved miles away. By the time you received their text to stay put, you had literally walked a marathon to get to them, so neither of you were where you said you would be! I had my own personal melt down after a 4-hour intensive search for my car keys one night. I think there may have even been a few tears…
