Coachella.. Yes. The name seemingly says it all, even though most people don't even know what it means exactly.. yet everyone seems to know 'what it is', where it takes part and unfolds, and who's gonna join once the world wide famous music and art festival has opened its gates to 'indie heaven'.
Crazy and almost unbearable heat in this huge desert valley in Southern California, daringly dazzling sunshine, feathered war bonnets which once belonged to the Native Americans back in the good old times, half naked and super toned bodies to die for, cliché pool parties with lots of kiddy pool goodies such as inflatable unicorns and pineapples which we all have been secretly dreaming of, extremely tremendous crowds including the A list of the desired high society, exorbitant ticket prices and rampant teenage drug abuse have bolstered its reputation as the yearly paean to rich kid debauchery you love to despise for no 'reason at all', and the one most people would inexplicably still shamelessly commit murder to attend as the festival is a must on every bucket list in existence apparently. Coachella is literally that festival almost every soul is yearning for ever so desperately whenever it comes around every year in April. I admit, I'm one of those cray cray chicks who'd love to join.. solely for the music and art of course. What else?
Therefore I have decided to finally give it a try and allowed my sleepy mind to wander through the dry roads of Colorado's beige-coloured wasteland in a Ford Mustang Shelby to cheekily lure myself into the land of dreams a little more.. and it worked, because apparently the morning after I could find rare footage on my beloved Nikon and I still wonder how it happened as the memories felt so real and the pictures given looked eerie authentic as well..
Floral patterned two piece (which rather reminds of grandmothers favourite curtains) and a perfectly matching flower crown including a statement necklace which every girl had hanging around her feminine neck.. I have reached the stereotype of all stereotypes. And all I could remember was the clamorous music (which would probably sounded like horrible noise to some) and a lot of booze throughout the night. A hotel-room party? Apparently. But who else was there? Me, myself and I? I assume so. No faces could be remembered, no conversations.. nothing, nada, niente. My gorgeous crop top belonging to the dyadic beaut could be found hanging on an empty stool while the rest of the blooming gown was just lying on the floor. The wooden ground covered in tiny flakes of glitter and I already knew who's going to clean and tidy up this unexplainable mess. Frankly, I find all of this suspiciously and very much mysteriously odd. But what I have finally realised after a night out of sheer fun in the land of dreams that I don't need to be at Coachella to wear flowery and super glittery goodies. In fact, I think we should allow ourselves to just add these little treasures which make us happy and intensely inspired to our every day life.. because we deserve it. Happiness isn't spending a thousand dollars cash but to find pleasure and fortune in the most simplest things in life.
So it's a Nochella for me this year. But a BIG FAT YES to this awesome life.
To the meaning and the name of the so-called Coachella Valley: When people were naming the valley, it was originally going to be called "conchilla" apparently, because of all the little shells in the dirt, but someone supposedly misspelled it and ended up with Coachella.
(concha = shells, in Spanish.)
If that's really the absolute truth? I honestly don't know for sure as the explanations vary which can be found on our beloved platform: the internet.
Here a live link to the festival for those who are stuck at home all "Couchella" like. Enjoy!