I guess when you love to create something that is immensely self-liberating, it wouldn’t matter what the channels of expression are.
But when we’ve become so deeply entrenched in this hustling city and modern life, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little escape? To calm one’s self amongst the lush greenery and inviting water?
There was neither foreboding thunder nor cold rushes of wind to warn us of such impending doom. (Or maybe I was just too preoccupied to drop a pint of care in the bucket of weather assessment.) Hey! Cut me some slack. Not everyone has Karen Smith’s psychic breasts.
I think I’ve got too much fringe and shimmer but less Isabel Marant bohemian frippery going on to actually fit the formulaic ‘Coachella’ look.
“I have a style penchant with the 70s and can gladly show you some hip-swinging, finger-snapping syncopated strut ala Tony Manero while dressed in tight fitting trousers and kanga orange top, sans bra.”
Let’s live momentarily on the irony of things and dance our troubles away clad in everything gold and shimmery. An instinctual ode to pursue the ethereal and spark-worthy moments in our lives despite everything that contradicts such.