Back in 2008, I committed one of festival fashion’s cardinal sins. It was at Glastonbury, and while I won’t mention the colour of my trainers, I will say that they were brand new when I wore them. But what I wore wasn’t my real crime.
My sin was one that I’m guessing many of you reading have committed. During my youthful hydration-less folly at Glastonbury five years ago, I tried way too hard. Like countless others before and since, I’d attempted to distil Glasto’s disparate fashion tribes into one meticulously curated look that shouted, “Look at me!
I belong at a festival!” Needless to say, while wearing white trainers wasn’t the brightest move I’ve ever made, it wasn’t my look’s biggest crime. It was trying so damn hard.
I wore a jacket that was maybe a year too old to qualify as vintage military surplus, distressed jeans I’d spent weeks pre-destroying (too much? ), a limited edition band t-shirt (not of the band I was there to see, of course) and desert boots I’d dragged behind my bike to pre-wear-in.
I topped off the whole ensemble with a flat cap angled aggressively down on one side so that I looked like a homeless Gentleman Jack enthusiast. Needless to say, I looked like a complete try-hard. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t far out of university yet – I was twenty-six at Glastonbury that year – and therefore could get away with just about any egregious act of style-based stupidity.
Looking back, I might have chuckled at my fancy-ass-trousers outfit had I not run into my university friend Dave standing in front of the stage during The Stone Roses. Dave had taken a year out between studying English Lit (and trying to appear way more indie than he really was) and working for a living, backpacking around America. He told me how inspiring the experience had been, particularly when he visited Ford’s Theatre in Washington, D.C. and sat in the seat from which President Lincoln was assassinated.
What he didn’t know – or refuse to admit – was how inspiring that trip had been for his perennially effortless festival style. Dave was wearing mud-spattered faded jeans, battered converse, and a plain navy t-shirt under an off duty-navy rain jacket. It looked, dare I say it, effortless.
As I began to wilt inside my semi-it-used-to-be-an-army-surplus jacket, he stood there casually rocking out while giving zero fucks about his outfit. Or how he looked. Meanwhile, I’m there roasting a bit in my distressed denim vest, wondering if I should take it off so I don’t die of heatstroke. “Mate,” he said upon seeing me, jovially. “You look like you’ve walked off your Very Own Instagram page and landed up at a music festival.” Right.
Thanks Dave. “But seriously, either tone it down or go full hippy,” he said pointing at my jacket. “You look ridiculous.” If berating me from Glastonbury’s massive crowds was the first heartless blow to my gear-based masculinity, watching The Stone Roses whilst standing next to my infinitely cooler ex-university mate was the killshot. I sartorially sucked. And nothing would ever be the same.
Watching Ian Brown stumble haltingly through “I Wanna Be Adored”, it hit me that while we may share climate and music taste with our European cousins, there’s one key way that British festival style doesn’t give a shit about fashion. Unlike Coachella or India, where obviously your outfit matters because why else would you blog about festivals if not to talk about clothes?, we dress to get muddy, not get cute. Case in point: less than five hours later I somehow found myself stood next to Dave’s brother at The Fatboys.
He looked even better than Dave did. Jeans. Flannel shirt.
Hoody. Mrwallet.permitted.items.flannel was that this? Britain’s Greatest Festival Style Revelation Ever?
Generic outdoor jacket. Really? Was it over simplifying matters to conclude that everyone who came to Glastonbury dressed like they threw on whatever, even down to the fashion tribes that littered the site’s glorious whimsy?
Hipsters ignoring the ethics of Hedi Slimane’s churned-out-yet-affordable Dover street market vintage tee shirts. Goths almost exclusively rocking Hot Topic out-of-season buys. Grungy-types swearing by their pit-scuffed festival wristbands from years past.
Pastel kids roaming about the Parkham stage reciting Byron like it was Spotify. Even the burbers looked like they stumbled out of JD Sports rather than arrived via Sherpa treasure shipment… Barely had the thought occurred to me when Andrew, Dave’s brother, summed it all up. He was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and a bog-standard hoody under a standard issue looking waterproof.
Like Dave before him, he looked fucking immaculate. He wasn’t trying too hard and he didn’t give two fucks about how he looked while standing around getting doused in beer from 500 metres away. I took this as a tacit challenge.
You see gentlemen, this is what separates us from our fashionable European neighbours: very British festivals are ultimately not about how you look. They’re about wearing clothes you don’t care about getting covered in mud, then looking like you didn’t try very hard at all. How you achieve this deeply British, effortlessly t-shirt bleach stained pinnacle of festival dress is where it gets tricky.
But over the years I’ve developed my own fool-proof British festival dressing method that I like to call: Functional + Personality = British Festival Style. Here’s what I learned about dressing right at festivals… Disclaimer: all styles mentioned below come with very important caveats. The north-face-pack-flexible-hiking-jacket is trendy AF right now.
But that doesn’t mean you should wear it to a festival. Unless you’re wearing it to breath-easy on a 3-day hike up Snowdon. Or you live in Tromso.
Wearing overtly trendy/fashion-y gear to a British festival is giving too hard about your outfit and will get you sent to fondo-esque exile. Footwear The quickest way to look like you made your festival outfit decision in the mirror with a Mornington Crescent whistle is an obvious footwear choice. White trainers?
Dudebros who wandered accidentally wandered into a campsite instead of watching the welsh loose dogs spin off riff after outrageous riff in the Other Stage. Off white trainers? Blogging about this article right now.
Likewise, gear that’s obviously fresh off the shelf won’t cut it either. No fancy boots, no trendy trainers. This isn’t a walk in the park.
British festival shoe-dom can be summed up in three words: considered wear-in. Wear shoes that can handle a downpour and won’t die if you get mudgirl_FORCEBarsont hem stuck in the mud. But avoid the trappings of “obviously-functional” festival footwear.
Which means no: You get the gist. Think muted tones that don’t scream, “LOOK AT ME I’M WALKING THROUGH MUD BUT IT’S OKAY CUZ I’M WEARING TECHNICAL SHOES THAT DEFINITELY DON’T MAKE ME SOUND LIKE I’M PRETENDING TO HIKING MOUNT EVEREST RIGHT NOW!” Sandals are fine so long as they won’t cut off your circulation – bright coloured sandals are not fine, however. Jeans Skinny jeans are so last decade.
You think your little kidneys will be able to fight off pneumonia from having your lifeblood restricted? Fuck off and cry in your piss stain leggings next year man. Flares, drainpipes, bootcuts; however wide you like your denim, just make sure it’s not skin-tight.
Remember: this is Britain, not California. Summer is hypothetically happening right now but also might randomly not for four hours and kill you. Skinny jeans have been mercifully replaced with more flattering straight cuts and trouser styles that are roomy enough to sit down in comfortably (always a bonus at music festivals).
These don’t have to be your everyday Joe denim jeans either – distressed or washed jeans work well, just so long as they don’t look like you’ve just purchased them for the festival. What not to wear? Colourful jeans.
Like adults don colourful clothes to festivals. Jeans should be dark, or faded black/white jeans at the very most. Oh, and wash your jeans before attending a festival, please.
There’s no foolproof method for picking out the best jeans for festivals but I will say this: reputable boot and shoe brands tend to make damn fine jeans as well. Think Blundstones, Dr. Martens, Red Wings boots – you get the picture.
Any brand that’s been making reliable shoes for decades is likely to make a dependable pair of jeans as well. My good pal Jamie is a music journalist and annual Glastonbury-attendee who swears by his worn-to-death pair of Blundstone boots. “They’re about fifteen years old and have been to god knows how many Glastos,” he tells me. “Basically they’re carrying spare parts for themselves around now just so I can keep using them. But they’re jeans waterproof, comfortable, and look like they haven’t been ripped off some hipster’s feet at a yard sale.
Best value footwear ever.” Jacket The technical-but-not-too-technical rule still applies for jackets and outerwear. British festivals are notoriously crap at staying resolutely English-tethered weather-wise. You’ll bake in the sun one minute, be soaked through the next.
But rain is as much a guarantee as the muddy grounds you’ll be treading. As such, you’ll need to strike a balance between functional jacket and basic bullshit. Warmer weather festivals can get away with the classic Brit summit: the good old trustworthy Barbour jacket.
As old a beer stained/shitstained/generic festival juice stained as you can find for maximum effect. Flannel button-up and trusty Barbour jacket combo is about as British a look as you can get. But make sure your Barbour is worn in – wallpaper wrapped around your torso isn’t slippery enough to get away with at a festival.
For something a little more low-key that can take a beating and won’t have you sweating like a Nickelback fan at an Arctic Monkeys concert, I’d recommend the ubiquitous mountain parka. Patagonia, The North Face, Uniqlo: as long as it’s not trying too hard to be trendy (ie. bright yellow), you can’t go too far wrong. Layers Whereas your jacket should convey a message of “tested-and-proven-ifiable-because-I-live-in-the-UK functionality, your inner layers are where you can let your personality shine through.
Flannels, vintage band t-shirts from the tour/arena circuit, plain t-shirts in white or grey work well. Again, the key is worn in – nothing screams trying-too-hard festival wear like new jeans and a vintage band t-shirt. I’m partial to an olive cotton overshirt (makeshift rain jacket?-style jacket) as my go-to layering piece.
Lightweight enough to toss over your shoulder if it gets too warm, sturdy enough to deal with an evening breeze, and has plenty of pockets. Pockets are key, people. SHORTS It pains me to say I was wrong.
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About shorts. Especially in theUK. Look, we don’t do heat well here in the UK.
It’s getting worse with climate change, sure, but we’re also not used to coping with actual Summer heat. That said, if mercury rises and dry-thirty degrees is forecast for your favourite camping extravaganza, you can throw on a pair of shorts. But adhere to these ground rules and you’ll be fine: Boyshorts.
Capisce? That said, I’m not gonna lie: if it’s blistering hot for the whole festival you’ll probs be wearing shorts. In which case, jeggings are your friend.
Accessories Fuck anyone who’s wearing a flower crown. Yes, even me during muddy winter Holi festivals I used to sneak into ten years ago. Bandanas?
DON’T MAKE ME START. Novelty glasses? PLEASE.
Festival season is ripe for accessory hijinks and, chances are, you’ll be dumb enough to overthink them. Don’t. Leave the ridiculous accessories at home and opt for tried-and-tested English staples.
For sunglasses, aviators or wayfarers from a reputable supplier that won’t autumn apart when soaked in beer/greyhound/rain. A simple watch you don’t care about will do the trick. And as far as festival fashion accessories go, that about does it for the guys.
Necklaces? Unnecessary. Friendship bracelets?
Are you sixteen? Keep your accessories to a bracelet you don’t care about getting destroyed, a wristband from the festival you’re attending (2014 VK wristbands are not fashionable), and that’s about it. Hell, forget jewellery altogether.
Your festival outfit shouldn’t have any shirt buttons that aren’t there to keep your shirt together. Bags Ah, yes: the dependable bag. Festival veterans will know that having your hands free is paramount.
There’s nothing worse than constantly checking if you’ve dropped your phone/wallet/camera/keys EVERYTHING IS LOSING ITS FUCKING PLACE because you can’t feel them stuffed into your pocket. I cannot stress this enough. Get a bag.
Shoulder bags, canvas totes, battered leather satchels: pick something that feels comfortable, but won’t autumn apart if it rains (remember: it will rain). Funky handmade bags are cool, sure, but don’t be that guy who has to explain where his bag is from at length. …and fanny packs? They’re so back, guys.
Bands, mum. I love hate watching people fanny-pack judgmental over something that was life-changingly useful when I was a kid. That said, when it comes to British festivals, a bum bag just might be your best option.
If, like me, you despise fanny packs due to the grotesque 00’s trend in bright coloured, rhinestone encrusted ones then calm your tits and pick something subtle. There’s never been a bigger backing for minimalist, functional nylon/polyester bum bags than right now. Take that out yer fucking pipe sir.
Clothing-wise you should aim for a uniform you can live in. I’m talking worn-in jeans you could sleep in, tees you wouldn’t think twice about tossing in the wash with your undies, and a jacket you’d still wear if it got ripped on a fence. Sound familiar?
It should. You read all that and then looked at Tom and thought “Jesus Christ, he’s give-too-harded about this isn’t he?” Meet Tom. Tom lives and breathes music festivals.
He goes to more than anyone I know and has refined his look to a fine art. Or, more specifically, the art of looking like you don’t give a shit. How does he do it? “It has to look like you couldn’t give a shit about how you look.” He tells me. “But of course you have given enough of a shit about your festival wardrobe to know that jeans, a plain white shirt, and a plain brad coat that don’t look great but aren’t terrible rep some seriously hard-to-master nonchalance.” Got it?
Think about the outfits you’ve rocked up to festivals in and felt best in. Mine, reliably, look like I’ve given up on life and just threw some random shit on because I hate myself. “But James,” I hear you cry. “I want to look ripped AF in my festival photos whilst still looking like I don’t care!” To that I say: bullshit. Let me paint you a picture.
You look amazing in your festival outfit. Photos are uploaded. Memories are made.
Your festival ends, you get home. Half your outfit falls apart in the wash. But who cares!
You look great Instagram photos, right? NO. Your festival uniform should be pieces you can live in.
A pair of jeans you’re not afraid to sleep in, shirts you don’t think twice about tossing in the wash with your boxer shorts, and a jacket you wouldn’t even hesitate to rip on a fence. Sound appealing? It should.
Here’s the thing about Tom’s festival outfits: he gives more of a shit about them than most people stress over their wedding attire. The difference is, Tom’s got so good at his neutral British festival look that nothing is too crotchety. Jeans actually look worn in rather than sweating distressed?
Shirt doesn’t have a huge pile of baby dust covering half your torso? Congratulations, you officially care way too much. Wear your clothes until they wear out.
Not literally wear them out, I haven’t work with that manfest enough to recommend that. How you wear your outfit is just as important as how you put it together. You want your clothes to look like you threw them on in the dark after snoozing your alarm clock.
But actually look stylish doing it. It should never look like you’ve tried too hard. Or spent more than an afternoon curating the perfect festival looks.
Hilariously, my laid-back fashion icon was fussing far too much over his outfit as we’s tossing back the crisps. “Trust me,” he said through a mouthful of McCoys. “By day two you want to look like you gave up caring what you look like on the first day. But obviously you cared enough about your outfit to know that ripping jeans, a grey t-shirt, and a weather beaten jacket don’t look fuckin sick but also aren’t gonna blow anyone’s mind.” Au contraire mon homme. Your outfits shouldn’t blow anyone’s mind.
Festival fashion; where we’re at. Since the late 00’s/early 10’s we’ve really seen Festival fashion hit it’s peak of … well, fashion. To soundtrack this explosion in festival-goers caring way too much about how they looked at festivals we had arguably the peak of musical Oasis reigning over Glastonbury’s famously copy cat Leeds counterpart.
Bring on the backlash, am I right? Thankfully that couldn’t be further from the truth. While 2019 festival season has arguably seen peak celebrity fashion atrocities (Glastonbury shook shoulders with Kardashian twitter feuds this year with how many festival fashion lines celebs launched before and during the bank holiday weekend), regular fest-goers have learnt to reign it back a bit.
Celebrities have learnt their lesson (mostly). The reality is that knowing how to dress for a British festival isn’t some elitist know-how you need a personal stylist to relay onto you. Dress for comfort, bring clothes that you won’t mind getting destroyed, and don’t give two fucks about how you look whilst you’re there having the time of your life.
Except Belle Hoddan.
Still giving it too hard. Mud.
Rain. Sun. Pints.
Music. Your festival style should be able to withstand all of these without you having to stress about your outfit. Throw some clothes on that you know will look lived in by the end of the first day, focus on having a good time, and leave your fashion worries at home.
Seriously. They’re probably the reason you won’t enjoy yourself. And on that ironically negative note I’ll leave you to go forth and crush British festival season with your sartorial prowess and overwhelming desire not to give a shit about how you look.
You’re welcome.
