Where to start…
From the beginning I guess.
A couple of weeks ago my buddy got given some tickets for V Festival to “work” it. As I had missed out on Glasto this year (and the AMAZING Beyoncé) she asked if I would like to join, free of charge. YES. I like festivals, I like being grubby, dressing like a hippy and being drunk. Camping is quite a fun past time, a childhood memory.
So back to V – the festival is split up over two different sites, one in the North and one in the South, with acts scooting from one to the other. My journey to and from the festival was pretty painless – car, train, tube, train, bus all moved quite swiftly. We got our VIP camping pass (that’s how we roll) and threw up the pop up tent just in time for the rain to arrive. The first few hours we spent in the teeny tent trying to work out how we can make our outfits work for ‘rainy festival’.
Unlike the festivals I have been to previously you are not given a map or timetable on entry, this is an extra cost. But what we didn’t realise is that there was no alternative, no maps or timetables anywhere to be seen. We spent the whole weekend no really knowing who was playing, where they were playing or when. Luckily we stumbled across the likes of Jessie J, Ellie Goulding, Olly Murs (I love him) and the Artic Monkeys – each of them really worth it.
Onto festival fashion… well… that’s a bit of a hard subject. Fake tan everywhere…great when it rains…really strong look. If the girls had nice legs they wore hot pants so short you could see their bottoms…and often a little more. If they had good abbs – crop top, good boobs – a bra. The amount of breasts and ‘spank me I’m naughty’ stickers was insane. There was me in my wellies wearing a tie-dye dress with flowers in my hair. The guys were all butch, and wore V-necks and vests that JLS would even shy away from.
Look… just because you work out, it doesn’t mean everyone fancies you. I don’t. At all.
I’ve never been to a festival before where every guy is out to pull, “Alright Babes”, “Oi Oi Darlin” where shouted every two minutes. Very strange.
The highlight for me was the Southern Comfort Juke Joint – it was amazing. Set up behind a giant ferris wheel was this battered old metal shack – the home of New Orleans Southern Comfort. I’ve never been a fan of Southern Comfort, ever since those weird “Soco Soco” adverts – but it was fantastic. The cocktails were fruity and ice-cold. The DJ’s played a great variety of music to get the crowds dancing and they even had actors wandering around dancing with us. At a couple of points members of a brass band got up on the tables and joined in with the music. It really was amazing.
All in all, a weird but wonderful weekend was had. I probably wouldn’t pay to go there, but I definitely need to find the Juke Joint at some other festivals.
Bye Bye Essex, it was nice meeting you.