Vogue Australia - 09.2019

(Steven Felgate) #1

148


VOGUE CULTURE


AMONG ALL THE takes on Woodstock, an iconic event
that celebrated its 50th anniversary this August, none may
be as timeless as musician Neil Young’s retelling to Charlie
Rose. “It was something special. We were just realising:
‘We are a generation, we are somebody ... we are making
a difference,’” he told the American TV journalist in a 2014
interview. “[We realised] the music is not a commodity
or content. The music is the life of the thing.”
Woodstock was not the first festival of its kind, but its
legend is cemented in history: one rain-soaked weekend,
400,000 people and a line-up that included Janis Joplin,
Jimi Hendrix, Santana and the Who. Young was against
the onstage filming of the documentary, which was
released under the same name a year later and even won
an Academy Award. “These guys with their cameras all
over the stage were in the way of the music and the people,
and they were a distraction. The music was for us, and this
thing was in between it.” For him, video killed the festival
vibe. “It made it a pose instead of a sound.”
Whether it’s Kate Moss in a micro-dress and Wellington
boots at Glastonbury, Selena Gomez in a floppy hat
a Coachella or supermodels diving off a yacht promoting
the ill-fated Fyre Festival, the international music festival is
often a pose. A reflection and an accelerator of youth culture,
pop culture and style (‘festival’ is now an entire fashion
micro-season), many have wondered if the mythology of the
festival has, over time, become less about the music.
How many looks versus line-ups do you remember? Think
back to mid-2000s Glastonbury. Kate Moss, Coldplay, Alexa
Chung, Sienna Miller, Lilly Allen and a number of other
artists rocked the enfant terrible grittiness fashion loved at the
time. We pored over the boho-muddiness of the Glasto look
and copy/pasted it into our blogspots. Then came the
Californians: a cleaner, sparklier and more luxurious version
of boho-chic introduced by Los Angeles It girls of the
noughties. Their festival playground? Coachella.
For music fans, Coachella was put on the global map
thanks to a now-legendary set by French duo Daft Punk in
2006, a Tupac Shakur hologram in 2012 and a number of big
acts emerging from a hiatus. But its legend – and branding –
has always rested on its luxury laurels. Instead of schlepping
through mud and rain, Coachella’s attendees drifted through
grassy lawns and relaxed on garden chairs against a
backdrop of the San Bernardino mountains or a branded
media wall. It flaunted comfort, VIP, poolside parties and

that Californian glitz written into the sartorial playbook by
Rachel Zoe. Fast-forward a few years and the supermodels,
Kardashians and influencers have taken over. In 2019, the
summer of ’69-dressing is over, moving to a high-end, logo-
stamped athleisure mood of ‘wellness’, and the oddest trend
of Splendour ’19: ass-less chaps and cowgirl braids.
The idea of a day or weekend of escapism shared with
friends, with enough hype to get you through the work
week and reminisce about for years to come remains the
essence of festival culture. This includes lifestyle-driven
festivals, like food, beer or idea festivals as well. Just look at
the success of Dark Mofo, Vivid Sydney, Rainbow Serpent
Festival, Tamworth Country Music Festival and overseas
bucket-list events like Burning Man, Primavera Sound,
Sónar and Iceland Airwaves. They pair a cleverly curated
line-up of music with unique FOMO-inducing experiences.
Let’s not forget: if it wasn’t for the incredible Instagram-
filtered sell of azure beaches and partying with the most
beautiful one per cent, thousands of people wouldn’t have
been sucked into the Fyre Festival dumpster fire.
“Creating moments is an important part of our festival,”
says Jean-François Ponthieux, founder of boutique music
festival So Frenchy So Chic. “So we have a garden party
experience aimed at discovery and creating special
memories.” Attended by influencers, fashion lovers,
Francophiles and families, So Frenchy is one of the most
meticulously themed small festivals in Australia. Think
Yé-yé-era fashion, crafted picnic spreads, barefoot dancing,
joie de vivre and a female-majority line-up of French acts.
“We know it helps spread the world, but we don’t do it for
Instagram,” says Ponthieux. “We host the hottest and most-
loved acts from France; not everyone will know who they
are. So we like to offer something alongside our acts that is
a unique and genuine cultural experience – an escape.”
Festivals are an expensive undertaking, and this is where
valuable commercial partnerships and on-brand alignment
have come into play. Brands like Rimmel, The Iconic, Contiki,
Durex, Volkswagen, Lancôme, Icebergs, Mary’s and
Chiswick dining have all set up side of stage. “Not everyone
wants to watch a band for 24 hours, three days in a row. You
might want to get a coffee or do something else,” says Emily
Collins, managing director at Music NSW, a not-for-profit
organisation that supports the sustainability of the music
industry in the state. “I think festival promoters are
understanding that patrons need different things to

In the 50 years since Woodstock, music festivals have morphed into a billion-dollar
industry complete with sponsored posts, media walls and a fashion micro-season.
How did this happen, and what’s next? By Noelle Faulkner.

FIELDS OF GOLD


Spectators on top
of a painted bus at
Woodstock, in 1969.

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