NO-CHELLA

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As every woman, man, child, dog, cat and fish knows, this past weekend was home to the annual meeting of every flower-crown-fur-jacket-bindi-lingerie-as-clothes hipsters – Coachella. Those of us who aren’t lucky enough to go, usually disparage to the nth degree – “Ugh. Another Coachella post. I’m so sick of this.”, or “it’s not even that great of a lineup! Like, it’s only Beyonce.” – but deep down inside, I know we all share the same burning desire to be out in the Californian desert, soaking up all the insane music (its only Beyonce???!!!), socialising with celebrities, drinking way too many vodka-redbulls and taking 50, 000, 000 photos of our outfits.

Instead of wearing thigh high boots and 10 kilos worth of jewellery, I injected some festival flavour into my day-to-day ensembles, experimenting with my eyeshadow instead of dousing myself in glitter, and drinking tea instead of vodka-redbulls. It was ok. (It wasn’t.)

Wearing: velvet flares by Arnhem, tee by RCVA, ankle booties by Senso, hat by Don’t Ask Amanda, bag by Topshop.

Photography by Hannah Rowell