Your Facebook feed has already been inundated with posts from the humble bragger; “Not long till Hideout with the lads. Gonna b a heavy 1 ;p”. That’s right, festival season is almost upon us and with it come some of the worst types of people you’ll ever encounter. Whether you’re wading through waist deep mud at Glasto or k-holing in a portaloo at Creamfields, here’s a guide to who you might expect to meet along the way…
The Bucket Hats:
Reviving 90s culture, the reintroduction of the bucket hat is a relatively new phenomenon. Ironically, the fisherman’s guise is predominantly donned by teens and twenty-somethings whose only recollection of nineties culture was mourning the death of their Tamagotchi pet, and the release of ‘Spice World’ on cassette.
Often paired with an oversized Stussy T-shirt, an Adidas Superstar jacket and pristine white socks pulled to mid-calf, you’ll find the Bucket Hats in their natural habitat listening to a questionable ‘House‘ DJ with their jaws swinging more than Billie Holiday.
What can I say? That’s what you get when you let hipsters watch ‘This Is England ’90’ on Channel 4 catch-up.
The Essex Boys:
These guys aren’t here for the music. They’re here to show off the rock-hard results of replacing happiness with the gym, casual steroid abuse and sun beds.
Come rain, shine, snow or tsunamis, the shirt is an unnecessary burden to these festival goers. You will find them in the Bacardi tent at V Festival, donning eye-wateringly tight denim shorts and a (definitely fake) Louis Vuitton or Gucci bag strapped across the middle of their chest.
If you’re still unsure how to spot a member of this epidemic, listen out for jangling Nitrous canisters in their pockets or phrases such as “lads on tour”, “she’s a sort” and “fancy a cheeky Nandos, mate?”.
The Cultural Appropriators:
“I may not be Hindu, but this Claire’s Accessories ‘Bindi’ sure looks good with my cornrows and Native American headdress.”
Fortunately, it’s unlikely you’ll meet someone with ‘black face’ in the year 2016, but cultural appropriation remains a widely accepted novelty of festival season. It was essentially invented by the Kardashian family and leaves me feeling dead inside.
The Disillusioned Teens:
Talent agents are often in full-force at festivals, scanning for potential teenagers to corrupt with the modelling industry. But, without intending to crush your conceited dreams, the chances of you being scouted are about as slim as a Peperami.
You may think you’re channeling your inner queen with your thigh skimming skirt and unnecessary wellies at Coachella, but narcissism is a funny thing. Unfortunately, it’s more likely you’ll be scouted to feature in an amateur porno by that strange man smoking crack during Ed Sheeran’s set.
The Part-Time Hippies:
You’ll find them at Secret Garden Party. They’re a free loving, peace keeping, weed toting community who are just sooo chilled, ya know?
What they don’t want you to know is that they’re just like you and me; angry little commuters cramming onto the central line for the other three-hundred-and-sixty-two days of the year, verbally abusing anyone who refuses to move down that bloody aisle.
Keep a watchful eye on your Instagram feeds on the 21st July for an abundance of boastful boob shots cleverly disguised as a ‘Free The Nipple’ campaign for the faux-fighters.
Images via Giphy.