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Wednesday, April 18, 2012

yeah, I guess it's some kind of music festival







Coachella: The music festival where girls with impossibly long femurs convene in a bunch of Wellies and perfectly ripped denim shorts to get photographed for Street Style blogs. I'm pretty sure it exists only to document what Kate Bosworth is wearing every year.

Don't mind me, I'm just sipping haterade because I didn't get to witness the holographic zombie Tupac perform with Snoop Dogg. That must have been a bad moment to be on drugs.

8 comments:

  1. They are lucky I didn;t go the year Beyonce came out with Jay Z. There would be no lasophia because I would have died. Im that lame. I was telling my boyfriend that this Coachella business is now a world famous style. I would only go if I was rich and VIP and could get in and out in a day.

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  2. So much amazingness!! Looking at photos from Coachella always brings me back in time, haha
    http://www.closet-fashionista.com/

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  3. Love Diane Kruger! Super simple and super chic!

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  4. This is the best post on the internet today. I am laughing so hard right now.

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  5. InnyVinny is correct. You win at the internets today!

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  6. trololol. coachella is annoying (not the festival itself, the overhyping on blogs). if I see another 'boho-hippie' wearing denim shorts, something crochet and a shitload of feathers, I'm gonna lose it. I swear, it's even worse than fashion week mania.

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  7. If it makes you feel any better, these girls have really skinny legs. :) You look better than any of them any time. Wellies are mood killers at their best, my opinion anyway.
    Hope your week starts off well.
    Colin.

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  8. hahaha.. great post! I had no idea it was 2 weekends this year? I had to admit it was fun to see who could "out boho" each other this year. Man so different than my festival experiences. I think I wore sweatpants and a backpack so I could put my miller lite cans and toilet paper in. Lost my flip flops half way through Beastie Boys concert. After 3 days of no showering, (you wouldn't want to even go near the portapotties, trust me) same clothes, same fucking people knocking on my tent trying to sell us homemade shit, believe me, I was ready to leave.

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