Coachella 2012: Cold-chella, or did I really wear flip-flops?
As the ruthless wind whips my bleached blond locks into a frenzy, I stand lamely in the VIP area wrestling desperately with the computer issues that are a perennial of festival coverage -- my toes red and round and swollen. I would have done much better wrapping my little piggies in wool socks and combat boots.
Aaron Paul, the meth-addicted protagonist of “Breaking Bad,” rushes by my post wearing a toasty hoodie and jeans and bearing a tasty snack. I suddenly feel ridiculous.
“I’m paying extra attention to fashion this year,” says a good musician friend -- the wife of a former Coachella semi-headliner -- while Jimmy Cliff belts out cold-drenched strains of the song “Ruby Soho” by Rancid. “Apparently no one got the memo that Pocahontas headbands are out.”
An impossibly skinny model gets her picture taken nearby. Her tiny legs red and mottled blue.
Coachella 2012 is for Eskimos.
-- Jessica Gelt
Photo: Laura Newton, left, Lucy Holme and Louise Watkins of Britain, attending their first Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival, use garbage bags to ward off the drizzle. Credit: Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times