Dear beaded, fringed and tie-dyed headbands,
Have you checked your hipster-calendars recently? It’s finally Coachella, this weekend! Or Headband-New Year, as we call it. Sure, people are excited about the music—after all, between Florence and the Machine, The Black Keys and The Weeknd, the lineup is killer this year. But I? I’m more excited about watching your sartorial displays jazz up the desert valley landscape.
Because, dear headbands, it just wouldn’t be Coachella without you.
I remember when I first saw you years ago, pressing down on the vaguely rumpled hair of Nicole Ritchie… or was it Kate Bosworth? Sure, her cut off distressed shorts and shorty moccasin boots were perfect for standing in a field listening to The Killers (and other circa 2009-hipster bands), but without your bedazzling, she might as well have been naked.
Because how else would waif-like girls who are kinda into music (or at least really into getting their picture taken at festivals) let people know that they are “free spirits”? Without your ability to make a socialite look like a flower child, we would be lost. Or at least less able to guess if someone lives in L.A. (or wishes they did). Besides, without you—sweet headbands made of leather, beads, feathers or even shoelaces for the very advanced—Instagram would be a barren wasteland of bare-headed freaks. No one wants to live in that world. That world probably doesn’t even have Pinterest.
So this weekend, while a swarm of tanned Free People-clad chicks sway to Bon Iver and Dragonette, I’m excited to see you out for a full 72-hours of forehead-denting glory. Preferably covered in feathers and PBR-tinged sweat.
So thanks for your hard work, headbands. And we’ll see you next year.
Or the next time we see Ke$ha.