This year’s Coachella was akin to walking onto a vibrant, living work of art—a sun-kissed expanse bursting with color, texture, and the kind of self-expression that’s usually confined to the private sphere. We joined the electric mix of art installations and immersive performances, using the as-good-as-it-gets California weather as the perfect staging ground for some of the gallery-worthy outfits that were on display. It was another day in the perfect storm of not just why to go to Coachella but also how to achieve a kind of unattainable-but-inspiring-for-always-in-the-ethereal-realms-of-ranch-life look that we call boho chic.
As I maneuvered through the maze of stages and popup boutiques, I was immediately struck by how effortlessly modern trends twined with the vintage aesthetics that have long defined boho style. I remember looking at an eye-catching outfit worn by an emerging influencer and, in that moment, I was almost transported back to the early 2000s. The resemblance really was uncanny, and I couldn’t help but think of a contemporary version of the Kate Moss that I used to see on the cover of nearly any given fashion magazine.
The influencer mixed distressed denim with a hand-embroidered kimono (very “Them,”); punctuating her look with a pair of weathered leather boots and “why-not-these?” eclectic accessories (very “Us”). Reflecting on the way my own wardrobe has changed over the years, I now see two strong currents influencing its evolution. The first is what I would call “fashioned nostalgia”: the present-day allure of styling with vintage finds, which are seemingly more available and desirable than ever.
The second is the undeniable power of what people are doing with fashion right here and now, across the globe—and how we, in turn, are seeing and somewhat recreating that power in our own visual landscapes. Over the course of these three podcasts, I have a feeling you will hear (and see) the stories of “my wardrobe” oftentimes quite vividly. It was not only the garments that underscored the event; it was a way of life that extolled creativity, freedom, and the art of reinvention.
As I maneuvered through the crowds, I caught glimpses of the past—vintage T-shirts that were a modern nod to the bands whose music had once turned up the volume in my life; beads and crystals strung into necklaces or woven into hair that were a tribute to the never-ending decade of the 1970s; and even some of the unmistakable bohemian styles that had once defined me. These throwbacks made me think about what truly defines style. Is it the clothes?
The way we wear them? The way we accessorize? Or is it the era we happen to be in as we do all of the above?
One of the moments that really stood out for me was during a rooftop party that burst into being after we sat through a very laid-back, late-afternoon performance by one of my favorite indie bands. The soirée was a small affair—dare I say intimate?—made all the more so by the light strung all around and the glow of the setting sun that was quickly transitioning into a piece of street art (every urban sunset is a piece of street art, I maintain). I found myself in conversation with a designer—a bit of a vintage and timeless piece herself, I must say—who had worked previously with everybody’s favorite fashion icon, Diane von Furstenberg.
And I think what I mostly took away from what he was saying is that the whole “boho chic” thing—my words, not his, but sometimes I’m not so sure what words to use and what words to avoid—isn’t about following a trend, but is, instead, about one part dressing (or undressing), one part lifestyle, and one part favoritism toward pieces that are so nonchalant yet simultaneously so well-curated that one can’t help but notice that the wearer has distinct taste. In the days leading up to the festival, I had been playing with the layering techniques that pair comfort and style. I discovered that by putting together a vintage embroidered vest with a sleek modern jumpsuit, I could create an ensemble that felt both nostalgically familiar and daringly fresh.
This blend of eras is something I’ve seen echoed on the runways during New York Fashion Week, where both established houses and emerging designers reinterpret the now-defunct bohemian aesthetic with a contemporary new twist. It’s a dialogue between the old and the new. It’s a balance that speaks to the heart of what boho chic represents: a celebration of “looks weird, must be art” individuality that doesn’t sacrifice the everyday comfort of practical wear.
The vivid experience at Coachella reminded me how fashion transcends the act of simply dressing up. It’s about embodying a lifestyle and embracing imperfection. It’s about art and daring to mix high art with the kinds of artists that fill our everyday lives.
I remember catching sight of a veteran artist—someone whose work had graced the cover of a recent issue of Elle—that, oh so casually mentioned, “The best outfits are the ones that come with a story.” That simple statement really clicked with me and resonated with me as I wandered past the booths of “Airstream artists” selling everything from hand-woven scarves to ethically sourced jewelry. I mean, really, have you looked closely at the things you buy and the stories they tell? What really surprised me was how effortlessly adaptable boho chic is to the different places one might find oneself, from a sun-baked festival in the desert to a Los Angeles loft, as the evening shadows settle in.
I saw many young creative types working the festival, living the looks and somehow managing to layer a daytime festival vibe over a nighttime loft event with the same care they took in dressing for the morning sun. If anything, I sensed a refinement in how the young creatives of this festival are deploying a polished, urban, upcycled kind of chic that speaks to today’s tastemaker. To my way of seeing, this convergence of polished appearance and upcycled practices amounts to a conversation on sustainable fashion—no matter how much one pays attention to the conversation panels during the festival.
In all of this, it was inevitable that I would think about the influencers I have followed over the years. They are the ones who seem to always champion authenticity over trend-chasing, whether that trend is to wear all the earthy tones of fall or all the pastel shades of spring. I thought about those influencers as I watched these well-heeled festival-goers walk around Coachella.
Just as the outfits I had seen on social media before heading to the desert had inspired some of my looks, so, too, had the outfits I had seen on those influencers who followed a more personal style paradigm. And while I enjoyed wearing what I wore at Coachella, I felt a much stronger, more profound connection to the outfits that those around me had also put together. As I think about the weekend, I see that boho chic is not just a style but instead a mindset—a commitment to the beauty of imperfection, to the artistry of everyday life, and to the constant evolution of both creators and consumers of style.
Coachella may have come and gone, but the inspiration it provides in wardrobe risk-taking is practically limitless. And what’s more, the path of personal style and the exciting, almost flirtatious, game of discovering hidden local markets or reimagining almost-roadside-vintage pieces into head-turning contemporary outfits is anything but boring. This festival season reaffirmed a truth many in the fashion world hold dear: that being real always stands out.
It’s not about going after the next huge trend or copycatting a big star’s red-carpet ensemble; it’s about connecting with the clothes we put on our bodies and the narratives they offer. I came away from Coachella with a renewed sense of mission, a stash of gorgeous garments that felt both timely and timeless, and an unshakeable belief in the way of being truly stylish that’s as much about the journey as it is about the destination.
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