Having come of age in the Tumblr indie sleaze era of the early 2010s, I’d always wanted to go to Glastonbury Festival. My mood boards were littered with photos of Alexa Chung traversing Worthy Farm’s muddy grounds wearing a mini skirt and wellies, and I fantasized about being part of the seemingly miles-long, flag-laden crowd that got to watch an iconic British band like Arctic Monkeys or Blur light up the Pyramid stage. So, when I moved from L.A. to London last year, I knew where I would be come the last weekend of June.
As the festival approached, I purchased my first pair of Hunter boots, haphazardly
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