I have this photo from a music festival in the Cotswolds last summer that perfectly sums up why I’m probably the wrong person to give festival fashion advice, yet here we are anyway. I’m standing next to the main stage looking, honestly, pretty decent – my hair’s still mostly in place, my outfit’s coordinated, I’m even wearing actual makeup that hasn’t completely migrated down my face. The kicker? It’s literally the only photo from the entire weekend where I don’t look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards by someone who really had it in for hedges.
The thing about British festival fashion is that it’s basically an exercise in damage control disguised as self-expression. You can plan the perfect outfit, check the weather forecast obsessively, pack for every possible scenario, and you’ll still end up looking like you’ve been through some kind of beautiful, musical apocalypse by day two. But I’ve been going to festivals for over a decade now – everything from the massive corporate affairs to tiny indie gatherings where the “backstage area” is literally someone’s garden shed – and I’ve learned there’s a way to do this without completely surrendering your dignity to the mud gods.
Look, I get why people just give up and embrace the chaos. Festival fashion on social media is either completely impractical Instagram fantasy (have these people ever been to a festival where it rains? In Britain? Which is most of them?) or full survival mode where style has left the building entirely. Neither approach really works if you’re someone who, you know, still wants to feel like yourself while watching bands and getting progressively more covered in mysterious field substances.
My approach has evolved into what I call “strategic festival dressing” – which sounds way more organized than it actually is, but bear with me. It’s basically about finding that sweet spot between looking put-together and not crying when your outfit gets destroyed by weather that changes every fifteen minutes because, well, Britain.
Starting from the ground up, because footwear is genuinely make-or-break territory. I’ve seen too many festival casualties involving completely inappropriate shoes. Those white trainers everyone swears by? They’ll be brown within minutes. Anything involving suede? Just don’t. The standard advice is wellies, which, fine, they work for mud but they’re absolutely miserable for walking around in all day. Your feet end up feeling like they’ve been stored in sweaty plastic bags.
My compromise has been these Danner hiking boots that cost more than my monthly coffee budget but have survived multiple festivals and still look decent enough to wear to brunch afterward. They’re waterproof, actually comfortable for walking (revolutionary concept), and don’t make me look like I’m about to tackle a particularly challenging farm situation. Cost per wear at this point makes them practically free, which is how I justify most of my expensive purchases to myself anyway.
The trouser situation is equally critical. Shorts seem obvious but there’s nothing worse than being stuck in shorts when the temperature drops, which it will, usually right when your favorite band comes on. I’ve settled on these loose cotton trousers in dark colors that pack small and dry quickly. They’re not exciting but they’re the reliable friend of my festival wardrobe – always there when I need them, never letting me down, occasionally making me look more pulled-together than I have any right to.
I’ve also become a convert to the dress-over-trousers combination, which sounds weird but actually works brilliantly. Last year at Green Man I wore this bright printed dress from a sustainable brand (can’t remember which one, sorry, too many ciders) over black leggings. Sun comes out? Roll up the leggings. Temperature drops? Full coverage. It’s not revolutionary but it kept me comfortable while still feeling like I’d made some effort.
The real game-changer has been treating knitwear as a legitimate festival essential. A lightweight cardigan or jumper that ties around your waist during the day becomes absolutely essential when evening hits and you realize you’re in a field and it’s actually quite cold now. I picked up this oversized men’s cardigan from Uniqlo last year that’s been to three festivals and counting. Navy, cotton, actual functional pockets – basically perfect.
Outerwear deserves serious thought because you will need it, regardless of how optimistic the forecast looks. The classic approach is the pac-a-mac – lightweight, waterproof, stuffs into a bag. But they’re not exactly sophisticated. My upgrade has been a proper waterproof jacket from Rains that still packs down well but doesn’t make me look like I’m wearing an emergency poncho. Black goes with everything and doesn’t immediately scream “I’ve given up on looking good.”
For those really committed to style even in downpours, a knee-length waterproof coat is worth considering. Stutterheim makes beautiful ones that almost make you hope for rain as an excuse to wear them. They’re expensive but they transform what could be a miserable experience into something approaching Scandinavian chic.
Accessories are where you can actually have some fun regardless of weather conditions. Hats serve double duty – sun protection and disguising increasingly dramatic hair situations as the weekend progresses. I have this wide-brimmed canvas hat from Weekday that cost about £20 and has survived being sat on, rained on, and used as an emergency fan during unexpected heatwaves. Baseball caps are easier but I like the slightly more sophisticated vibe of a proper hat.
The bag situation is crucial. Cross-body leaves your hands free for drinks and enthusiastic dancing, but rarely fits everything you need. Small backpack is more practical but less stylish. My compromise has been a decent-sized leather bum bag worn cross-body rather than around the waist – I have some standards, even in a field. Mine’s from & Other Stories, cost more than I care to admit for essentially a belt with a pocket, but fits phone, cash, lip balm, sunscreen, and emergency supplies without making me look like I’m on a school trip.
Jewelry needs careful consideration in festival contexts. Those statement earrings look amazing but are you willing to risk losing them in a crowd? Delicate necklaces will tangle beyond repair after a day of jumping around. My solution is usually one bold piece – earrings sturdy enough to survive dancing – and keep everything else minimal.
Beauty approach requires similar strategic thinking. Full festival glitter is fun but you’ll be finding sparkles in unmentionable places weeks later. I’ve evolved into what I call “strategic enhancement” – bold, waterproof eyeliner that won’t immediately give me panda eyes, cream blush that doesn’t need precise application, maybe a bright lip if I’m feeling festive. Anything requiring detailed application gets abandoned because festival toilets are not conducive to makeup touch-ups, trust me on this.
The real secret I’ve discovered is sticking to a limited color palette. When everything needs to work together with limited packing space, coordinated colors become essential. My formula is maximum three colors that all play nicely together. Last year was navy, white, and bright yellow – cheerful enough for festival vibes but cohesive when pieces got mixed and matched according to weather demands.
But honestly, the most important thing is the mindset adjustment. Accept that you will get dirty. Accept that your carefully planned outfit will need to adapt to conditions completely beyond your control. Accept that comfort ultimately wins over the perfect photo when you’re on day three of field living. The truly stylish festival-goer isn’t trying to look like they just stepped out of a magazine – it’s the person who’s prepared for anything while maintaining some sense of personal style.
My packing has become this system that allows maximum adaptability with minimum thinking required. Everything coordinates with everything else. Each piece serves multiple purposes or weather conditions. Nothing precious comes along. And I always include one completely impractical item that serves no purpose except making me happy. Last year it was this ridiculous fringed kimono-style jacket that was neither waterproof nor warm but made me feel fabulous dancing as the sun set.
The real festival fashion inspiration I’ve encountered over the years isn’t the expected uniform of denim shorts and flower crowns. It’s women like the one I met at End of the Road, probably in her fifties, wearing sturdy boots with a bright printed dress and excellent hat, looking comfortable and effortlessly stylish while everyone around her struggled with impractical choices. Or my friend who somehow managed to wear the same vintage jumpsuit for three days straight without looking wrinkled or dirty – still trying to figure out how she managed that one.
What these women understand is that festival fashion isn’t about copying what you see online – it’s about adapting your actual personal style to challenging conditions. Finding that balance between practicality and self-expression. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best.
The most sophisticated approach to festival dressing isn’t trying to pretend you’re not at a festival – it’s acknowledging the reality of British festival conditions while refusing to completely surrender to the “I’ve given up” aesthetic. It’s bringing clothes you actually like and would wear in real life, just adapted for field conditions. Accepting that mud happens but still caring about how you look.
Last summer at this small festival in Wales where it rained so persistently I started wondering if we were experiencing some kind of biblical weather event, I found myself sheltering under a food tent next to this elegantly dressed woman in her sixties. Despite the apocalyptic conditions, she looked remarkably put-together in a waxed jacket, well-cut jeans, and boots that had clearly seen many festivals before. “The secret,” she told me, watching me admire her somehow-still-perfect appearance, “is to dress for the festival you’re actually at, not the one you wish you were at.”
So as festival season approaches and social media fills up with completely unrealistic outfit inspiration, I’ll be planning with hard-won pragmatism. Pieces that layer according to temperature changes. One waterproof layer that doesn’t destroy everything underneath. Boots that handle mud without screaming “I’ve completely given up.” And always, always a bright lipstick, because sometimes a pop of color is all you need to elevate mud-splattered practicality into something approaching actual style. See you in the fields – I’ll be the one looking smugly prepared while desperately hoping my weather app got it right this time.
By day, Jasmine works in finance. By night, she writes about making corporate fashion actually interesting. Her Boston wardrobe proves office-appropriate doesn’t have to mean boring, and that investment dressing can be both powerful and personal.
