On Festival Fun at Splendour in the Grass

What do bindis, paisley bandannas, headscarves, sunglasses and flower crowns all have in common? Well, they all adorned my head last weekend at the Splendour in the Grass festival. Imagine hundreds of tents, thousands of people, hours of incredible music, litres of ‘boxed wine’ (read: goon), rows and rows of market stalls and immeasurable numbers of good memories and you may just have a vague idea of what Splendour is about. To be honest, I don’t think you’ll ever truly know until you go for yourself.

We, perhaps naively, made the decision to roadtrip from Melbourne to Byron Bay (an twenty hour drive altogether). A 5:30am start was aided by countless coffees and a good luck dream catcher. There is something so exhilarating about driving along the open road as the sun comes up. A night in Port Maquarie was sorely needed and excitement ensued as we passed the Big Banana but otherwise the time was spent belting out the songs we were most keen to hear in the coming days.

Splendour in the Grass is, first and foremost, a music festival and all other activities were scheduled around a diverse and exciting timetable of singers, bands and djs. Highlights included Asgeir, whose heavenly Icelandic tones mellowed the largest of crowds, and Grouplove, who did the exact opposite. Despite a few last minute hiccups in international act attendance the shows ran seamlessly. Nostalgia was evoked as we attempted to ‘shake it like a Polaroid picture’ with Outkast and Ball Park Music went fully Bohemian in the name of the festival with their Queen rendition. Three days and nights of singing at the top of my lungs ensured that my voice was reduced to a hoarse whisper come Monday.

Festival fashions kept eyes wide as every time I thought you couldn’t wear less (or more), someone did. The ‘Very Small Mall’ kept wallets empty with a The Iconic stall keeping busy selling Hunter gumboots to those who suddenly realised they sorely needed them. Local stores were represented (like Byron Bay’s own Spell) and market stalls kept feather, dream catcher, bindi, poncho and crystal stocks high. My highlight was the Liberated Heart store where I engaged my inner psychedelic kaleidoscope with bright coloured pieces in fabrics like velvet and lycra.

I wasn’t the only one: everywhere you turned there were girls flaunting this distinctive style. I even caught a glimpse of the instagram infamous model, Mimi Elashiry as I perused the store (and felt rather starstruck while at it).

It wouldn’t be me without commenting on the food and some Melbourne favourites made their appearance. My first Taco Truck experience was delightful with soft floury tortillas around juicy, tender chicken. Just go easy on the hot sauce: they don’t lie on the bottle. Every cuisine was well represented with shoutouts going to Owen’s noodles for the best takeaway noodles around, Sydney’s Eat Art Truck featuring Japanese flavours through a large pile of mayo covered pulled beef and the Harihar chai stand for my nourishing cacao and maca almond milk smoothie. Who says you can’t eat healthfully at music festivals?

I’ve barely even touched on what Splendour in the Grass had to offer. Comedy, politics, yoga and meditation were just some of the extracurricular activities: you could even hone your circus skills. I left unwashed, hungover, exhausted and with the back of a ninety year old from sleeping on the ground facing an eighteen hour car ride home and every bit was worth it. In fact leaving an atmosphere like that was difficult: buzzing with excitement, community minded, everyone only wanting to be your friend, sharing camping space with your neighbours and relaxing by day with no stress, no pressure and no worries. These days were some of the best of my life: some that I will never, ever forget. Back to reality, I suppose.