With August creeping in, we were able to sneak in one more outing, this time for a music festival in our exotic neighbor to the east: Iowa. As it turns out, I *might* be too old/bougie to see bands in this format much longer (at least without the aid of a pop-up camper). The main attraction was Ryan Adams, and there were a few other shows we wanted to catch, including Foxygen, The Head and the Heart, and Gary Clark, Jr..
Also, Dwight Yoakam was there. I'll come back to that.
Look, I'm not going to sugarcoat this: music festivals lend themselves to some heinous fashion choices. Camouflage cargo shorts, tye-dye, Chalcos (w/socks!), batik/tribal prints, and fringed ankle booties as far as the eye can see. This is a setting where function > fashion for sure. In other words, not an environment in which I naturally flourish.
Let's get to the outfits, shall we?
For Friday afternoon, I kept things low-key cute with one of my favorite vintage tee's, a button down mid-length skirt, and a scarf that I've been really into all summer.
Saturday: Cool and cloudy all day long, baby! We ventured out to Des Moines for lunch, and I have to give a shout out to the veggie patty I had at Zombie Burger. This was the most craving- satisfying fast foodish cheeseburger I've had since I stopped eating meat. 10/10, would recommend.
Annnnyway, outfits. Since it was so pleasantly cool, I was able to do this daisy-rainbow-gingham combo. The look made me feel a little more refined; like I was sipping lemonade on a porch instead of drinking boxed wine out of a coffee mug.
Finally, for the Saturday night shows, I wanted to lean into a 1969 Newport Folk Festival vibe, as opposed to a 1998 Phish show aesthetic. I love the saturated gem-tones of this dress, and the fabric is reminiscent of a potato-sack in the best way possible. The sandals I'm wearing here basically disintegrated right after these pics were shot, as if by some sort of festival black magic.
Dress: Scout Dry Goods and Trade, Necklace: Buffalo Exchange, Shoes: Born, super old, sacrificed to the festival gods
OK--before I go--let's talk about Dwight. His crowd banter definitely had white nationalism overtones. Color me unsurprised. He also taught me about yet another musical genre I didn't know was a thing--Cowpunk. That's right, it's a mix of mohawks and fiddles, prison tattoos and stand-up bass players. It's an internet rabbit hole you don't want to go down, folks. Stick to your yacht rock.
It's time to put the camping equipment away and start thinking about my day job, y'all. Stay tuned next week for a categorical list of all the reasons why dresses rule and jeans drool.