By Harriet Stewart
Its begun. That time of year when, for some reason, we throw ourselves headfirst into what can only be described as some sort of cider-soaked marathon. The rain, the mud, and - oh, god - the camping. From one weekend to another, we soldier on (terribly British), wrestling our way through the crowds, jumping around around in wellies and pac-a-macs.
There is one glorious exception to the rule, of course, where the sun always shines, they serve Champagne (yes, really), and there is no mud.
So (all in the name of research) we dug out the sequins, dusted off the feathers, and, armed with a suitcase full of boho dresses (well, if you cant beat them, join them), headed to Palm Springs for a lesson in festival-ing the Californian way.
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Day one began with a lazy morning by the pool at our home for the weekend, the Colony Palm Hotel, before we headed to the festival to soak up the last of the Californian sun to a soundtrack of Haim, Ellie Goulding and Chromeo.
In between catching the stellar line-up (and several food and drink stops) we caught up with Jourdan Dunn, who told us she was channeling a boho-gangsta look and was loving the people-watching. With a VIP area containing more celebrities than you can shake a stick at, its no surprise.
Heres what we learnt on day one:
Outkast are really, really good live
Californians make great burritos
Its really hot in the desert
Boho is still very much alive