Coachella Survival Guide: Hot Mess Edition (I Made All the Mistakes So You Don’t Have To)

So, you’re going to Coachella. You’ve seen the glamorous Insta pics—flower crowns, sparkly outfits, palm trees at sunset. You’re ready for magical festival moments. Well, pump those fringed brakes, friend. As a self-proclaimed Coachella hot mess survivor, I’m here to deliver some real-talk tips to help you actually survive the desert madness. I did everything wrong my first time—wore the wrong shoes, camped in Satan’s sauna, got stranded in Uber hell, nearly mortgaged my house for a taco—so you don’t have to. Consider this your guide to thriving at Coachella with minimal blisters, bankruptcies, or breakdowns. Let’s get into it.

What to Wear to Coachella (Hint: Comfort Over Fashion)

Coachella is basically a multi-day marathon disguised as a music festival. You’ll be walking, dancing, and standing a lot. Those cute booties or gladiator sandals that perfectly match your boho outfit? Leave them at home unless you fancy ending up barefoot and blistered by day’s end. Wear comfortable shoes, period—you’ll be clocking miles on the polo fields, and your feet will thank you. Trust me, I hobbled out of Weekend One with blisters because I had to rock my cowboy boots. Never again. Opt for broken-in sneakers or sturdy boots that can handle dust and endless walking.

And it’s not just shoes—apply the comfort-over-fashion rule to your whole outfit. Sure, fringe, sequins, and mesh look amazing in photos, but consider the reality: 100°F heat, dust storms, and possibly sitting on grass (or dirt) between sets. Flowy cotton, breathable fabrics, and a hat & sunglasses will serve you better than a studded leather jacket or suede anything. Reality check: that elaborate outfit might become a sweat-drenched, dust-covered mess by hour two. Dress cute and practical—it’s possible! (Pro tip: If your outfit makes you question how to go to the porta-potty, pick something simpler). In short: function > fashion at Coachella. You can still look stylish, but if you can’t walk or you’re melting, no one’s admiring your ensemble anyway.

Skip the Camping—Get a Hotel (Trust Me)

Repeat after me: “I will not camp at Coachella.” Unless you genuinely enjoy sweltering in a tent and waking up feeling like beef jerky, do yourself a favor and book a hotel or Airbnb in Palm Desert, Palm Springs, or anywhere with air conditioning. I made the mistake of camping my first year thinking “it’ll be part of the experience!” The experience, alright—the experience of no A/C, no proper sleep, communal showers of dubious cleanliness, and 7am sunlight turning your tent into a greenhouse. By Day 2, I was a sleep-deprived zombie with a sunburn. Never again. Now I get a nice, cold hotel room, a real bed, and a shower that doesn’t require flip-flops—luxuries you will literally cry happy tears for after 12 hours in desert dust and heat.

Staying in a hotel isn’t just bougie indulgence; it can save your festival experience. With proper rest and hygiene, you’ll actually have the energy to see more artists. Plus, safety and comfort—no worrying about your stuff getting stolen in the campground or drunkenly tripping over tent ropes at 3am. Instead, you’re in a secure room with outlets to charge your dead phone and maybe even room service. Many hotels in the area offer official Coachella shuttles from the lobby, which is a game-changer (more on shuttles in a second). Yes, hotels are pricey, but if you can swing it, the cleanliness, A/C, and real mattress are invaluable. Treat yourself—your future, not-completely-exhausted self will thank you.

Avoid Rideshare Nightmares—Take the Shuttle

Speaking of those official shuttles: use them. Do not rely on Uber or Lyft for your Coachella commute unless you enjoy surge pricing, 2 hour waits, and a healthy dose of despair. Picture this: Coachella just ended for the night, 100,000 people are spilling out, and you open your rideshare app to find a 3x surge and a pickup ETA of 2-3 hours (if the driver doesn’t cancel on you). Meanwhile, your phone is dying and you’re somewhere in a giant dark field that the Uber can’t even access. Yeah... been there, done that, cried a little inside.

Shuttles, on the other hand, are the unsung heroes. Yes, you have to buy a shuttle pass ahead of time, but it’s so worth it. The shuttles pick up from many local hotels and designated stops, then zip you to a drop-off point right near the festival entrance—closer than the Uber lot, with a shorter walk through nice grass. They run on a schedule all evening, so when you’re dead on your feet at 1 AM, you can zombie-walk to the shuttle line and be whisked back to your hotel. The lines look scary long but move quickly, and you end up on an air-conditioned bus with fellow happy (if sweaty and dusty) humans. The drivers know the back routes, so you’re not stuck in traffic jams. Bottom line: skip the rideshare chaos. Hop on the shuttle and enjoy not having to sell a kidney to get home.

Bring Plenty of Cash (Because $22 Tacos Are a Thing)

Start mentally preparing your wallet now: Coachella food is absurdly expensive. Like, “I’m sorry, how much for this tiny item?!” expensive. My rookie year, I learned the hard way when I paid $24 for a lemonade and a small single slice of pizza that would make New York pizza rats cry. It’s no secret that once you’re inside, you’re a captive audience to jaw-dropping prices. For example, you might see three tacos for nearly $20—yes, just 3 street-taco-sized tacos for nearly $20, a crime against both wallets and tacos. Novelty smoothies could run you $17, and don’t even get me started on the $25 watered down cocktails or $15 beers—you’ll debate if that buzz is really worth your budget.

So what’s a thrifty festival-goer to do? A few strategies: eat a big meal before you go in each day. Fill up on a real breakfast or lunch outside the grounds (or at your hotel) so you’re not as tempted to drop 22 bucks on artisanal truffle fries at 3 PM. Bring snacks if you can—check the festival rules, but usually sealed granola bars or small snacks are allowed in your bag. I always stash an energy bar in my fanny pack for emergency hangry moments. Also, take advantage of the free water (there are refill stations for water bottles) so you’re not constantly buying drinks. If you plan to indulge in the gourmet offerings (and okay, some of the food is delicious), budget for it. Accept that you’ll splurge and set aside a decent chunk per day for food/drinks so you’re not in sticker shock. Basically, festival food will gouge you. Either bring ample funds or prepare to subsist on protein bars and hope.

Keep Your Phone on a Leash (Literally)

Nothing kills your Coachella buzz like realizing your phone’s been swiped in the middle of a 100,000-person crowd. Unfortunately, phone theft at Coachella is a real issue—it’s basically a pickpocket’s paradise. Don’t become part of that statistic. The best way to protect your phone (and your precious photos/contacts/ride apps) is to physically secure it to yourself. I’m a huge fan of the phone lanyard/holder—a cheap crossbody phone case or lanyard that keeps your device attached to you at all times. It may not be the hottest accessory, but neither is filing a police report in the desert.

Also, consider a small lock for your backpack zippers if you carry a bag. In crazy crowds, someone can unzip and grab without you noticing. I’ve personally started using a phone leash that tethers my phone to my belt loop—it saved me when a pickpocket tried to yank my phone out during a packed headliner set; they got a surprise tug back and disappeared into the crowd empty-handed. Another tip: set a hard-to-crack lock screen password (not 0000 or your birthday) and enable Find My Phone before you head to the festival. In case the worst happens, you can at least track or wipe your phone. But ideally, if it’s physically attached to you, a thief will move on to an easier target. Keep your digital lifeline safe so you’re not stranded or missing all those epic reunion snaps.

Desert Weather Reality Check: It’s Blazing Hot, Not Freezing

Let’s talk weather. You’re heading into the California desert in April, so prepare for insane heat. Daytime temperatures regularly soar into the 90s and often hit triple digits. The sun is merciless—you will sweat in places you didn’t know you could sweat. Sunscreen is not optional unless you aspire to the cooked-lobster look; slather it on (and remember to reapply, especially if you’re dancing like crazy). A wide-brimmed hat or cap and UV-blocking sunglasses will be your MVP accessories. There are shade tents and misting areas, but when you’re out at the main stage at 4 PM, shade is a luxury. Hydration is life in this climate—drink water constantly. Take advantage of free water refill stations; bring a refillable plastic bottle or hydration pack (just not metal, those aren’t allowed). I carry a CamelBak and it’s a lifesaver.

And here’s a myth I’m gonna bust: people claim “It gets cold in the desert at night.” Okay, yes, it’s cooler—but we’re talking like 65–70°F, which is basically perfect outdoor concert weather, not arctic tundra. My first year, well-meaning friends had me pack a heavy hoodie. I ended up lugging that thing around for nothing, sweating even at midnight. 70°F isn’t cold after you’ve been baking at 100°F. You might feel a mild chill if a breeze kicks up, but a light jacket or flannel around your waist will more than suffice. Many nights I don’t put on any extra layer at all because I’m still warm from dancing. So don’t overpack cold-weather gear—this isn’t a ski trip. A thin long-sleeve or denim jacket for the late evening is fine, but you likely won’t need that puffer coat your mom is insisting you bring.

Oh, and one more weather-related foe: dust. The Coachella Valley can get windy, and when it does, the dust storms are real. By day 3, you’ll notice a gross phenomenon where you blow your nose and it’s pure dirt (sorry, but truth). The walk from the shuttle drop-off or parking can be especially sandy. Do yourself a favor and bring a bandana or dust mask to cover your nose and mouth when the wind picks up. You’ll see tons of seasoned festival-goers with bandanas around their neck—it’s not just a fashion statement, it’s lung protection. If you have sensitive eyes, consider glasses instead of contacts, or carry eye drops. Basically, Desert: 1, Lungs: 0, unless you come prepared. Wrap that bandana like you’re the most stylish train robber in the West and you’ll thank yourself when the “Coachella cough” skips you.

FOMO Is Real—Plan, But Pace Yourself

With over a hundred artists across multiple stages, overlapping set times, and art installations distracting you at every turn, Coachella can induce some serious FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). You might be staring at the schedule going, “I can totally see 5 shows back-to-back, just gotta sprint from Stage 1 to Stage 2!” News flash: you won’t. The festival grounds are huge, and navigating through crowds of thousands takes time. It can take at least 30 minutes to walk from one stage to another if they’re far apart, sometimes longer in choke-point areas where human traffic jams happen. I’ve been that idiot who left one act early, power-walked toward another stage, only to get stuck in a bottleneck of people and miss half the set—or realize I’m so far back I might as well be listening from the parking lot. Don’t be me. Accept that you can’t see everything.

Pick your must-see artists each day—the ones you’ll be devastated to miss—and plan around those. Then identify some “nice-to-see” acts and go with the flow. If two of your favorites conflict, you may have to make a tough choice (or try doing half-and-half if the stages are reasonably close, but that’s always a gamble). Arrive early for popular sets if you want a decent spot. Also, have a meet-up plan with your friends in case you split for different shows—cell reception can be patchy, so agree on a landmark (“meet by the giant Polo sign at midnight”). That way when your group’s texts aren’t going through (cell networks get overloaded), you won’t be lost and alone.

Most importantly, listen to your body and pace yourself. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. If you try to stage-hop for 12 hours straight without a break, you’re gonna burn out. It’s absolutely fine (and advisable) to take breaks—chill in a shaded area, sit on the grass, grab a cold drink, and reset. Some of my favorite Coachella memories are just lounging in the quieter corners with my crew, recharging (phones and souls) before diving back into the fray. You’ll have more fun if you’re not utterly exhausted and cranky. FOMO is natural, but missing one mid-afternoon set to hydrate and rest means you’ll enjoy the headliner more later.

Pack Light, but Pack Smart (Essentials Only)

Let’s talk packing and gear. Coachella has a strict bag size policy, so you’re likely bringing a small backpack, fanny pack, or clear bag. Space is limited—so pack smart! Here’s a quick checklist of essentials you shouldn’t skip:

• Sunscreen (non-aerosol) – You will fry under the desert sun. Reapply it, love it. (And apply on your scalp or wear a hat—sunburned dandruff is no one’s idea of fun.)
• Refillable Water Bottle or Hydration Pack – Empty plastic bottles or CamelBaks are allowed and you can refill at water stations. Stay hydrated or you’ll literally diedrate.
• Bandana or Face Mask – For the dust storms. Your nose will thank you later.
• Sunglasses – Preferably cheap ones, because fancy designer shades + mosh pit = tragic loss.
• Hat or Cap – The sun is mean. Shade your face. Plus you’ll look cool.
• Portable Charger/Battery Pack – Your phone WILL die by evening from all the photos and poor signal battery drain. A power bank can be a lifesaver.
• Earplugs – If you plan to be up front at the big tents, protect your ears!
• Hand Sanitizer & Wet Wipes – Some porta-potties run out of soap or TP; pocket tissues and sanitizer are gold.
• Cash & Card – A little cash can be faster at some vendors or in case Wi-Fi goes down.
• ID – If you plan to drink, you’ll need that 21+ ID check wristband.
• Phone Lanyard or Fanny Pack – Keep that phone secure. Zipper pockets or a crossbody bag are your friend.

That’s the core. You might also pack a light layer for evening (emphasis on light), some snacks, and any personal meds (allergy pills, pain reliever). But don’t overpack. You’ll be annoyed hauling a heavy bag in the heat. Keep it minimal—you just need the essentials to be safe, comfortable, and semi-clean. And do not bring anything you’d be heartbroken to lose or ruin. Things will get dirty, lost, or broken when you’re busy living your best life in the crowd.

Final Thoughts: Embrace the Chaos (and Have Fun)

At the end of the day, Coachella is a wild ride. It’s equal parts amazing and exhausting, euphoric and overwhelming. You’ll have moments of pure bliss (your favorite song live! gorgeous art installations! new festival friends!), and moments of “Oh god, I’m a hot mess” (dust in your eyes, sunburn on your neck, queuing for a gross porta-potty while a DJ drops the hottest beat in the distance). The key is to be prepared for the not-so-glamorous parts so they don’t ruin the whole experience. I’ve given you my hard-earned survival tips—from wearing sane shoes to not sleeping in a sauna-tent, from shuttles over Ubers to budgeting for those $22 tacos—all so you can learn from my mistakes and focus on the fun.

Remember, it’s okay to take it easy and not do it all. Some of the best festival memories come from those unplanned, chill moments when you’re not rushing or stressing. Drink water, wear sunscreen, laugh off the little mishaps (because there will be some), and look out for your crew. If you follow this advice, you’ll make it through Coachella with epic stories and both shoes still on your feet. Heck, you might even achieve that Instagram-worthy shot and enjoy the music because you won’t be dying of discomfort.

So go forth, you festival warrior! May your Coachella be filled with great music, decent sleep, tolerable hangovers, and zero lost phones. And if you see a frazzled person hobbling by with blistered feet, or hear someone wailing about a $20 salad, or spot a zombie-like human covered in dust at 7am—give them a nod of solidarity. We’ve all been there. But that won’t be you, because you came prepared. Rock on, stay safe, and slay that desert experience with your new-found hot mess survivor wisdom. See you in the (sweaty) pit—I’ll be the one in comfy sneakers, grinning ear to ear.