All You Need is BASS

Outlook Festival 2014: We Came, We Conquered

Walking from our apartment to catch a taxi was single-handedly my most mortifying experience of the summer. I’m used to wandering around Reno, Nevada or Nelson, B.C. close to festival times, where many have come before me to grind down the general hang-ups of society, crafting a very friendly environment for the rest of us who choose to reside in the world of strange. In Pula, people acted like they had never seen such horror. Walking from our apartment to try to catch a taxi down by the Roman Amphitheatre we were berated with disgust from families, showered with honks and hopeful smiles from cars of young men and what I can only assume were swear words by one Croatian old man at a cross walk. It was absolutely rattling and I couldn’t get to that festival fast enough, where MY people would be in abundance.

984201_10154669648425022_1803187592471785656_nUpon arrival I realized the rumours were true. There were no people in costume. Costume culture did not exist at Outlook Festival. Despite my horrific journey from apartment to festival and my apprehension at the abundance of mom shorts, upon hearing some sick ass reggae beats from the beach stage, my first mate and I couldn’t help but go shake it on the beach. The tables started to turn. As we walked to the beach people were smiling and loving our little game of dress up. We were bombarded by men with giant cameras taking our picture. These pictures would subsequently turn up in the local newspaper in a feature story about the festival.

Our sailor outfits provided some invisible force of attraction to us. All kinds of people were talking to us. On our journey from the Beach Stage to the Harbour where the boat party pick-up was located we met tons of people – a group of fellow sailors, some lively young ladies from England, and another media group from Dubai that knew Shambhala Music Festival and more specifically the Fractal Forest stage. I had pre-arranged an interview with Mungo’s Hi Fi, the purveyors of this fine boat party, and milling around waiting to embark I identified the group that most certainly had to be them. Back to the embarrassing side of the costumes I had to go introduce myself to the group and explain I had been e-mailing with them about an interview. They seemed dubious of my media credentials regarding my coquettish garb … perhaps not the most professional choice for an introduction. Doug, the member I’d been e-mailing with was busy back at their stage gearing up for the night’s festivities, so I was basically back at square one until I found him.

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