It is the playground of the rich, the famous and the terminally online. 

Every April without fail, a very particular type of person descends on the California desert armed with a ring light, a brand deal and the unshakeable conviction that they are, in some profound and meaningful way, living their best life.

On behalf of the rest of us, of course.

Leading the charge for Ireland this year was Hold My Drink podcast host Charleen Murphy, who arrived at a California petrol station in high-school hottie dungarees, a baseball cap worn backwards and a Chick-fil-A cup in hand – how very Yankee-doodle- dandy altogether.

Dublin born-and-bred, Charleen was doing her best Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie circa 2003 impression, alongside travel companion and Love Island star Lucinda Strafford. The Simple Life, reimagined for the TikTok generation.

Lucinda Strafford and Charleen Murphy in the Californian enclave of Coachella

A Louis Vuitton bag dangling from one wrist, a Very Important Person plastic wristband on the other, an all-American pink cap worn the wrong way around, the pair pouted for the camera with the practised ease of two people who have never once accidentally blinked in a photograph.

There is nothing simple, however, about Coachella. 

Not for the great unwashed anyway, who slum it in the dust and the heat while influencers like Charleen are treated like royalty, whisked from sponsored villa to exclusive party without so much as a hold my branded cup.

Charleen’s day one outfit, a multicoloured masterpiece from The Dolls House

Charleen, from Terenure and the undisputed queen of Irish lifestyle content, gave her followers their money’s worth on the fashion front.

Day one saw her go full Abba mode in the Mimi Dress from The Dolls House, a multicoloured fringe masterpiece in pink, turquoise and black that caught the desert wind perfectly, paired with pink knee-high cowboy boots. She had even dyed her hair extensions pink to match.

The post racked up 66,000 likes before most of her followers had finished their morning coffee. The caption read: ‘Day 1 in the desert.’ Understated, as ever.

By day two, dubbed ‘Bieberchella’ after Justin Bieber’s headline set, she had pivoted to a creamy yellow triangle bikini top and matching silk sarong wrap, accessorised with a vintage-inspired yellow headpiece and a statement yellow Chanel purse that reportedly cost more than most people’s return flights to Los Angeles.

Charleen’s yellow outfit for ‘Bieberchella’

She and Lucinda had co-ordinated their outfits specifically around the Bieber set. 

Because in 2026 you do not simply attend a headline performance, you theme dress for it and document every moment of it in real time for the people at home who could not get a ticket and are now, understandably, questioning their life choices.

For the invite-only Revolve Festival – held on a private estate in the nearby town of Thermal and functioning essentially as Coachella for people who find Coachella a little too accessible – Charleen went full futuristic in a custom Schiaparelli metallic mesh gown covered in silvery orbs, finished with bug-eyed House of Malachi sunglasses and a chrome chin cuff. 

It is quite the commitment to a theme. It is also, it should be noted, quite the distance from the petrol station in dungarees where this particular adventure began.

Although it seems that not even VIP influencers are immune from security refusal. 

Speaking in a TikTok video after the trip, Charleen explained that she was stopped from entering the artists- only area.

‘There’s general access, VIP, we have VIP, and then there’s artists’ passes, which is one up from that again,’ she explained. 

‘[Some friends] were like, “Just come in with us and slide through the gate and sneak in.”

Lucinda went first with one of the girls and she got in no problem. I was like, “Okay fine, I’ll slide in as well.” Obviously, I get booted out.’

She said the situation escalated quickly when security intervened.

‘The [security] man reefed me out and was like, “Get out!” He said something really cheeky to me, I can’t remember what it was, but it was just uncalled for. I know I was sneaking in, but it was just mean, whatever he said.’

Dubliner Megan Forte Clarke, a former Love Island UK contestant, on her way to Coachella

Joining Charleen and Lucinda in the California sun was Love Island UK’s Megan Forte Clarke, a former musical theatre performer from Dublin who has made headlines for selling her villa outfits on Vinted to promote circular fashion. 

At Coachella, the circular fashion ethos was briefly set aside in favour of a grey studded triangle bikini top and a faux fur trimmed mini skirt, chunky silver jewellery stacked on both wrists, her dark hair worn loose and long.

She also appeared in a floaty baby pink mini dress cinched at the waist with a gold heart chain belt and finished with knee-high tan cowboy boots, arms flung wide on a sun-drenched Palm Springs street with the mountains behind her. 

It is the kind of shot that looks completely spontaneous and almost certainly took 45 minutes to get right.

Her partner Conor Phillips, a Limerick native and former Irish 7s rugby player turned lifestyle creator, took a rather more minimal approach to festival dressing. 

He was photographed shirtless in wide-leg white trousers with a Calvin Klein waistband on deliberate display, an NY cap, pearl necklace and a crossbody bag.

It was clean and effortless in a way that suggested considerably more thought than it appeared to involve.

He also appeared in a white mesh vest with grey cargo trousers, narrow black sunglasses and a trucker cap. Conor’s post racked up an impressive 52,400 likes.

The people, it seems, appreciate a man who knows how to wear white trousers in a desert without getting even a speck of sand on his carefully-curated garb.

Dublin model and creator Mimii Tafara leaned into the earth tone trend

Also flying the flag was Dublin model and creator Mimii Tafara, widely regarded as the current It girl of the Irish digital scene.

A high fashion editorial creator known for making a budget outfit look like a designer piece, Mimii leaned into the earth tone trend this weekend in a chocolate brown micro bikini top and a low- rise wrap skirt with subtle silver studding along the hem, a massive green stone pendant resting against her waist-length mermaid waves.

Her wrists were stacked with colourful beaded bracelets and her make-up, a deep berry lip against flawless skin, looked as though it had been applied in a professional studio rather than in the back of a sponsored SUV in 35-degree heat. 

It probably was. Mimii has a habit of making everything look completely effortless, which is either very impressive or very annoying depending on your disposition. Possibly both.

Rounding out the Irish contingent was dancer and content creator Adam Fogarty, who has performed with Rita Ora and appeared in the Barbie movie, and who took a refreshingly understated approach to the whole affair. 

He appeared poolside on day one in a simple white T-shirt, a delicate silver chain, beige trousers and narrow black sunglasses, looking considerably more relaxed than someone who had just paid €600 for a general admission ticket probably has any right to look.

All of which looked, from the outside, absolutely fabulous. Because it is supposed to.

Here is what the grid does not show you. That effortless ‘I just threw this on in the desert’ moment? Planned via spreadsheet in February.

The spontaneous sunrise shot with the mountains in the background and the light hitting just so? Scheduled. 

The luxury villa in La Quinta or Palm Springs with the private pool, the stocked fridge and the brand name prominently but casually visible in at least three pieces of content? Sponsored. 

The glam squad on site for hair and make-up at 6am before anyone has seen a stage? Part of the package.

The whole operation, every golden-hour portrait and every carefully-worded caption, has been in production since roughly Valentine’s Day.

Some creators do not even arrive with a ticket, posting frantically in the hope that a brand will ride to the rescue in exchange for coverage. 

One flew to Los Angeles this year on a one-way ticket with a full content schedule mapped out and no confirmed way through the gates. She got in eventually.

It always works out. That is the business.

Dutch influencer Joann van den Herik, who attended last year, was refreshingly blunt about the whole operation.

‘Trust me,’ she said, ‘it is not as fun as influencers make it look online. It is more like the Influencer Olympics, where everyone is fighting to get the best picture and besides that they are just on their phones.’

From the Irish contingent’s Instagram grids this week, you would be hard pressed to know there was a stage within 50km. Which does rather raise the question: Is this still a music festival?

Plenty of the great unwashed are asking exactly that. One TikTok creator put it plainly.

‘I do not care about the fancy Airbnbs and the fancy room drops. It is way more interesting to see how people are transforming their car camping spaces.’

It’s a strong point, largely ignored by anyone with a ring light and a brand deal to honour.

Then there are the prices, which have been causing their own particular form of outrage across social media this week.

General admission tickets started at €600 for weekend one. VIP passes topped €1,100. Resale tickets on secondary sites were regularly topping €1,850.

Factor in flights, transfers, accommodation and the now notorious on-site catering and a full Coachella experience can run to well over €2,500 per person, and that is before you have purchased a single lukewarm beverage or made a single regrettable food decision.

Speaking of which, a small pizza and a soft drink will set you back €38. Not a wood-fired artisan creation flown in from Naples. Not a truffle-infused hand-stretched masterpiece. Four slices of ordinary pepperoni in a cardboard box, paired with a soft drink.

One festival-goer was warned by a stranger in the queue that the pizza was raw before she handed over her money. She bought it anyway and rated it 7.95 out of 10, then revised her score downward to 7.5 upon discovering the edges were chewy. For €38 those edges had better be made of gold leaf.

It does not improve from there. Three coffees at the campsite came to €46. One attendee spent €94 on tacos and nachos she rated a generous five out of ten, noting that the tortillas were cold. A lemonade, described by its purchaser as mostly ice, came to €16.

For those without a sponsored villa to retreat to, the experience was further enlivened by what can only be described as a logistical ordeal. 

Thousands of campers reported sitting in gridlocked traffic for up to 12 hours in blistering heat, without access to water or basic facilities. 

The shuttle buses, packed to capacity and stationary for hours, became their own viral moment, with hundreds of overheated passengers watching the golden hour they had planned their outfits around fade slowly to darkness without them ever getting near a stage.

The on-site tents, advertised as a premium option, proved equally dispiriting. One camper reported that the interior of his tent reached temperatures at which toiletries began to melt, lids and all.

So the pizza was raw, the tacos were cold and the tent was an oven. But at least, somewhere across the desert, the influencers were, as they say in social media parlance, living their very best lives.

While the hoi polloi queued and sweated and questioned every financial decision that had led them to this particular dusty field, a very different festival was taking place a short drive away. 

Kylie Jenner was reportedly ensconced in a private compound at €46,000 a night, complete with private chef, full security detail and a glam room bigger than most Dublin apartments. 

She did not queue for pizza. She certainly did not pay €38 for it.

Two festivals, one desert. The influencers somewhere in between, their Schiaparelli gowns and yellow Chanel purses and 66,000 likes carefully positioned between the two worlds, belonging fully to neither.

One commenter this week captured the general mood rather well. ‘Coachella seems like a miserable money trap that everyone falls for.’

Well, quite.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​