The Joy of Coachella in Your (Late) 30s

I woke up the first Saturday of Coachella weekend with aching back pain. The night before, I had danced ad nauseam to everyone from Lykke Li to Sabrina Carpenter, walked eight miles, and inhaled copious amounts of desert dust. After staring at the ceiling for 15 minutes, I peeled myself out of bed and rummaged through my bag for Advil. That's Coachella in your 30s. The last time I was here, nearly a decade ago, I was 28 and brimming with collagen and the sprightly energy of someone who can down multiple rounds of Aperol Spritzes without begging for mercy the next morning. I wasn't sure how my perspective would shift coming back all these years later, especially considering there are many moments in my life today where I relate more with Parker Posey in "The White Lotus" when she says, "I just don't think, at this age, I'm meant to live an uncomfortable life," than I do any influencer on social media. As I quickly found out, festival season is not one of those moments. In fact, I vehemently reject the notion that you "age out" of music festivals and can confidently say Coachella is a better experience when you're older. Here's why. 1. You're old enough to rent a car Let's start with the basics: getting around. In my 20s, this is something I spent 2% of my brain power thinking about, and as a result remained at the mercy of Uber, shuttles, and group carpools. Any time I wanted to go anywhere in Palm Springs, or leave the festival, or leave the festival and then come back to the festival, I had to rely on other people's timelines. Ultimately, this cost me countless hours of waiting and, yes, money. This time around, my wife and I rented the electric Rivian R1S SUV, which was big enough to haul our suitcases for the road trip to and from Los Angeles but also pack in up to seven friends if we wanted to. It also meant we could go wherever we wanted: on coffee runs, for a late-night bite, on a scenic drive down Palm Desert. Access to a car turned the trip into more than just the festival, and was the low-key advantage that dramatically improved our entire weekend. 2. You don't care about being "seen" In your 20s, there can be this pressure to dress to impress, hit every "cool" party, spot all the celebrities, and take the perfect photo in front of the Ferris Wheel. That's all fun and fair, but once you've lived enough festival life, you know that looking cute and being seen won't help you survive Coachella — a comfy pair of shoes will. By your 30s you'll bask in the luxury that is leaving a set early, skipping a line, or sitting down during a headliner without feeling like you're missing some big social milestone. 3. You're less likely to pack your schedule At this stage in my life, I've learned that energy is a commodity; I protect mine with fervor. That's why my wife and I took our sweet time in the mornings and afternoons before making our way to the festival. We were staying about 15 minutes away at private airstream campsite powered by AutoCamp and Rivian, where there were cold plunges, communal fire pits, and a secret headliner experience each day. We imbibed in countless coffees from the Anomaly pop-up, did morning yoga and meditation, ate our meals at leisure, and otherwise moved at a glacial pace, as if there was no agenda on our minds. That was one of my favorite parts of the entire weekend. Instead of rushing to get ready and map out our day — as if we were checking off a list — we got to sit back and enjoy being in the desert. The result is that I was actually less tired at the end of each day, if you can believe. (I wasn't the only person to enjoy a little R&R, our senior style director turned her Coachella trip into a full-blown "glowcation," which, goals.) I applied this same mentality to the festival, enjoying the moment instead of rushing to get somewhere. To me, the beauty of something like Coachella is the spontaneity of it all — you never know what you'll find when you give yourself the space to wander into a tent, stumble across a new artist you've never heard of, or just vibe without a plan. (For me, that meant getting a private concert from Tinashe, where she DJ'd to 20 people at Camp Rivian before actually hitting the festival stage.) 4. You appreciate more than just the music Coachella is about music, of course, but it's also an art festival. In my 20s I might have considered the art installations nothing but a backdrop for photos, a few fleeting objects to lay my eyes on while sprinting between stages. This go-around, I was able to slow down and actually enjoy them. It didn't hurt that, per LA Times, the hippos were back at "Network Operations" this year as chaotic media tycoons, giving my wife and I ample time to discuss its deeper meaning. I guess being in your 30s means finding joy in those reflective spaces, while, yes, giving your feet a break between sets. Even with the artists on stage, I found myself marveling at more than the performance, but also the sound design and visuals. There's just something to being less tunnel-visioned on the lineup and more receptive to everything else the festival offers. 5. You prioritize little luxuries In your late 30s, comfort upgrades are king. Whether that's better accommodations, better tickets, better transport, better food, or a combination of all the above — giving yourself permission to be comfortable makes the weekend all the more worth it. For me, that meant splurging on Le Burger's caviar and chicken nuggets and skipping a very big headliner to stand in a shorter line for tacos at Birreria Michi. When you're old enough to know food is just as much a spiritual experience as snagging a spot to see Justin Bieber, you prioritize those experiences. If you want a free dopamine rush, you can always check your steps at the end of each day. Then get the Advil ready for tomorrow. 49438625 Kelsey Castañon (she/her) is an ASME Award-nominated writer and editor with enough years of experience to warrant a retinol prescription. She is currently the editor-in-chief at PS, where she manages content across platforms while simultaneously stockpiling (and reporting on) everything from skin care to wine.