After more than a decade of summer festivals, I can say this with total confidence: I party completely differently now than I did at twenty. And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.
Back then, I'd happily spend five days in a budget tent the size of a wardrobe, surviving on three hours of sleep, warm beer, and crisps — somehow still dragging myself to the techno stage by two in the afternoon. These days, I care a lot less about looking like a hardcore festival-goer. The freedom and energy that festivals offer? I still want all of that. I've just learned that comfort is what makes it actually enjoyable rather than something to endure.
Over the years, I've paid my tuition in sunstroke, chafed thighs, wrong shoes, a ridiculously overpacked bag, and one very panicked midnight moment when my phone died and I genuinely couldn't find my tent. Out of all that came a personal survival list that I swear by — and I'm sharing it here so you don't have to learn it all the hard way.
Wear the most comfortable outfit, not the coolest one
This is something you can only really learn with time. At a festival, you'll easily clock 10 to 15 kilometres a day between walking, dancing, and wandering. If something pinches, rubs, slips, or traps heat, you'll be miserable within a few hours.
My non-negotiable rules: only broken-in, comfortable shoes — no exceptions. Mostly natural fabrics. Always a thin long-sleeved layer for the evening chill. And instead of one showstopping outfit, I pack several light, mix-and-match sets. A colourful scarf, a mesh top, or a little body glitter can make even the most practical outfit look festival-ready.
And yes — anti-chafe shorts or chafe cream are genuinely life-saving at summer festivals. Most people underestimate this until they've walked 30,000 steps in 40-degree heat. Don't be that person.
Good sleep isn't a luxury — it's the whole game
At 25, I thought sleep was optional. Now I know that roughly 70% of how much you enjoy a festival comes down to how well you've rested.
My essentials: earplugs, a sleep mask, a proper sleeping mat, a small battery-powered fan, and an extra blanket for the early hours when it gets cold.
For multi-day festivals, I now happily pay extra for a shaded camping spot or a quieter zone. The difference is extraordinary. Waking up at 8am in a tent that hasn't turned into a sauna — and actually feeling rested — changes everything about the day ahead.
Water matters more than you think
Everyone has heard this advice. Almost everyone ignores it anyway. Heat, alcohol, poor sleep, and constant movement are a brutal combination when it comes to dehydration.
That's why I always bring a large refillable water bottle and electrolyte powder or effervescent tablets to make sure I stay properly hydrated throughout the day.
Festival food can be genuinely delicious, but after a few days your body will thank you for eating something other than chips and energy drinks. I always pack energy bars, nuts, and seeds as backup. Apples hold up surprisingly well in a tent for a few days too — just hang them up so the ants don't get there first.
Scout the festival layout before you arrive
This is something twenty-year-old me never bothered with. Now I always do. Before I leave home, I check where the showers are, how far the campsite is from the stages, what the weather forecast looks like, and what you can and can't bring in.
Reddit threads, Facebook groups, and TikTok videos are goldmines for this. You'll often learn more from past festival-goers than from the official website — especially the things they don't tell you upfront.
Build yourself an emergency kit
Mine always contains: plasters, painkillers, wet wipes, hand sanitiser, a mini sunscreen, tissues, and deodorant.
None of these are glamorous. But the moment you need any one of them and don't have it, they become the most important things in the world.
You don't have to do everything
This might be the biggest shift between me now and me at twenty. Back then, I felt like I had to be at every single act or I was missing out. Now I know that a festival is not a performance review.
Sometimes the best moment isn't standing in front of a stage at 5am. It's sitting in the shade with a friend in the afternoon, eating something good, and just feeling genuinely happy to be there.
And really, that's the whole point. Not to prove how much we can handle — but to feel a little freer for a few days. That's exactly why I'm going again this summer. And I wouldn't rule out still doing this at 40, either.
