Feeling Footloose

What I find pleasurable about my life in London, and the variety of friends which I surround myself with, is that over the course of a weekend I can transition from Polo to Patti. Whilst comfortable in both of course, the latter is where I truly feel at home, stomping around braless in my Doc Martens.  

Field Day returned this year, kicking off my festival season in the sunny pocket of East London that is Victoria Park. With stages hosted by Crack Magazine, Bugged Out and i-D, Field Day is gradually establishing itself as a key event in the English Festival Calendar. 

Jacky B and I headed East after lunch and after getting off the tube at Bethnal green, stomped over to the park. Sneaking in through the trades entrance on the pretence that we were working for the catering, we grabbed a Red Stripe, stuck our heads in the Schuh photobooth and got fully involved in a game of tug-o-war.

Now don't get me wrong... this is no Glastonbury. What is it however, is good sounds, cold beer, open spaces and happy people. All good in my book. Oh and I discovered sweet potato chips... god damn they're good. 

My highlight of this sunny Sunday was Patti Smith. I read her memoirs of her life with Robert Maplethorpe in 'Just Kids' a couple of years ago when my friend Imogen lent me the book. I found her deeply touching ias she weaves together what it is to create art and to love with no ounce of pretence. The cult legend did not disapoint. Playing the entire Horses album and a few covers, she owned the stage in her dry dulcet tones. 

“Im not wearing these shades to look cool. It’s just, you know... the sun. ”

— Patti Smith

I was well informed that Ride caused a stir with their reunion and that FKA twigs was apparently captivating to watch (or as someone I met told me... she looked like she was orgasming on stage), but the punk poet legend was in my opinion the event of Field Day weekend. At the beginning of 'Birdman' she missed a her cue and shrugged it off with “I don’t do nothing perfect,” pausing before adding: “I only fuckk up perfect.”

My chums the Knights smashing out an early afternoon set in the Jegermaister tent.

MusicKate WoodsComment