There is something gratifying about pool parties and daytime drinking, where the sun acts as the great equalizer and melts every body down to its most simple form.
Human flaws become real, and even the most beautiful girl can look washed out and stripped down. And so it was on Sunday afternoon at Chevy's Volt Valley at the Mirage and the Guess Hotel pool parties, where groups of Coachella refugees bonded over Patron Popsicles and garish displays of fun.
At Chevy's Volt Valley at the Mirage, which took place at a private estate on the outskirts of the festival, guests were partaking in the pleasures of a zip line over a small, muddy lake. Strapped into neon harnesses, tanned bodies flew off the edge of a steep staircase, shouting and thrusting skyward, like sun worshipers with wings of wax.
Even the bartenders seemed high on the romantic idea of a sun-soaked life. One wore white-rimmed glasses with no lenses, which seemed to say all that was worth saying about the reality of the situation.
At the same time, in Palm Springs, the Guess Hotel at the Viceroy sheltered party pilgrims in shaded cabanas and endless amounts of vodka. Ping-pong, couture sunglasses and DJs removed reality from life and for small, but profound moments the faithful felt contained.