Artwork courtesy of Megan Broussard Maughan, designed by Blake Lagneaux.
It’s the start of festival season, cue Coachella, and my Instagram feed is slowly being taken over by a particular sort of fashion: fringe vests, knit bralettes, micro shorts and bandanas, turquoise jewelry and cowboy hats. The mood is hot, even if in some places the weather hasn’t quite caught up yet. The air is rascally, like the itch you get at the end of semester when you can’t wait to take that last test and go feral.
For my friends who grew up in places like California, Colorado, or Pennsylvania, festivals are when you get to put on “festival wear,” a uniform of temporary rebellion, a costume of whimsy, an outfit that signals, “I am a body-glittered, iridescent outlaw.”
Shops like ASOS, Urban Outfitters, Revolve, and Free People all have sections and collections devoted to the look. And it’s always felt familiar to me, which makes no sense at all because, confession: I’ve never actually been to a music festival. Shhhh, I know, I know, it’s SUPER embarrassing. Have I been to a ton of concerts? Yes, of course. Have I slept in a tent next to three to 300 complete strangers? No. But I’m not opposed! (I am wondering if I’m now too old, but that’s another essay…)
Still, this festival-girl aesthetic feels familiar to me, the way a song feels like you’ve known it your whole life on the first listen. It feels like my part of Louisiana.
The stereotype for the Southern girl aesthetic is all seersucker, scalloped hems, and poofy sleeves, which … I love. But that’s not my Louisiana.
Let me put it this way: if I could create a South Louisiana Barbie, she would have tousled, sea-spray waves, a wide-brimmed hat, a flowy maxi, and boots in case the ground is still wet from last night’s thunderstorm. Is she headed to Hangout Music Festival or just grabbing a Rêve coffee in downtown Lafayette?
I’m not saying it’s a Southern thing. In fact, the stereotype for the Southern girl aesthetic is all seersucker, scalloped hems, and poofy sleeves, which … I love. But that’s not my Louisiana.
In New York, I often have a hard time describing what kind of “Southern girl” I am. I get the Southern Belle, Bama-Rush references, but I have to say, that isn’t quite it. That isn’t quite the whole story when it comes to our “vibe.”
The "South Louisiana girlie" aesthetic is hard to put into words, but these are the words that come to mind: empire waists, open-back sundresses, flushed cheeks, glossy lips, shoulder freckles, smudged eyeliner, messy buns, linen wraps, paisley handkerchiefs, faded boots, bangles, straw cowboy hats, terracotta nail polish, frayed denim, sheer kimonos, mini backpacks…
You see these girlies at all hours of the day, seven days a week, dressed for wherever the day might take them well into the night: a 9 am stroll around Cypress Lake, a midday shopping spree on Bridge Street, a late brunch at The Little Big Cup, and a night out dancing at Blue Moon Saloon.
It’s all so … festival coded.
Maybe that’s not such a coincidence. Maybe Louisiana’s aesthetic feels festival-adjacent because, in a lot of ways, we always live like it’s festival season.
In South Louisiana, celebration isn’t something you wait for once a year; it’s woven into the everyday. There’s always a reason to gather: a crawfish boil, a zydeco show, a backyard birthday that turns into dancing in the grass. Here, indulgence isn’t reserved for special occasions.
We dress for the possibility that something might happen: a sudden storm, a second round of drinks, a line dance. Maybe that’s the throughline; the same spirit that sends people across the country to festivals for a weekend—the glitter, the looseness, the sense that life should be a little bit lush—is the one we grow up with in South Louisiana.
So what should we call ourselves if “Southern belle” isn’t quite right, doesn’t quite cover it?
If the “steel magnolia” is too constrained and impractical for our relaxed and spontaneous marshy shoreline?
I vote for “bayou rose.”
Read more entries of Megan Broussard Maughan's column, “In Search of the Lost Tongue” at countryroadsmag.com.
