If you’ve ever read any of my reports from multi-day festivals, such as August’s Lollapalooza, you know I hate hot weather. Like, really, really hate.
Well, luckily for us down here in Austin at South by Southwest, Friday brought record high temperatures in the low to mid-90s to the city and, well, frankly the only smell worse than Sixth Street at midnight halfway through the festival (think stale beer, sweat, a bit of upchuck and unwashed hipsters) is the hellish stench of thousands of dudes in skinny jeans, embroidered thrift store cowboy shirts and matted hair crushed into a venue with no air conditioning at 3 p.m. You’ll want to plead for a slow death, preferably one in which your olfactory senses are somehow disconnected.
So, while trying to walk from one shady sliver to another, I took some photos for an essay I like to call Cool/ Not Cool. I tried to find people who were appropriately dressed for the heat (thanks, Perry Farrell, for setting a good example in your black mesh sleeveless T-shirt; you too, guy in the white pants and panama hat).
And I also shot some pics of those who were probably two layers away from heat stroke (that’s you, cowboy in corduroy pants with the leather jacket slung over your shoulder and, especially you, Peter, Bjorn & John’s Peter Moren, with your suit). Just remember, it’s cool to stay cool.