Written by Fiona Sha, Senior Strategist, New York, at Momentum
(I was not able to get tickets to Coachella this year, so just go with me for a second while I spiral into a slightly delusional, very vivid fantasy where I am there frolicking through all the experiential activations.)
I can’t believe Coachella weekend is already here. I’ve been thinking about outfits, stalking the lineup, and sending “wait are we going to this?” texts for months, and now I’m actually on my way to the desert. And honestly, it’s not just about the music anymore. Coachella is a whole lifestyle at this point. It’s the beauty prep, the random food I’ll convince myself is worth $30, the sunsets that somehow feel fake, and the content that’s about to take over my camera roll. It’s like a full sensory overload in the best way, and that’s just how we festival-goers experience things now: we don’t separate music from fashion or beauty or whatever else. Coachella gets that. It’s not selling me a concert, it’s selling me the feeling of being part of something big. And the brands here? They get it. No one’s yelling at me to buy anything. Instead, they’re building these little worlds I can side quest into when I desperately need some AC or freebies, places that feel like they belong in and add to my festival experience, not interrupt it. That’s the bar now: if it doesn’t blend into my day, I’m walking right past it.
The brands are already taking care of me before I even get inside. Just minutes from the festival ground, I pull over at the Maruchan pop-up at the Cabazon outlets and… why is this kind of perfect? It’s not trying too hard. it’s just there, handing me hot ramen after a long drive like it knew I needed it. The whole thing feels weirdly comforting, familiar but also surreal in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly I’m taking photos, grabbing merch, and texting my friends to pull over too.
Image Credit: SUGARED + BRONZED
Same energy when I pass the SUGARED + BRONZED tiny home and impulsively decide I need a spray tan before the weekend officially starts. It’s giving pre-game glow-up, and it fits so seamlessly into the flow of getting ready that it doesn’t feel like a brand activation. That’s the magic of it: the smartest brands aren’t waiting for me inside the gates, they’re meeting me in motion. They’re designing for the journey, not just the destination; for the in-between moments that most people overlook but everyone experiences.
I’m also starting to hear whispers about the real stuff happening before the festival, the offsite parties, the ones you’re not technically supposed to get into but somehow everyone knows someone. Suddenly I’m plotting how to finesse my way into these mini festivals that feel like their own universe. I end up at this Medicube pool party situation and it’s not chaotic like the grounds, it’s controlled, aesthetic, almost calm? Everyone’s glowing (literally), skincare is being passed around like drinks, and it’s all being documented in real time. It’s less about partying and more about being seen being there, which is kind of the point. 818 Outpost is a whole different level. It’s not even one brand, it’s like a stack of them all living in the same universe. Cash App, Kylie Cosmetics, Rhode, Youth to the People, Postmates, Snapchat, and more all layered into one experience that feels less like sponsorship and more like a cultural hub.
Image Credit: Sonic Desert
Then there’s Sonic Desert, where Coca-Cola turns a private ranch into this carnival-core fever dream with cherry float drinks, games, and a charm bar collab. At this point it’s clear the festival isn’t the only main stage anymore. These offsite ecosystems are where brands actually get to own the narrative, because they’re not just participating in the culture, they’re producing it.
Alright it is 6PM on Day 2, and I’ve hit a wall. It’s hot, I’ve walked like 20,000 steps, completely lost my voice from screaming at Labrinth, and suddenly my only goal is survival. That’s when I start actively seeking out places to just exist for a second. I stumble into the Red Bull Mirage and it’s exactly what I need: shade, mist, somewhere to sit, bougie food from Nobu, but still connected to the music so I don’t feel like I’m missing out.
Image Credit: MGA Miniverse
Then I find the MGA Miniverse setup and it’s weirdly calming, like a tiny version of the chaos I just came from, but mini and collectible and kind of adorable. I’m picking up little keepsakes like vinyl keychains and a pocket-sized line-up poster without even thinking about it, because it feels like capturing a piece of the experience. And then there’s the Heineken House, which is basically the opposite of resting, it’s like, “what if your break was another party?” and somehow I’m back dancing again. Or I end up at the Aperol Day Club, which hits that perfect middle ground. I can chill, get a tooth gem (why not), sip something frozen, and still feel like I’m part of something. It starts to feel like “rest” here doesn’t mean leaving the experience; it means choosing a different version of it. And the brands that win are the ones that understand that recharging is part of the journey, not a pause from it.
At some point, I decide I need to freshen up, not just survive, but re-enter before Justin Bieber’s on. And this is where things get fun. I hit the Magnum activation and suddenly I’m customizing an ice cream bar with edible spray paint to match my outfit, which sounds insane but looks incredible and tastes even better. It turns dessert into an accessory, and I’m immediately posting it because it feels like mine. Then I wander into Wavytalk’s styling space and it’s giving main character energy: professional stylists, people experimenting, everyone hyping each other up. It’s not about fixing your hair, it’s about transforming your whole vibe before heading back out. Medicube’s booth pulls me in next, but instead of just handing me samples, they’re letting me actually try their Age-R Booster Pro device and feel how the moisture is getting absorbed into my skin, it’s interactive in a way that makes me trust it more.
Image Credit: Gap Inc
And then of course, I end up at the Gap Hoodie House, customizing a hoodie with patches and charms that becomes my emotional support item for the rest of the weekend. There’s something different about these moments: they aren’t just photo ops, but proof that I was here, on my own terms. I’m not just consuming products, I’m co-creating them. And from a brand perspective, that’s the goldmine: when the product becomes part of my identity in real time, not something I consider buying later.
By the time I’m heading home, I’m exhausted in that specific Coachella way: overstimulated, sunburnt, and my phone storage is fighting for its life. But it’s wild how clearly certain brands stuck with me: the ones that didn’t feel like ads but felt like they understood exactly where I was in my day and met me there, whether I needed food, a glow-up, a break, or just something fun to do. And now, back in the real world, I already know which of these I’d actually reach for again, not because I was told to, but because they were part of my experience. Anyway, I’m going to knock out for like two weeks and pretend I don’t exist, but don’t be surprised if I suddenly become loyal to a random ramen brand or start wearing this hoodie nonstop. That’s Coachella now, it doesn’t end when you leave, it just follows you home.