of the United Kingdom’s capitol city.
It’s another 90-degree day in the Colorado Desert. The humidity is low, but the sheer strength of the sun is enough to challenge the vigor you feel for being here: Coachella. By the time 11 a.m. hits, you need sustenance. You’ve tried to hold off by grabbing some free Takis and ginger shots, but you have no choice but to partake in one of the many bougie food options. Your hand starts to itch as you wander around and peek at the options. Caviar tots for $45? A simple bahn mi for $24? Maybe you can go back to the Takis activation…
Coachella and the growing list of music festivals worldwide were initially designed to be cultural communes. Dedicated spaces where people from all walks of life could unite and bond over their shared love of music. But over time, festivals have become more about “the vibes” than the music itself.
Nearly 60% of millennials and Gen Z consumers have said they would rather spend their money on experiences like travel and concerts than save for retirement. And so, brands have done what they do best: monetize.
Over the last five years in particular, the monetization of festivals has spurred the creation of full-blown Commerce-enabled villages. Retailers, CPG brands, and tech players have converged to create one ultra-luxe destination with some very high-end background music.
This premiumization has made music festivals coveted hot spots for brands and their cohorts. The aim? To generate buzz and capitalize on a long-tail of conversation built around the event itself. But the growing pool of revenue tied up in these events has made the cost for participation much higher. Greater costs have led to a squeeze on the experiential economy that, as a result of economic volatility, may soon burst.
As prices surge and in-festival activations become more luxe and exclusive, we can’t help but wonder who the new festival experience is actually for, especially as consumer spend becomes more volatile. In many ways, Coachella is the latest and strongest example illustrating the widening cultural and economic divide in America, and brands and retailers are actively participating in driving this divide in the name of brand-building.
BNRL: Buy Now, Rock Later
The debate of whether festivals are “too expensive” is nothing new. But it has reached a fever pitch following a Billboard report indicating that more than half of Coachella general admission attendees bought their tickets through payment plans.
Rather than create a pipeline for buy now, pay later (BNPL) vendors like Klarna and Afterpay, Coachella is getting a bigger piece of the pie by offering its own branded payment plan. Fans could buy their $599 tickets (including fees) by putting $49.99 down, paying a flat $41 fee, and paying the balance over several months. Anyone who defaulted on their payments was able to use their funds at Coachella, and they would incur no additional interest.
Some argue that Coachella’s payment plan is the most fiscally responsible option, especially considering the hidden risks of BNPL services. But that isn’t exactly the point. Coachella has offered this service for years, but it is the sheer volume of people using the service that’s alarming. Moreover, doing Coachella “right” requires spending thousands of dollars on not just tickets, but food, drinks, immersive brand activations, and FOMO-inducing moments you can brag about on social media. Even less aspirational lodging options like glamping can set people back a staggering $12,000.
Granted, Coachella is not the first festival brand to put dollars over fan experience.
In today's terms, Woodstock ‘99 vendors and showrunners were roasted by attendees for charging $12 for water bottles, equivalent to $23.11. And who could forget the social media shame-off that came post-Frye Festival? Despite the public outcry, we have only continued to this incessant manipulation of “supply and demand” accelerate, with CMA Fest hiking up prices by 227% year over year and even hyper-niche music festivals like Sand in My Boost completely selling out, including the event’s top-tier pass, which costs a hefty $4,999 plus fees.
A farcical post by BREZ cofounder Nick Shackelford, using AI to insert their beverage into the premium packages
It would be easy to use these steep entry fees as the proverbial “velvet rope” that only lets in the most committed music fans. Yet once one enters the festival grounds, they are bombarded with an experience that has mutated to include more “elite” touchpoints that intend to not just validate the ridiculous ticket prices but add more expenses to the pot. And with 66% of Coachella attendees telling Variety that they went to the festival for the experience, not the music, producers have the confirmation they need to make the scope of environments, vendors, and activations even more extreme, ultimately driving the cost of participation for consumers even higher.
“This level of investment for a questionable level of return begs the question: what does money really get you in today’s influencer-driven, highly branded economy?” ––Melissa Minkow, Global Director of Retail Strategy at CI&T
Debt: It’s What’s for Dinner
Food and beverage are at the epicenter of festival premiumization and has in turn become a key source of internet outrage. One TikTok user went viral in 2024 for touting the $64 she spent on two burritos and a flavored water. This year, food creator @karissaeats shared everything she ate during one day at Coachella, including a $25 “sparkly pink Caesar salad” and a $17 smoothie. If you want a cocktail? It’ll cost ya about $23 for a Red Bull Vodka or $16 for a White Claw Hard Seltzer.
As one of @karissaeats’ followers mused:
"These prices hurt my wallet, and I'm not even there."
However, Coachella’s menu could be considered tame in comparison to some of the other “premium events” that have used exclusive culinary offerings and bottle service as their main draw. At Formula 1 Miami GP in 2023, $350 empanadas, $450 lobster rolls, and $245 ice cream were on the menu. (Not to mention the $42 Wagyu steak sandwich that looked more like an Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich.) And folks attending Miami’s Ultra Music Festival this past March had to shell out thousands of dollars, with a $1,500 bottle of Dom Perignon being one of the more conservative options.
Spending an exorbitant amount on elite-sounding fare is par for the course. If you truly want to garner a sense of belonging, you have to participate. But to what end does participating in the name of belonging become fiscally irresponsible, or even impossible?
How Brands Add to the ‘Cost of Experience’
Brands are capitalizing on attendees’ desire for experience by embedding themselves into the unique culture and community of each unique festival. Coachella in particular has become a top line item in brands’ marketing budget, largely due to its younger and celebrity-leaning clientele. While there is power in “being where the people are,” the way brands decide to show up simply reaffirms that even in cases of “community-centered activations,” not all are welcome.
Sure, some brands kept things simple, even scrappy, to democratize their products onsite. Good American’s bandanna vending machine gave concertgoers the perfect festival fashion accessory. A high-impact, low-lift effort that got their social circle buzzing. But for others, the creative, technological, and budgetary limits seemingly did not exist.
Aperol, American Express, Neutrogena, and Pinterest have gone all-in on creating on-site activations and lounges where visitors could cool off, relax, capture social content and test products. But with these spaces come capacity limits, which is why AMEX has limited its experience to card users, a tactic that not only creates an air of exclusivity but reaffirms the benefits of membership. Arguably, Pinterest was the only brand to truly double down on accessing, marketing that bringing everyday music fans in was key to the experience.
Brands like REVOLVE and 818 Tequila have taken things a step further to fully capitalize on Coachella’s experience-hungry clientele. These branded onsite outposts featuring exclusive music sets, giveaways, and other unique opportunities were designed with an exclusive “in crowd” of influencers and celebs in mind.
They also have become central watering holes for brand partnerships and collabs, with influencer AlixEarle using REVOLVE as a selling platform for her Sip Margs and Hailey Bieber’s Rhode Skin bringing its viral Photo Booth concept to the 818 Outpost. Sure, the vibes are high, especially for content creators eager to amplify on their social channels, but how much do these exclusionary experiences generate meaningful brand engagement and loyalty?
These brands took very distinct approaches with varying levels of accessibility, yet they all arguably tie to the same goal and outcome: to create an experience that activates brand buzz outside of the event and drives not just intrigue but extreme yearning inside the event to drive traffic and long-term engagement. But when the cost for participation becomes so high that only the rich, elite, and most influential can access, when do they start to become exclusionary and completely contradict the initial goal of the festivals they’re a part of? After all, the more brands alienate their total addressable market, the more significant the aftershocks will be in the form of damaged brand love, retention, and loyalty.
For now, consumers will happily slap down their credit cards and tap to pay for an experience that promises to be shareworthy across all socials. However, as economic volatility continues to influence consumer spend, it may only be so long until the cost of experience surpasses the value of participation. And should this trajectory continue, festivals like Coachella may soon become homogeneous playgrounds for the wealthy social media elite, undermining the cultural and communal mission they once championed.
It’s another 90-degree day in the Colorado Desert. The humidity is low, but the sheer strength of the sun is enough to challenge the vigor you feel for being here: Coachella. By the time 11 a.m. hits, you need sustenance. You’ve tried to hold off by grabbing some free Takis and ginger shots, but you have no choice but to partake in one of the many bougie food options. Your hand starts to itch as you wander around and peek at the options. Caviar tots for $45? A simple bahn mi for $24? Maybe you can go back to the Takis activation…
Coachella and the growing list of music festivals worldwide were initially designed to be cultural communes. Dedicated spaces where people from all walks of life could unite and bond over their shared love of music. But over time, festivals have become more about “the vibes” than the music itself.
Nearly 60% of millennials and Gen Z consumers have said they would rather spend their money on experiences like travel and concerts than save for retirement. And so, brands have done what they do best: monetize.
Over the last five years in particular, the monetization of festivals has spurred the creation of full-blown Commerce-enabled villages. Retailers, CPG brands, and tech players have converged to create one ultra-luxe destination with some very high-end background music.
This premiumization has made music festivals coveted hot spots for brands and their cohorts. The aim? To generate buzz and capitalize on a long-tail of conversation built around the event itself. But the growing pool of revenue tied up in these events has made the cost for participation much higher. Greater costs have led to a squeeze on the experiential economy that, as a result of economic volatility, may soon burst.
As prices surge and in-festival activations become more luxe and exclusive, we can’t help but wonder who the new festival experience is actually for, especially as consumer spend becomes more volatile. In many ways, Coachella is the latest and strongest example illustrating the widening cultural and economic divide in America, and brands and retailers are actively participating in driving this divide in the name of brand-building.
BNRL: Buy Now, Rock Later
The debate of whether festivals are “too expensive” is nothing new. But it has reached a fever pitch following a Billboard report indicating that more than half of Coachella general admission attendees bought their tickets through payment plans.
Rather than create a pipeline for buy now, pay later (BNPL) vendors like Klarna and Afterpay, Coachella is getting a bigger piece of the pie by offering its own branded payment plan. Fans could buy their $599 tickets (including fees) by putting $49.99 down, paying a flat $41 fee, and paying the balance over several months. Anyone who defaulted on their payments was able to use their funds at Coachella, and they would incur no additional interest.
Some argue that Coachella’s payment plan is the most fiscally responsible option, especially considering the hidden risks of BNPL services. But that isn’t exactly the point. Coachella has offered this service for years, but it is the sheer volume of people using the service that’s alarming. Moreover, doing Coachella “right” requires spending thousands of dollars on not just tickets, but food, drinks, immersive brand activations, and FOMO-inducing moments you can brag about on social media. Even less aspirational lodging options like glamping can set people back a staggering $12,000.
Granted, Coachella is not the first festival brand to put dollars over fan experience.
In today's terms, Woodstock ‘99 vendors and showrunners were roasted by attendees for charging $12 for water bottles, equivalent to $23.11. And who could forget the social media shame-off that came post-Frye Festival? Despite the public outcry, we have only continued to this incessant manipulation of “supply and demand” accelerate, with CMA Fest hiking up prices by 227% year over year and even hyper-niche music festivals like Sand in My Boost completely selling out, including the event’s top-tier pass, which costs a hefty $4,999 plus fees.
A farcical post by BREZ cofounder Nick Shackelford, using AI to insert their beverage into the premium packages
It would be easy to use these steep entry fees as the proverbial “velvet rope” that only lets in the most committed music fans. Yet once one enters the festival grounds, they are bombarded with an experience that has mutated to include more “elite” touchpoints that intend to not just validate the ridiculous ticket prices but add more expenses to the pot. And with 66% of Coachella attendees telling Variety that they went to the festival for the experience, not the music, producers have the confirmation they need to make the scope of environments, vendors, and activations even more extreme, ultimately driving the cost of participation for consumers even higher.
“This level of investment for a questionable level of return begs the question: what does money really get you in today’s influencer-driven, highly branded economy?” ––Melissa Minkow, Global Director of Retail Strategy at CI&T
Debt: It’s What’s for Dinner
Food and beverage are at the epicenter of festival premiumization and has in turn become a key source of internet outrage. One TikTok user went viral in 2024 for touting the $64 she spent on two burritos and a flavored water. This year, food creator @karissaeats shared everything she ate during one day at Coachella, including a $25 “sparkly pink Caesar salad” and a $17 smoothie. If you want a cocktail? It’ll cost ya about $23 for a Red Bull Vodka or $16 for a White Claw Hard Seltzer.
As one of @karissaeats’ followers mused:
"These prices hurt my wallet, and I'm not even there."
However, Coachella’s menu could be considered tame in comparison to some of the other “premium events” that have used exclusive culinary offerings and bottle service as their main draw. At Formula 1 Miami GP in 2023, $350 empanadas, $450 lobster rolls, and $245 ice cream were on the menu. (Not to mention the $42 Wagyu steak sandwich that looked more like an Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich.) And folks attending Miami’s Ultra Music Festival this past March had to shell out thousands of dollars, with a $1,500 bottle of Dom Perignon being one of the more conservative options.
Spending an exorbitant amount on elite-sounding fare is par for the course. If you truly want to garner a sense of belonging, you have to participate. But to what end does participating in the name of belonging become fiscally irresponsible, or even impossible?
How Brands Add to the ‘Cost of Experience’
Brands are capitalizing on attendees’ desire for experience by embedding themselves into the unique culture and community of each unique festival. Coachella in particular has become a top line item in brands’ marketing budget, largely due to its younger and celebrity-leaning clientele. While there is power in “being where the people are,” the way brands decide to show up simply reaffirms that even in cases of “community-centered activations,” not all are welcome.
Sure, some brands kept things simple, even scrappy, to democratize their products onsite. Good American’s bandanna vending machine gave concertgoers the perfect festival fashion accessory. A high-impact, low-lift effort that got their social circle buzzing. But for others, the creative, technological, and budgetary limits seemingly did not exist.
Aperol, American Express, Neutrogena, and Pinterest have gone all-in on creating on-site activations and lounges where visitors could cool off, relax, capture social content and test products. But with these spaces come capacity limits, which is why AMEX has limited its experience to card users, a tactic that not only creates an air of exclusivity but reaffirms the benefits of membership. Arguably, Pinterest was the only brand to truly double down on accessing, marketing that bringing everyday music fans in was key to the experience.
Brands like REVOLVE and 818 Tequila have taken things a step further to fully capitalize on Coachella’s experience-hungry clientele. These branded onsite outposts featuring exclusive music sets, giveaways, and other unique opportunities were designed with an exclusive “in crowd” of influencers and celebs in mind.
They also have become central watering holes for brand partnerships and collabs, with influencer AlixEarle using REVOLVE as a selling platform for her Sip Margs and Hailey Bieber’s Rhode Skin bringing its viral Photo Booth concept to the 818 Outpost. Sure, the vibes are high, especially for content creators eager to amplify on their social channels, but how much do these exclusionary experiences generate meaningful brand engagement and loyalty?
These brands took very distinct approaches with varying levels of accessibility, yet they all arguably tie to the same goal and outcome: to create an experience that activates brand buzz outside of the event and drives not just intrigue but extreme yearning inside the event to drive traffic and long-term engagement. But when the cost for participation becomes so high that only the rich, elite, and most influential can access, when do they start to become exclusionary and completely contradict the initial goal of the festivals they’re a part of? After all, the more brands alienate their total addressable market, the more significant the aftershocks will be in the form of damaged brand love, retention, and loyalty.
For now, consumers will happily slap down their credit cards and tap to pay for an experience that promises to be shareworthy across all socials. However, as economic volatility continues to influence consumer spend, it may only be so long until the cost of experience surpasses the value of participation. And should this trajectory continue, festivals like Coachella may soon become homogeneous playgrounds for the wealthy social media elite, undermining the cultural and communal mission they once championed.
It’s another 90-degree day in the Colorado Desert. The humidity is low, but the sheer strength of the sun is enough to challenge the vigor you feel for being here: Coachella. By the time 11 a.m. hits, you need sustenance. You’ve tried to hold off by grabbing some free Takis and ginger shots, but you have no choice but to partake in one of the many bougie food options. Your hand starts to itch as you wander around and peek at the options. Caviar tots for $45? A simple bahn mi for $24? Maybe you can go back to the Takis activation…
Coachella and the growing list of music festivals worldwide were initially designed to be cultural communes. Dedicated spaces where people from all walks of life could unite and bond over their shared love of music. But over time, festivals have become more about “the vibes” than the music itself.
Nearly 60% of millennials and Gen Z consumers have said they would rather spend their money on experiences like travel and concerts than save for retirement. And so, brands have done what they do best: monetize.
Over the last five years in particular, the monetization of festivals has spurred the creation of full-blown Commerce-enabled villages. Retailers, CPG brands, and tech players have converged to create one ultra-luxe destination with some very high-end background music.
This premiumization has made music festivals coveted hot spots for brands and their cohorts. The aim? To generate buzz and capitalize on a long-tail of conversation built around the event itself. But the growing pool of revenue tied up in these events has made the cost for participation much higher. Greater costs have led to a squeeze on the experiential economy that, as a result of economic volatility, may soon burst.
As prices surge and in-festival activations become more luxe and exclusive, we can’t help but wonder who the new festival experience is actually for, especially as consumer spend becomes more volatile. In many ways, Coachella is the latest and strongest example illustrating the widening cultural and economic divide in America, and brands and retailers are actively participating in driving this divide in the name of brand-building.
BNRL: Buy Now, Rock Later
The debate of whether festivals are “too expensive” is nothing new. But it has reached a fever pitch following a Billboard report indicating that more than half of Coachella general admission attendees bought their tickets through payment plans.
Rather than create a pipeline for buy now, pay later (BNPL) vendors like Klarna and Afterpay, Coachella is getting a bigger piece of the pie by offering its own branded payment plan. Fans could buy their $599 tickets (including fees) by putting $49.99 down, paying a flat $41 fee, and paying the balance over several months. Anyone who defaulted on their payments was able to use their funds at Coachella, and they would incur no additional interest.
Some argue that Coachella’s payment plan is the most fiscally responsible option, especially considering the hidden risks of BNPL services. But that isn’t exactly the point. Coachella has offered this service for years, but it is the sheer volume of people using the service that’s alarming. Moreover, doing Coachella “right” requires spending thousands of dollars on not just tickets, but food, drinks, immersive brand activations, and FOMO-inducing moments you can brag about on social media. Even less aspirational lodging options like glamping can set people back a staggering $12,000.
Granted, Coachella is not the first festival brand to put dollars over fan experience.
In today's terms, Woodstock ‘99 vendors and showrunners were roasted by attendees for charging $12 for water bottles, equivalent to $23.11. And who could forget the social media shame-off that came post-Frye Festival? Despite the public outcry, we have only continued to this incessant manipulation of “supply and demand” accelerate, with CMA Fest hiking up prices by 227% year over year and even hyper-niche music festivals like Sand in My Boost completely selling out, including the event’s top-tier pass, which costs a hefty $4,999 plus fees.
A farcical post by BREZ cofounder Nick Shackelford, using AI to insert their beverage into the premium packages
It would be easy to use these steep entry fees as the proverbial “velvet rope” that only lets in the most committed music fans. Yet once one enters the festival grounds, they are bombarded with an experience that has mutated to include more “elite” touchpoints that intend to not just validate the ridiculous ticket prices but add more expenses to the pot. And with 66% of Coachella attendees telling Variety that they went to the festival for the experience, not the music, producers have the confirmation they need to make the scope of environments, vendors, and activations even more extreme, ultimately driving the cost of participation for consumers even higher.
“This level of investment for a questionable level of return begs the question: what does money really get you in today’s influencer-driven, highly branded economy?” ––Melissa Minkow, Global Director of Retail Strategy at CI&T
Debt: It’s What’s for Dinner
Food and beverage are at the epicenter of festival premiumization and has in turn become a key source of internet outrage. One TikTok user went viral in 2024 for touting the $64 she spent on two burritos and a flavored water. This year, food creator @karissaeats shared everything she ate during one day at Coachella, including a $25 “sparkly pink Caesar salad” and a $17 smoothie. If you want a cocktail? It’ll cost ya about $23 for a Red Bull Vodka or $16 for a White Claw Hard Seltzer.
As one of @karissaeats’ followers mused:
"These prices hurt my wallet, and I'm not even there."
However, Coachella’s menu could be considered tame in comparison to some of the other “premium events” that have used exclusive culinary offerings and bottle service as their main draw. At Formula 1 Miami GP in 2023, $350 empanadas, $450 lobster rolls, and $245 ice cream were on the menu. (Not to mention the $42 Wagyu steak sandwich that looked more like an Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich.) And folks attending Miami’s Ultra Music Festival this past March had to shell out thousands of dollars, with a $1,500 bottle of Dom Perignon being one of the more conservative options.
Spending an exorbitant amount on elite-sounding fare is par for the course. If you truly want to garner a sense of belonging, you have to participate. But to what end does participating in the name of belonging become fiscally irresponsible, or even impossible?
How Brands Add to the ‘Cost of Experience’
Brands are capitalizing on attendees’ desire for experience by embedding themselves into the unique culture and community of each unique festival. Coachella in particular has become a top line item in brands’ marketing budget, largely due to its younger and celebrity-leaning clientele. While there is power in “being where the people are,” the way brands decide to show up simply reaffirms that even in cases of “community-centered activations,” not all are welcome.
Sure, some brands kept things simple, even scrappy, to democratize their products onsite. Good American’s bandanna vending machine gave concertgoers the perfect festival fashion accessory. A high-impact, low-lift effort that got their social circle buzzing. But for others, the creative, technological, and budgetary limits seemingly did not exist.
Aperol, American Express, Neutrogena, and Pinterest have gone all-in on creating on-site activations and lounges where visitors could cool off, relax, capture social content and test products. But with these spaces come capacity limits, which is why AMEX has limited its experience to card users, a tactic that not only creates an air of exclusivity but reaffirms the benefits of membership. Arguably, Pinterest was the only brand to truly double down on accessing, marketing that bringing everyday music fans in was key to the experience.
Brands like REVOLVE and 818 Tequila have taken things a step further to fully capitalize on Coachella’s experience-hungry clientele. These branded onsite outposts featuring exclusive music sets, giveaways, and other unique opportunities were designed with an exclusive “in crowd” of influencers and celebs in mind.
They also have become central watering holes for brand partnerships and collabs, with influencer AlixEarle using REVOLVE as a selling platform for her Sip Margs and Hailey Bieber’s Rhode Skin bringing its viral Photo Booth concept to the 818 Outpost. Sure, the vibes are high, especially for content creators eager to amplify on their social channels, but how much do these exclusionary experiences generate meaningful brand engagement and loyalty?
These brands took very distinct approaches with varying levels of accessibility, yet they all arguably tie to the same goal and outcome: to create an experience that activates brand buzz outside of the event and drives not just intrigue but extreme yearning inside the event to drive traffic and long-term engagement. But when the cost for participation becomes so high that only the rich, elite, and most influential can access, when do they start to become exclusionary and completely contradict the initial goal of the festivals they’re a part of? After all, the more brands alienate their total addressable market, the more significant the aftershocks will be in the form of damaged brand love, retention, and loyalty.
For now, consumers will happily slap down their credit cards and tap to pay for an experience that promises to be shareworthy across all socials. However, as economic volatility continues to influence consumer spend, it may only be so long until the cost of experience surpasses the value of participation. And should this trajectory continue, festivals like Coachella may soon become homogeneous playgrounds for the wealthy social media elite, undermining the cultural and communal mission they once championed.
It’s another 90-degree day in the Colorado Desert. The humidity is low, but the sheer strength of the sun is enough to challenge the vigor you feel for being here: Coachella. By the time 11 a.m. hits, you need sustenance. You’ve tried to hold off by grabbing some free Takis and ginger shots, but you have no choice but to partake in one of the many bougie food options. Your hand starts to itch as you wander around and peek at the options. Caviar tots for $45? A simple bahn mi for $24? Maybe you can go back to the Takis activation…
Coachella and the growing list of music festivals worldwide were initially designed to be cultural communes. Dedicated spaces where people from all walks of life could unite and bond over their shared love of music. But over time, festivals have become more about “the vibes” than the music itself.
Nearly 60% of millennials and Gen Z consumers have said they would rather spend their money on experiences like travel and concerts than save for retirement. And so, brands have done what they do best: monetize.
Over the last five years in particular, the monetization of festivals has spurred the creation of full-blown Commerce-enabled villages. Retailers, CPG brands, and tech players have converged to create one ultra-luxe destination with some very high-end background music.
This premiumization has made music festivals coveted hot spots for brands and their cohorts. The aim? To generate buzz and capitalize on a long-tail of conversation built around the event itself. But the growing pool of revenue tied up in these events has made the cost for participation much higher. Greater costs have led to a squeeze on the experiential economy that, as a result of economic volatility, may soon burst.
As prices surge and in-festival activations become more luxe and exclusive, we can’t help but wonder who the new festival experience is actually for, especially as consumer spend becomes more volatile. In many ways, Coachella is the latest and strongest example illustrating the widening cultural and economic divide in America, and brands and retailers are actively participating in driving this divide in the name of brand-building.
BNRL: Buy Now, Rock Later
The debate of whether festivals are “too expensive” is nothing new. But it has reached a fever pitch following a Billboard report indicating that more than half of Coachella general admission attendees bought their tickets through payment plans.
Rather than create a pipeline for buy now, pay later (BNPL) vendors like Klarna and Afterpay, Coachella is getting a bigger piece of the pie by offering its own branded payment plan. Fans could buy their $599 tickets (including fees) by putting $49.99 down, paying a flat $41 fee, and paying the balance over several months. Anyone who defaulted on their payments was able to use their funds at Coachella, and they would incur no additional interest.
Some argue that Coachella’s payment plan is the most fiscally responsible option, especially considering the hidden risks of BNPL services. But that isn’t exactly the point. Coachella has offered this service for years, but it is the sheer volume of people using the service that’s alarming. Moreover, doing Coachella “right” requires spending thousands of dollars on not just tickets, but food, drinks, immersive brand activations, and FOMO-inducing moments you can brag about on social media. Even less aspirational lodging options like glamping can set people back a staggering $12,000.
Granted, Coachella is not the first festival brand to put dollars over fan experience.
In today's terms, Woodstock ‘99 vendors and showrunners were roasted by attendees for charging $12 for water bottles, equivalent to $23.11. And who could forget the social media shame-off that came post-Frye Festival? Despite the public outcry, we have only continued to this incessant manipulation of “supply and demand” accelerate, with CMA Fest hiking up prices by 227% year over year and even hyper-niche music festivals like Sand in My Boost completely selling out, including the event’s top-tier pass, which costs a hefty $4,999 plus fees.
A farcical post by BREZ cofounder Nick Shackelford, using AI to insert their beverage into the premium packages
It would be easy to use these steep entry fees as the proverbial “velvet rope” that only lets in the most committed music fans. Yet once one enters the festival grounds, they are bombarded with an experience that has mutated to include more “elite” touchpoints that intend to not just validate the ridiculous ticket prices but add more expenses to the pot. And with 66% of Coachella attendees telling Variety that they went to the festival for the experience, not the music, producers have the confirmation they need to make the scope of environments, vendors, and activations even more extreme, ultimately driving the cost of participation for consumers even higher.
“This level of investment for a questionable level of return begs the question: what does money really get you in today’s influencer-driven, highly branded economy?” ––Melissa Minkow, Global Director of Retail Strategy at CI&T
Debt: It’s What’s for Dinner
Food and beverage are at the epicenter of festival premiumization and has in turn become a key source of internet outrage. One TikTok user went viral in 2024 for touting the $64 she spent on two burritos and a flavored water. This year, food creator @karissaeats shared everything she ate during one day at Coachella, including a $25 “sparkly pink Caesar salad” and a $17 smoothie. If you want a cocktail? It’ll cost ya about $23 for a Red Bull Vodka or $16 for a White Claw Hard Seltzer.
As one of @karissaeats’ followers mused:
"These prices hurt my wallet, and I'm not even there."
However, Coachella’s menu could be considered tame in comparison to some of the other “premium events” that have used exclusive culinary offerings and bottle service as their main draw. At Formula 1 Miami GP in 2023, $350 empanadas, $450 lobster rolls, and $245 ice cream were on the menu. (Not to mention the $42 Wagyu steak sandwich that looked more like an Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich.) And folks attending Miami’s Ultra Music Festival this past March had to shell out thousands of dollars, with a $1,500 bottle of Dom Perignon being one of the more conservative options.
Spending an exorbitant amount on elite-sounding fare is par for the course. If you truly want to garner a sense of belonging, you have to participate. But to what end does participating in the name of belonging become fiscally irresponsible, or even impossible?
How Brands Add to the ‘Cost of Experience’
Brands are capitalizing on attendees’ desire for experience by embedding themselves into the unique culture and community of each unique festival. Coachella in particular has become a top line item in brands’ marketing budget, largely due to its younger and celebrity-leaning clientele. While there is power in “being where the people are,” the way brands decide to show up simply reaffirms that even in cases of “community-centered activations,” not all are welcome.
Sure, some brands kept things simple, even scrappy, to democratize their products onsite. Good American’s bandanna vending machine gave concertgoers the perfect festival fashion accessory. A high-impact, low-lift effort that got their social circle buzzing. But for others, the creative, technological, and budgetary limits seemingly did not exist.
Aperol, American Express, Neutrogena, and Pinterest have gone all-in on creating on-site activations and lounges where visitors could cool off, relax, capture social content and test products. But with these spaces come capacity limits, which is why AMEX has limited its experience to card users, a tactic that not only creates an air of exclusivity but reaffirms the benefits of membership. Arguably, Pinterest was the only brand to truly double down on accessing, marketing that bringing everyday music fans in was key to the experience.
Brands like REVOLVE and 818 Tequila have taken things a step further to fully capitalize on Coachella’s experience-hungry clientele. These branded onsite outposts featuring exclusive music sets, giveaways, and other unique opportunities were designed with an exclusive “in crowd” of influencers and celebs in mind.
They also have become central watering holes for brand partnerships and collabs, with influencer AlixEarle using REVOLVE as a selling platform for her Sip Margs and Hailey Bieber’s Rhode Skin bringing its viral Photo Booth concept to the 818 Outpost. Sure, the vibes are high, especially for content creators eager to amplify on their social channels, but how much do these exclusionary experiences generate meaningful brand engagement and loyalty?
These brands took very distinct approaches with varying levels of accessibility, yet they all arguably tie to the same goal and outcome: to create an experience that activates brand buzz outside of the event and drives not just intrigue but extreme yearning inside the event to drive traffic and long-term engagement. But when the cost for participation becomes so high that only the rich, elite, and most influential can access, when do they start to become exclusionary and completely contradict the initial goal of the festivals they’re a part of? After all, the more brands alienate their total addressable market, the more significant the aftershocks will be in the form of damaged brand love, retention, and loyalty.
For now, consumers will happily slap down their credit cards and tap to pay for an experience that promises to be shareworthy across all socials. However, as economic volatility continues to influence consumer spend, it may only be so long until the cost of experience surpasses the value of participation. And should this trajectory continue, festivals like Coachella may soon become homogeneous playgrounds for the wealthy social media elite, undermining the cultural and communal mission they once championed.
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