Any similarity with ghastly, uncomfortable school camps ends there. Just as Guards officers refuse to lower their standards and therefore carry carpets, regimental silver and mascots to make their tents like home, so super-fashionable Notting Hill tents are done out like an Indian rajah’s anteroom. Combining utilitarian and stylish considerations, they are luxurious and elegant, their accessories including boho cushions and, yes, standard lamps.
Where has it all come from? The culprit is Glastonbury. With Mac cosmetics having a party there, and Elton John creating his own occasion, the antisocial, disconnected feeling that made the festival seem so enjoyably alternative has been tamed by the middle classes. Glastonbury veterans fear the beginning of the end, although this has been threatened for some time.
A decade ago, Glastonbury vowels were flat and aitches were dropped. Now, sadly, the conversation sounds exactly like Henley. How long before the music loses its sweaty immediacy and becomes as perfumed as the new breed of festival-goer? Already, the hunt is on for the best Jimmy Choos to wear in the mud. Even if it’s chic to rough it — at least for a couple of hours — Glastonbury dress essentials don’t change. Being shod to face all weathers is still the sartorial bottom line.