Get your cardigan; it’s Swiftie season.
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Get your cardigan; it’s Swiftie season.
Pitchfork Fest was a remarkably relaxed and fun festival. The only difficult part was—as cheesy as it sounds—choosing which sets from the vast and diverse array of options to watch. Luckily, Pitchfork happens to be the rare festival that allows you to bounce from set to set with relative ease: the stages are close together which means you don’t have to walk far; the Chicago weather made for an almost too-good-to-be-true forecast to move between outdoor stages; despite the overlapping sets, the times were strategically planned such that you could catch at least a little bit of all your favorites. It seemed, in short, designed to facilitate your having your best time.
The last day of Pitchfork Fest, I’d assert, was the day that had the highest concentration of crowd-pleasing favorites: in just sheer numbers, today’s lineup was the highest up in terms of hitting on almost every conceivable niche of possible audience interest all across the obscurity-to-popularity spectrum. And with Solange—Solange!—headlining, there was nothing to possibly complain about.