Here’s how I accidentally manifested a brand trip to Coachella by wearing a Gap belt 7 years ago

Stuff about watching something bloom from a seed you forgot you planted

This is the story of how I totally forgot that I manifested a Coachella brand trip with Gap via a belt I received for Christmas almost 10 years ago.

I know. I knowwwwww. Only I could write those words so I’m writing them.

Buckle up, you guys. Sorry, I had to.

The year was 2018 and I was working as a waitress at a boozy brunch spot in Alphabet City called Poco. I was also a prominent meme-maker, posting daily from my account that was called @louisvuittonbackpack at the time. I was a year out of college and living with a couple of roommates in a big building off the Myrtle-Wyckoff subway stop.

I don’t remember how or why I came to be obsessed with the belt, but it was high on my Christmas list that year. I must’ve seen it in a window. It’s a black leather belt with a golden metal buckle that spells G-A-P in their classic font. I thought it was a hoot because it was giving those infamous Gucci logo belts, which were still en vogue at the time. It felt inherently meme-ish and I had to have it. Like, oh you have a Gucci belt? Well I have a GAP belt! And it’s much cooler. I vaguely recall my mom going to great lengths to find it for me, calling all the Gap stores in the land. She is the most resourceful when she’s Santa. Even without the help of any reindeer, she sourced the belt.

Here’s me on Christmas morning, in a full Grinch sweatsuit, right after opening the belt:

Upon receiving it, I had to cut my own custom notches in it because my 24-year-old waist was just so tiny. Either that or the only one my mom could find was, like, XXL. Let’s just go with me having a tiny waist, for posterity.

Months later, I was getting ready to go to Coachella for the first time. My friends Gwen and Rebecca and I were going to stay at my grandma’s little house in Palm Desert and enjoy the second weekend of the festival with our GA wristbands we could barely afford. This was before I had ever done a brand deal, before “brand trips” as we know them now were even invented. I remember paying that ticket off for months afterword, the concept of being indebted to Coachella too real to be funny.

This was also before I had developed any sort of fashion sense. However, I did have style. I always had style. (Which is, of course, opinions based). The only festival I’d been to up until that point was Lollapalooza, so I knew what the festival attire prompt was: find the whackiest thing you can and then wear it in public, knowing someone will spill alcohol on it.

Here are some photos of me, days before the festival, trying stuff on at Urban Outfitters, so you can get a sense of my vibe at the time:

My memory of this moment is fuzzier than a Lola blanket so I can’t say for sure how The Belt ended up being part of my “day one” outfit. It definitely wasn’t the whackiest accessory I had in my shoebox room in Bushwick, but I put it in my suitcase anyway, probably unsure if I’d even wear it or not. Or maybe it was the only part of my outfit that I was 100% sure about. Who’s to say.

On April 19th, the first day of the second weekend of Coachella, I put the belt on my (teeny) waist to juice up a pair of truly heinous tie-dyed pants I made by pouring bleach haphazardly over a pair of merlot-colored chinos. Then I put on a white t-shirt that I had just Sharpie’d “What time does Taylor Swift go on?” across the chest. Next was a gauzy floral dress I fished out of a bin at a Brandy Melville factory sale (do they still do those?) and cut down the front so I could wear it like a long, flowy vest. I topped it all off with some yellow sunglasses and a brand new pair of Skechers. BAM! Day one outfit DONE! And I was feeeeeeeeling myself.

Here’s me taking pictures in front of the ferris wheel for the first time ever:

Now, it’s 2026, and I’ve been a full-fledged influencer for five years. Brand deals, brand trips, the whole nine. I just got back from Coachella (weekend ONE, biznatch) with Gap. Gap took me to Coachella. I was one of, like, seven creators chosen to fly out and hype up the Hoodie House, Gap’s activation in which attendees could buy a limited-edition festival hoodie and customize it with patches and beads. And I’m not even saying this because I was paid to- the hoodies are gorgeous. Thick and cozy and perfect for navigating the elements. You know when a hoodie has a nice weight to it? Yeah. That.

I brought my friend Gabi, a writer and poster, who also made her name (@Sighswoon) by making memes in the late 20teens. We were both so excited to be there with such a beloved brand that we both grew up with. We kept saying it all weekend: “We’re here with Gap!” It wasn’t until the day after the festival when I was looking for pictures of my first Coachella that I realized the invisible (leather) string at play here. I had been wearing the Gap belt the first time I ever walked the dusty Indio roads to get to the infamous ferris wheel! When I saw the pictures of my younger Gap-clad self, I screamed on the couch. Did this all happen because I wore the belt 7 years ago?

Here’s me and Gabi, decked out in Gap, at Coachella:

Sometimes you plant a seed and then forget about it until it randomly blooms in the unlikeliest of places, like a lone flower shooting up through a crack in the sidewalk. The moral of the story? I’m not sure. Don’t pour bleach your chinos or you’ll look fucking crazy? Going to Coachella is fun whether your wristband says GA or VIP as long as you have your girls with you? Don’t cringe at your past outfits and instead gaze lovingly upon who you once were and the Skechers you once wore?

Perhaps it’s much more simple, like a navy blue hoodie worn to a music festival: never stop connecting the dots of your life. At a certain point, everything will magically fit. Give or take a couple of notches.