I’m Too Old for Lollapalooza. I’m Not Too Old to Judge Gen Z’s Gear Choices.

At 5 P.M. on a summery Thursday evening, I closed my laptop and prepared for battle. I French-braided my hair into a veritable helmet, impervious to the elements and impossible to accidentally tangle in the strap of my crossbody. I donned shin-length hiking socks and dusty old trail runners. My clear bag held miniature sunscreen, deodorant wipes, a Red Bull, and earplugs.

There is nothing more humiliating than being nearly 37 years old and getting ready for a music festival—especially one notorious for attracting mostly high-schoolers. Still, I was willing to risk it all to see Lorde.

Once on the grounds of Lollapalooza, I stopped feeling self-conscious and slipped into the role of cultural anthropologist with a PhD in gear. What shoes were the youth wearing to traverse the sloppy fields and concrete jungle? What hydration packs and water bottles were favored? Were they actually wearing diapers to avoid leaving their barrier spots? (I never got close enough to find out.) And what on earth were those little fake flowers attached to tiny barrettes? (Rave sprouts, and I will not be explaining further.)

The kids may not have been thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail, but they were rushing the gates, racking up the miles as they crisscrossed Grant Park, and carrying more supplies than I’ve ever taken on a day hike. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe how music festival culture and outdoor gear culture intersect, so I locked in.

Readers, consider this a dispatch from the front lines of Youth Culture™.  Here’s what I saw as the oldest person at Lollapalooza.

The Hottest Hydration Pack Was from a Brand I’d Never Heard Of

Hydration wasn’t cool when I was growing up. But on Thursday, I could count on one hand the number of festival-goers without a hydration pack cinched tightly around their shoulders. I saw the usual suspects—CamelBak, Salomon—but also a new-to-me brand called Sojourner, which markets packs specifically for festivals and raves.

These packs first caught my eye by virtue of being holographic (I like shiny things, what can I say), but I quickly noticed they had the same doodads and whatsits as even the most legit trail running packs: multiple zippered pockets, mesh paneling, quick-access credit card pockets on the strap, carabiners, and a very slim profile.

But a Hydration Pack Wasn’t Enough

The youth also carried so. many. collapsible water bottles. Nearly every hydration pack or crossbody I encountered had a collapsible water bottle hooked on, in various stages of fill. As best I can tell, these water bottles came from Temu—but if I were shopping, I’d buy this one instead, since it looks way sturdier and has a higher capacity.

Portable Fans. So Hot Right Now.

When I was a kid, my most prized possession at summer swim meets was a misting fan spray bottle with foam blades and a strap to loop around my neck. The 2026 equivalent is a USB-powered handheld fan. Again, this seems to be a Temu purchase, but I’ve also been getting TikTok Shop-stalked by the Shark ChillPill fan/chiller/mister gadget. I’m sure it’s very nice. Unfortunately, it costs 149 American dollars, which means I’ll be sticking with my thrift-store paper fan, thanks.

My Trail Runners Were Actually Kind of Chic

I rocked up in an old pair of Brooks Cascadia trail running shoes, and it was the one part of my outfit I felt extremely confident in. (I felt less confident about the bandana I wore as a headscarf; I kept waiting for everyone to point and laugh. “Ha! It’s clearly her first time wearing a headscarf! Who does she think she is?” But I digress.)

The first rule of any music festival is to keep your dogs covered, lest you risk getting stepped on or slurped up in quicksand. The youth and I were on the same page here. Trail runners made the most sense for the dust I encountered on Thursday, and had I gone back to the rainy, muddy fields on Friday and Saturday, they would’ve been perfect there too. The cushioning also makes sense for the long hours on your feet and the occasional barricade-sprint. Besides Brooks, I also saw Salomon, Hoka, and Adidas shoes—plus the classic music festival staple, Doc Martens. I saw no toes, and I’m happy about that.

Maybe the kids aren’t so different from us crotchety old gear nerds after all. Just replace “sunrise on summit day” for “barricade at Sombr’s set.” Even if I felt absolutely ancient wandering around Grant Park, I was also weirdly comforted. If Gens Z and Alpha are already obsessed with hydration packs, gorpy shoes, and braving the elements for hours on end, the jump from merch line to actual hiking trails can’t be that far behind.

Youths, I’ll be waiting for you at the trailhead once the last headliner runs offstage. I’ll be the one without a rave sprout.