27 Things I Learned At My First Electric Daisy Carnival

Illustration for article titled 27 Things I Learned At My First Electric Daisy Carnival

Late last week, Julianne Escobedo Shepherd asked the Jezebel staff if anyone else wanted to go to the Electric Daisy Carnival in New York. Although I didn’t know what the Electric Daisy Carnival was (and basically still don’t), I said “Yes, I will,” because I’m trying to live más (when I said this to Kate Dries, she said, “You are?”).

So, on Sunday, rave expert Julianne put me and Ellie Shechet on a leash and led us around this year’s Electric Daisy Carnival, known by insiders simply as “EDC,” held in the parking lot of Citifield. For the seven-ish hours we were there, we braved really harsh environmental conditions (it was cold), but I managed to learn about a new and different culture, and about myself. Here’s what I found out:

1. How to use Snapchat.

2. EDC is an actual carnival.

Illustration for article titled 27 Things I Learned At My First Electric Daisy Carnival

3. All reporters have to do to become EDC “historians” is travel to an airport Marriott. (We had to take a 20-minute cab ride to pick up our credentials.)

4. Even if it’s 60 degrees and windy, the dress code is still as if it were 90 degrees and windy-ish.

5. What all kinds of butts look like.

6. What all kinds of boobs look like.

7. Typical EDC uniform for a woman is some kind of bedazzled bra and undies, or a leotard, or a little skirt that shows your butt cheeks and a pacifier. Some people wore little ribbons tied around their legs that made their butts look great, but I wouldn’t dare try it


8. Typical EDC uniform for a man is cargo shorts and a tank top or topless, and a beaded mask or bandana.

9. Everyone wears something called a Camelbak for hydration. Don’t ask ‘em to put your cell phone in it! It’s not a tiny knapsack.


10. Ravers used to wear bandanas to breathe in menthol which would increase their ecstasy high. Now they wear it for style, and it works.

11. EDC is a great place to meet a solo male headbanger.

12. A good pick up line is, “Do you guys like small dicks? My dick is so small,” especially when it’s aimed at three stone-faced Jezebel employees.


13. EDC has very fit actresses dress up in rave-y outfits (a banana, a clown, a flower) and then deploys them at various opportune moments. If I had been on drugs, this seems like it would’ve been exciting.

On their way to steal your raver.
On their way to steal your raver.

14. Despite EDC’s zero-tolerance drug policy, it was very clearly designed aesthetically for people on drugs.

15. Ravers are very health- and dietary restriction-conscious.

16. If you tell a face painter, “Do whatever you want, just don’t paint my ears,” he will paint all the way down your neck and into your hair.

Illustration for article titled 27 Things I Learned At My First Electric Daisy Carnival

17. A PLUR (Peace, Love, Unity, Respect) handshake is a thing but it is not a sex thing.


18. When beat drops happen every five minutes, they start to lose their meaning.

19. Every 10 minutes, EDC will have an announcer remind you that you are at EDC, but I never forgot where I was.


20. It is warmer inside the ball pit than it is outside the ball pit.


21. Trance is the Hangover 3 of electronic dance music.

22. Bro Safari is a DJ for bros. Trollphace is too punishing.

23. I can’t tell the difference between most EDM songs (songs?).

24. In an argument between a white girl wearing a native American headdress and a bra with a festive turquoise beaded belt and a security guard, the security guard will always win.


25. Afrojack is kind of unbelievably handsome and vapes strawberry-flavored vape.

26. A cool way to dance is by moving your feet really fast like little kicks.

27. It turns out the real electric daisy was inside of us the whole time.

Top image via Adi Adinayev for Insomniac. Middle images by Ellie Shechet. Bottom Snapchat by Joanna Rothkopf for Jezebel; follow us at jezebeldotcom.

Senior Editor, Jezebel

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Consider this: what if the drop never came? What if that incremental build up of tearing synths and pulsing kick drums wound itself up further and further, your arms outstretching with every climb, your sinewy ligaments strained through anticipation, reaching, nearly reaching something, only it doesn’t end, it keeps stretching, tearing higher, forever and ever. That glorious release, the one that has sent globules of sweat-mixed-tanning-oil into the fibres of your deep v All Saints tee, the one that has pulled the hairs on the back of your neck up like blades of barley, what if it simply never came?