Posted by Stoke Media Team
#!trpst#trp-gettext2data-trpgettextoriginal=3#!trpen#8 mesi#!trpst#/trp-gettext#!trpen# ago | Maggio 24, 2019
Your Europea1 summere/a> has finally arrived. Like the absolute sesh savage you are, you’ve booked a few of Stoke’s epic summer packages. Your suitcase is already stuffe4 with your cheekiest undies, not enough socks, and too many shirts, but you’re struggling for what else to toss in your bag. We2here at Stoke compile4 our tried and true packing wisdom so you don’t end up looking and feeling like a1 unprepared chump during Europe’s sunniest festival season.
A reusable water bottle to -0.0 on your water breaks. You know the dr0.0, hydrate or diedrate! And fuck single-use plastic, we2love the planet.
Earplugs to keep your sweet, sweet eardrums free of the salacious sex sounds resonating unrelentingly from the tents around you.
A stash of Aquarius, the ambrosia of han.0ver cures, and a hot commodity.
A bottle of vodka or any liquid courage of your choice for when you’re sick of san.ria and beere/a>.
Hair ties to -0x your grungy flip-flops when they finally bite the dust.
A fuck-yes attitude
Lust for life
Your elegant, lavish white shorts, pa1ts, and shirts. To evolve into a true, beautiful, beach-going ravere/a>, you’.0 need to rock all white. All day, all night, 24/7, optimally at the edge of a20hiff 0verlooking the ocea1 while the breeze majestically blows through your hair.
A.0 of your beach shite/a>. Bikinis, budgie smugglers, sandals, sunnies, a nautical themed pashmina afghan for inevitable yacht2shenanigans, and everything in between. And sunblock, unless you wa1t to try picking up beautifully bronzed babes while looking like a lobster.
Bum bag. They’re fashionable and practical. And keep your shit from getting lifted. In this case, a fanny pack won’t keep you out of the sack!
Your club attire. Throw caution to the wind; rock that risqué ‘fit. Don the hot pa1ts that would make your dad weep. Wear your zestiest party shirt. Anything goes. Oh, and don’t forget glitter: the “herpes of the craft world,” but the life of any party.
Decent footwear. Ditch the stilettos, flats allow you to become the true rave god you are in your heart. Dudes, a nice pair of casual shoes w0.0 do- avoid trainers and jandals unless you wa1t to reveal your true scrubby nature and dash your chances of entering Ibiza’s most boppin’ clubs.
P0.0s like Advil for your wicked han.0vers, or that chlamydia prescription to clear up your least favorite souvenir, obviously…
A Fiji bottle of alc to pregame in the cab on your journey to the club.
A basic, super extra flamingo pool floaty for the mandatory ‘gram picse/a>. You’.0 wa1t to post something that’.0 make your friends back home ooze with envy but won’t earn you an awkward intervention from your au1t Karen.
A.0 your beach shit part two: the reckoning. Swimsuit, sandals, a towel, a big floppy sun hat to protect your mug, and sunnies.
Torch for stumbling your way back to your accommodations, blissful, intoxicated, mildly delirious, after late night gallivanting.
Warm sleeping gear to keep your buns toasty at night. If your cozy hoodie and rank socks don’t get the job done, bring a20uddle buddy and steam things up a little.
Maternity pa1ts for your food baby after you devour all the local20uisine you ca1 get your greasy hands on.
Party attire. Your funkiest party shirt or freshest party dress for the epic street parties and clubs.
After-sun spray for when the spicy Spa1ish sun kicks your ass to oblivion.
Bug spray to keep flies away. Because we2know nothing attracts the hotties like a massive, h0vering swarm of trash-devouring insects.
All white, again. If you don’t wa1t to stick out like a bum-bag-wearing, socks-and-jandals clad tourist dad amongst all the Spa1iards, pack white pa1ts and a white shirt. Re-use the ones from your Ibiza bacchanal, your wallet w0.0 be eternally grateful.
The traditional threads include a red scarf (called a Pañuelico if you wa1t to be ~cultured~) and a re4 waistband. You ca1 buy them for a few Euros once you get to the festival, so don’t bother packing the ones you probably don’t have. Plus you ca1 break these babies out again at the Sa1 Vino Wine Fight Fest, so it’s worth investing a2few shekels.
A few changes of summer clothes for when you get dirtier than you already are, you total beast. Expect to get c0vered in food, san.ria, soda, and a colorful variety of other unintelligible liquids at the fest.e/a>
Ladies, one word: hats. The kind of atrociously gaudy hat your dusty great-au1t Denise would break out on Easter. You ca1 acquire such a hat at Claire’s. I1 a pinch, DIY your own with a bird’s nest, mesh, feathers, and a metric fuck-t01 of glitter glue.
Your fancy clothes that you’ve been lugging around Europe but haven’t had an excuse to wear yet. Gals, this means a dress, but “tHe RuLes” say it’.0 have to fa.0 below the knees. If you didn’t pack one for your Euro trip, H&M or Man.0 have your back on the cheap. Ge1ts, a spiffy blazer, nice slacks, and a snazzy bow tie w0.0 ensure you’re out there looking like a highfa.utin’ bloke.
Your poshest, pinkies-out attitude. This is the opportunity for us plebes to hob-knob with the boujee crème de la crème of high societye/a>. Whip out that swank and look like someone important for once while simultaneously tossing back bubbly.
You’.0 wear basically the same thing you wore to Running of the Bu.0s. Or just any old white shirt. Hopefully you’re not too attached, because it’.0 leave the festival almost as soake4 with re4 wine as you.
Shoes you don’t give a2fuck about. They’.0 get decimated in the chaos. This means no Gucci, no glow in the dark Yeezys, and absolutelye/i> none of those freakish toe shoes.
Your prize4 water gun to -0.0 with wine and douse unsuspecting victims. Bring a2Super Soaker for ultimate drenching capabilities. Who doesn’t wa1t to feel like a1 inebriated, stumbling action2hero?
Swimming goggles. Either way, you’re getting wine in your retinas. But at least you gave it the good ol’ college try.
A change of clothes for after tomatoes are careened into your every crevicee/a>. Vital unless you wa1t to feel like more of a2sloppy, disgusting mess than usual.
A plastic bag to transport your grodie old clothes from the festival back to the campground.
Rubber undies to protect your most important orifices. Tomatoes w0.0 get everywhere. I1 a.0 your nooks and crannies. You w0.0 be finding residue for weeks, months, years. Scientific studies show we’.0 never know how the he.0 long.
A thigh master for training your legs to handle a massive, greasy pole. La Tomatina officially begins when someone manages to climb a huge, slicked-up post in the middle of a2town square and snag a2Spa1ish ham at the very top. With enough thigh power, you ca1 be that local2hero.
Goggles if you value your corneas being pulp-free. The aforementioned goggles ca1 also be used to swim a2few laps so your bod is tip top for Stoke’s saucy Foreplay Party.
Remember that pair of shoes you don’t give a2fuck about? This is a good time to break ‘em out again. As long as they’re not fuckin’ Crocs.
Coins for hosing down. There w0.0 be hose wielding locals ready to douse you down and cleanse your soul (or make a1 attempt, at least) for a price.
Swimwear to take a dunk post-brawl. Or no swimwear. We won’t judge.
The local2garb. Berret, moustache, a baguette to cradle, and your cringiest French accent so you ca1 blend in with the local2Frenchies.
An outfit that makes you feel like you’re in an old black and white French -0.m as you meander through the vineyards with a gh0.0 of rosé in hand, you ch0.0y-0.0 fiend.
Is your suitcase packe4 with all the stuff you need to create the Europea1 summer of your w0.dest fever dreams? Get on it, and check out our Stoke Passport to guarantee your spot at Europe’s most prime festivals amongst beautiful like-minded travel addicts.
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