London, Paris, Milan... Soulclipse?

Let's face it: Crustie fashion ain't the best. Unless you are wowed by hair-dye and little silver frogs in the belly-button, it ain't what you'd call haute couture. Even me, in my Ghanaian orange tunic, I have to bow down my head and admit that I am simply not cutting edge when it comes to festival clobber.

But along came this guy, with an amazing outfit. Psychedelic smilies on his superhero cape, and the grooviest trousers this side of the Sea of Marmara, he wowed the crowd at the Liquid stage as he rushed to and fro, cape fluttering in the wind. I wanted that outfit. Hell, if I hadn't spent all my Lira on those Israeli omelettes earlier I'd have made him a serious offer....