Millennials are finding their own path, and it’s not a bad thing

Less than seven minutes after we got out of the car at last weekend’s Golden Plains festival, my daughter swung into action. Giant souvenir tablecloth from Thailand hung from the gazebo. Tent in the shape of a Kombi van laid out under a young pine tree. Directions issued to the men to wrestle the couch off the roof racks and lug it down to the stage.

I was so out of my league. I hadn’t camped for about a decade and – not sure if this is embarrassing or expected – I’d just rocked up at my first festival. At 56. Armed with two boxes of Aldi mojito mix, a velour queen mattress, my taffeta and lace Year 12 formal dress to wear with white cowboy boots and the knowledge I didn’t have to worry about anything.

My secret festival debut weapon? I was totally in the hands of Millenials.

Confession: even though I have three, I’ve hated Millenials other than Ash Barty. Derided them as snowflakes who even pre-pandemic would call in sick at the drop of a hat: “I’m just not feeling it today.” Who didn’t seem to have goals other than to find Brunswick’s best vegan chai or an ironic cardigan at Savers. Who think the struggle is real and songs without lyrics are better than In Between Days.

Well. Those days are over. Australia’s 5.4 million Millenials, I see you, I feel you, I heart you.

Golden Plains gifted stacks of things – free ferris wheel rides at dusk, food vans which were heaven after two years of culinary purgatory living at the coast, dancing in my bra with 9000 people in the afternoon, new musical horizons – but the best present was seeing a generation in a fresh light.

After Sadie had set up the camp while my husband and I basically wrung our hands, she took us on an adventure that lasted two days. She had a full plan and impeccable organisation. And everywhere we went, we bumped into twentysomethings from my kids’ childhood. The two Ollies, Conlan and Tripodi, were both gracious enough to look like they’d won first division Powerball when they clocked me and Chris, despite our vibe being more Biden than Bowie.

The greetings were great but the conversations and attitudes were the eye-opener. I’m guilty of thinking of Millenials as flaky because of their disinterest in what in the olden days we called settling down or growing up. That unswervingly meant learning to cook more than lasagna, buying houses and putting baby seats in a Camry by 24, then staying in the same job forever.