Ain't life great
The rave generation may have hit middle age and given up sweaty clubs, but the party must go on regardless. Jessica Brinton introduces Britain’s new, chilled-out middle class
It’s a balmy day in the grounds of Kenwood House, in Hampstead, north London. As the mellifluous sounds of world music drift across the grass from the Jazz Café Picnic stage, James is digging around in the freezer bag for the champagne.
“Where did you put the second bottle of Moët?” he asks, eyeing Kate from underneath the brim of his floppy Carhartt sunhat. “I saw you put it in.”
“It’s in the same bag as Jake’s nappies and my iPod,” says Kate absently, lying back on the picnic rug, rearranging her bright-pink Matthew Williamson skirt around her, adjusting her bikini strap and taking a long, contented drag on her roll-up. “I’m sure he’ll find it,” she tells herself, staring out across the crowd of kindred spirits, who all look as blissed-out as she feels. “Otherwise, he could always look for it later.”
Reader, we are in the presence of the Big Chill generation, a breed of “responsible hedonists” aged between 30 and 50, with increasingly familiar habits.
You may not know them by name but, trust me, you have seen them. Lolling with friends in the park on sunny Sunday afternoons, with barbecues and Frisbee. Basking in the gardens of gastropubs, sipping Pimm’s, with babies grizzling on their knees. Prostrate on the grass at music festivals with candy-coloured names such as Summer Sundae, Beautiful Days, Lovebox, Fruitstock, Jazz Café Picnic and the Big Chill. They’re young(ish). Trendy(ish). And their credo is to cast aside British stiffness and be as laid-back as possible, as often as possible. They are poised to become the new middle-class Establishment.
But who are these people, and where do they come from? Big Chilling is what became of some of the 1m or so ravers whom the government estimated were dropping Es and dancing every weekend back in the mid-1990s. When the party ended, they got jobs, mortgages and children, as they were supposed to. But instead of packing away their party shoes and getting out the lawnmower when they hit the big three-oh, they carried the dance era’s ethos of living for the moment straight into their adult lifestyles.
Lost weekends in a field in Somerset became lost weekends in a field in Shropshire — only this time it was legal, and you could bring the kids and a Cath Kidston tent. There would be a champagne bar, yoga classes, speed-dating, croquet and Lemon Jelly headlining (some of the highlights of the Big Chill festival this year, and last year, and every year since it was conceived 11 years ago). Or lost afternoons on Primrose Hill, with a few bottles of good rosé. Or whole lost holidays in villas in Ibiza, carousing with “the original gang of 10” (although these days, of course, being that much older, they make sure they get some sleep).
They were always a mischievous, determined bunch. Now, by taking matters into their own hands, they have cleverly reinvented the rules of being 39 — and, in doing so, they found a way of staying young for as long as they want.
And they’ve got the rest of us doing it too. Their musical taste — Mylo, Röyksopp, Groove Armada, Basement Jaxx, Gotan Project, Fatboy Slim, Goldfrapp, Fila Brazillia and Ska Cubano — is the easy-going soundtrack of bars, pubs and supermarkets everywhere. Their look (understated 1990s utility wear with an esoteric flourish, regardless of age) has become the sartorial calling card for most self-respecting Brits under 50. And their cuisine — upmarket munchie food such as potato wedges with sour cream, gourmet pies, sausage and mash, banana and vanilla smoothies — is probably what you eat most days. The rise of the hip hotel owes its existence, in part, to the wanderlust of Big Chillers (not for them the Hiltons and Meridien megoliths — this lot prefer atmosphere and authenticity). So, too, the comeback of camping, surfing and keeping allotments (it’s their nostalgia for running around in the great British outdoors). And make no mistake: it’s a Big Chiller entrepreneur who just opened an organic deli on the corner where the newsagent used to be.
Some find this hippie-lite ideology irksome. Big Chillers, you see, are not particularly industrious, nor ambitious for much more than a nice quality of life. To this, however, they apply the strictest standards. This explains why they are rarely 100% satisfied, and harbour a long list of escapist fantasies — quit the job, scoop up the kids, hit the road, sell the house, buy a camper van, move to Spain — while muttering darkly about “life being too short”. The truth is, though, only a tiny fraction of them are subversive enough to do anything about it. Secretly, they know as well as anyone that life is better in dreams, even if they’re better than most at making their own come true.
Next weekend, 25,000 standard-bearers will come together again at Eastnor Castle, in the Malvern Hills, for the annual Big Chill festival, their spiritual home. They will groove to exotic music, eat good food, dress up in funny costumes and go to bed by 2am. On Sunday night, they’ll head home, soothed and spiritually refreshed by a weekend among like-minded souls — and, most important, young again.
Do pray that it’s fine weather. There’s only one thing Big Chillers appreciate more than a bloody mary sipped from the comfort of a big, squishy beanbag — and that’s a beautiful British sunset.
YOU'RE A BIG CHILLER IF YOU . . .
Eat Potato wedges with sour cream, Sunday roasts, Kettle Chips and Ben & Jerry’s.
Well, I do eat Potato wedges, but only because they're one of the only veggie options on most pub/restaurant starter menus! 
Listen to The Best of Groove Armada, Zero 7 (both albums), the Back to Mine series, any of the Café del Mar albums (especially Vol 2).
Well, I've only got two of the Back To Mine albums...
Drink Bloody marys (big jugs of, on Sundays), champagne (like water), water (the feel of a plastic bottle in your sweaty hand makes you so nostalgic), those lovely Innocent smoothies.
Smooties are nice and refreshing... Don't drink champagne - prefer beer... Only drunk PIMS once - last weekend, but very nice and refreshing!
Drive Something that takes a kid’s car seat, but really you dream of a camper van.
Nope, don't drive and don't have kids!
Holiday As often as possible, but particularly on a Thai island in January (BC-ers don’t do well in the long, dark British winters) and camping in west Wales or Cornwall in July. Plus the festies all summer.
Erm, got me there!
Wear G-Star or Stone Island baggy denims, T-shirt and anorak, and Adidas trainers (men); Ted Baker T-shirts, Marc by Marc Jacobs shorts, Vexed Generation fleeces and Puma trainers (girls).
Only wear t-shirts - don't own any baggy denims or adidas trainers!
Can be spotted by your Ripped vintage ball dress (girls), shaven head with shiny patch on top (men), prematurely aged skin (both, thanks to the party years), fairy wand (both).
Shaven head with shiny patch... Well, I don't have that much hair, and what's left of it is short!
Like to say “Wicked” (no longer the language of the street, but you can’t help it), “banging” (ditto), “nice one, mate” (still cool — phew).
Erm, nope...
Love Your record collection (men); your best mate from way back when (girls); your four-year-old daughter, Flossy (both).
Don't have any kids, but do love my record collection! 
Consider your heroes to be Peter Hook from New Order (men), Debbie Harry (girls; still going strong at 60).
Okay, got me there - my favourite band is New Order! 
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