What happened when I created a fake VIP pass for a festival.
What happened when I created a fake VIP pass for a festival.
What happened when I created a fake VIP pass for a festival.
What happened when I created a fake VIP pass for a festival.
Part I — What if?
I had just landed in Australia.
My cousin had been living in Melbourne for a few years, and he took me to this massive festival.
Something like 40,000 people.
It was my first festival, and I was fascinated by the whole thing. The music, the people, the craziness of it.
And then, before the festival had even properly started, I had a stupid little thought:
What if I could have access to the whole festival?
Not just the crowd.
The backstage.
The VIP areas.
The places where you're normally not supposed to go.
I looked at my cousin.
“I could probably make a VIP pass.”
Because I'm a designer.
And if there's one thing designers know how to do, it's make something look official.
So I went onto the festival website and started studying their visual identity.
The logo.
The typography.
The background pattern.
I basically reverse-engineered the look of their branding and created my own pass.
One side had the festival logo.
The other side said:
ALL ACCESS VIP
I printed it, put it into a plastic necklace holder, and suddenly...
I had a VIP pass.
A completely fake one.
I showed it to my friends.
Everyone laughed.
It was just a joke.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
Because making the pass was easy.
The difficult part was going to be wearing it.
Part I — What if?
I had just landed in Australia.
My cousin had been living in Melbourne for a few years, and he took me to this massive festival.
Something like 40,000 people.
It was my first festival, and I was fascinated by the whole thing. The music, the people, the craziness of it.
And then, before the festival had even properly started, I had a stupid little thought:
What if I could have access to the whole festival?
Not just the crowd.
The backstage.
The VIP areas.
The places where you're normally not supposed to go.
I looked at my cousin.
“I could probably make a VIP pass.”
Because I'm a designer.
And if there's one thing designers know how to do, it's make something look official.
So I went onto the festival website and started studying their visual identity.
The logo.
The typography.
The background pattern.
I basically reverse-engineered the look of their branding and created my own pass.
One side had the festival logo.
The other side said:
ALL ACCESS VIP
I printed it, put it into a plastic necklace holder, and suddenly...
I had a VIP pass.
A completely fake one.
I showed it to my friends.
Everyone laughed.
It was just a joke.
Or at least, that's what I told myself.
Because making the pass was easy.
The difficult part was going to be wearing it.
Part II — Just walk in.
The first night, we're watching a hip-hop group performing in front of maybe 1,000 people.
I'm completely into the music.
And I've totally forgotten about my little VIP experiment.
Then my cousin:
“Geff.”
Nothing.
“Geff.”
I turn around.
“It's time.”
I look at him.
Then at the backstage entrance.
Then at my necklace.
My brain immediately says:
No fucking way.
I take a deep breath.
I pull the necklace out from underneath my shirt.
ALL ACCESS VIP.
And I start walking.
There's a security guy at the entrance.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
And I keep walking.
“Hi, how are you doing?”
He lets me pass.
That's it.
I'm backstage.
I turn around.
My cousin is standing there with the biggest smile.
“OH MY GOD. IT WORKED!”
And then it gets ridiculous.
I'm dancing backstage.
The main performer sees me.
He starts dancing with me.
And somehow...
he puts me on stage.
So now I'm dancing on stage with the artist.
My cousin is losing his mind.
And I'm thinking:
What the hell just happened?
From that moment, the VIP pass became a thing.
The festival lasted several days, and I started making sure every security person knew me.
I'd talk to them.
“How are you doing?”
“Everything good?”
“Need anything?”
When I left backstage, I'd sometimes bring them food or drinks.
Eventually they started recognizing me.
“Hey Geff!”
And suddenly, I wasn't sneaking into somewhere anymore.
I was part of the ecosystem.
I brought my friends backstage.
Got them onto stages.
Brought champagne and food back to the crowd.
At some point, I was even sleeping in the VIP tent.
The whole festival had basically been upgraded.
Part II — Just walk in.
The first night, we're watching a hip-hop group performing in front of maybe 1,000 people.
I'm completely into the music.
And I've totally forgotten about my little VIP experiment.
Then my cousin:
“Geff.”
Nothing.
“Geff.”
I turn around.
“It's time.”
I look at him.
Then at the backstage entrance.
Then at my necklace.
My brain immediately says:
No fucking way.
I take a deep breath.
I pull the necklace out from underneath my shirt.
ALL ACCESS VIP.
And I start walking.
There's a security guy at the entrance.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
And I keep walking.
“Hi, how are you doing?”
He lets me pass.
That's it.
I'm backstage.
I turn around.
My cousin is standing there with the biggest smile.
“OH MY GOD. IT WORKED!”
And then it gets ridiculous.
I'm dancing backstage.
The main performer sees me.
He starts dancing with me.
And somehow...
he puts me on stage.
So now I'm dancing on stage with the artist.
My cousin is losing his mind.
And I'm thinking:
What the hell just happened?
From that moment, the VIP pass became a thing.
The festival lasted several days, and I started making sure every security person knew me.
I'd talk to them.
“How are you doing?”
“Everything good?”
“Need anything?”
When I left backstage, I'd sometimes bring them food or drinks.
Eventually they started recognizing me.
“Hey Geff!”
And suddenly, I wasn't sneaking into somewhere anymore.
I was part of the ecosystem.
I brought my friends backstage.
Got them onto stages.
Brought champagne and food back to the crowd.
At some point, I was even sleeping in the VIP tent.
The whole festival had basically been upgraded.
Part III — No permission.
Looking back, the funny part isn't really that I made a fake VIP pass.
It's that tiny thought I had before the festival:
“What if?”
What if I could?
What if I tried?
What if I just acted like I belonged there?
I had absolutely no guarantee it would work.
And honestly, I was scared as hell walking towards that security guy.
But I had already made the pass.
So eventually, there was only one thing left to do:
wear it.
That's the part I find interesting.
We often think confidence comes first.
You feel confident.
Then you act.
But sometimes it's the other way around.
You act while you're scared.
You walk through the door while your brain is telling you you're completely ridiculous.
And sometimes...
the door opens.
The pass itself wasn't really the magic.
It was creativity.
Then courage.
Then confidence.
And once I was inside, being nice to people mattered more than the piece of plastic around my neck.
Maybe that's the real lesson I took from that festival:
You don't always need permission to imagine a different version of the experience.
Sometimes you just need to ask:
“What if?”
And then have the courage to find out.
Part III — No permission.
Looking back, the funny part isn't really that I made a fake VIP pass.
It's that tiny thought I had before the festival:
“What if?”
What if I could?
What if I tried?
What if I just acted like I belonged there?
I had absolutely no guarantee it would work.
And honestly, I was scared as hell walking towards that security guy.
But I had already made the pass.
So eventually, there was only one thing left to do:
wear it.
That's the part I find interesting.
We often think confidence comes first.
You feel confident.
Then you act.
But sometimes it's the other way around.
You act while you're scared.
You walk through the door while your brain is telling you you're completely ridiculous.
And sometimes...
the door opens.
The pass itself wasn't really the magic.
It was creativity.
Then courage.
Then confidence.
And once I was inside, being nice to people mattered more than the piece of plastic around my neck.
Maybe that's the real lesson I took from that festival:
You don't always need permission to imagine a different version of the experience.
Sometimes you just need to ask:
“What if?”
And then have the courage to find out.
Hey, are we on the same vibe here?
If yes, let's connect, let's meet, let's co-create or just let see…