These ladies got their mums to sew their flag frocks.

“Stevo, are there many dogs?”
“Mate, there are dogs everywhere.”

The atmosphere on the tram heading to the 2010 Melbourne Big Day Out was full of boisterous trepidation. Like last year, it was a glorious 26 January day, and people were ready to party. But not the sort of partying that would attract the attention of dogs.

To be honest, The Enthusiast wasn’t that jazzed about the lineup. Much like a cinema that screens all the same nostalgic ’80s flicks because it knows the punters will pay to revisit their youth every time, the Big Day Out organisers were playing it safe.

The headliners were the inexplicably popular operatic prog trio Muse, ’90s dance has-beens Groove Armada and veteral industrial metal band Fear Factory. The lineup was well larded with Aussie journeymen: Powderfinger, Magic Dirt, Tumbleweed, Hilltop Hoods, Kisschasy, Grinspoon and Eskimo Joe.

Then there were the altstream heroes – Passion Pit, Lily Allen, Girl Talk, Dizzee Rascal, Devendra Banhart, Peaches, the Decemberists and the Mars Volta.

The Enthusiast’s highlight acts included Melbourne locals Clairy Baby Browne and the Bangin’ Rackettes, who specialise in retro R&B with girl-group harmonies; the Scare, whose insistent rhythms and shouty vocals recalled mid-to-late period Public Image Limited; and Ladyhawke, who wasn’t one for stage banter but whose sophisticated, ’70s-tinged pop was impeccably performed.

Fashionalism fail: patriotic BBQ apron worn backwards as cape.

But I was not nearly as psyched as Stevo and his mate as I entered the Flemington racecourse. I am, however, massively into people-watching – and there was plenty of that to be had.

The wearing of the Australian flag in various forms has tipped from being a casual, apolitical Australia Day gesture to an aggressive statement of racist nationalism to a different kind of casual, apolitical Australia Day gesture. I’m finding that – among young festivalgoers, anyway – it’s an instinctive loyalty that is much more about iconography than actually thinking through what it is that you’re “proud” of.

If you asked these kids to define ‘the nation’, I wonder if they could. It would be like asking them to explain why they would wear a suit or an evening dress to a formal event instead of a T-shirt and shorts, or why they picked Clubmaster sunglasses instead of Wayfarers or Corey Worthingtons. It’s just what they feel is called for on the day.

There is still a minority of genuine racists, of course, but what we can call “fashionalism” has become divorced from politics – it’s a sartorial statement with only pseudo-political inflections. And the ‘classic’ combo of Australian-flag cape and sombrero is fast becoming the music-festival equivalent of the little black dress.

Otherwise, fashion had returned to the ’80s. It’s almost absurd to say, “the ’80s are back”, because there is something about this magical decade that makes the fashion industry return to its key motifs in different ways every few years. In the early ’00s – the first time the decade was allegedly ‘back’ – I remember wearing early Madonna, Flashdance and Cyndi Lauper-influenced dancewear – ra-ra miniskirts, legwarmers, terry-towelling wristbands, chunky plastic earrings and off-the-shoulder T-shirts and windcheaters.

This Cobra Kai dojo member took time off from sweeping the leg to watch Midnight Juggernauts.

The next time the ’80s returned, they chose a new form: that of a giant Slor new wave and post-punk. Skinny jeans; Wayfarers; rolled-up T-shirt sleeves; skinny ties; triangular neck scarves. More recently, the ’80s-style power-dressing trend was said to be a reaction to the global financial crisis: exaggeratedly padded shoulders, pinstriped shirts and oversized blazers with pushed- or rolled-up blazer sleeves.

What I saw at the Big Day Out, however, was ’80s casualwear that looked straight out of teen movies. I call it Cobra Kai Chic. Bandannas were tremendously popular headwear for men and women, whether in tightly-rolled Olivia Newton-John style ropes or flat ribbons like sweatbands.

For women, high-waisted cut-off denim shorts and skirts in pale colours appeared to be the go. These were variously worn with leotard-like bodysuits, or baggy, cropped tops alarmingly similar to the one Bill wears in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.

While singlets for men varied between ‘wifebeater’, ‘Thai beer logo’ or ‘basketball top’ styles, both genders could also be seen in oversized muscle shirts with exposed sides. Men, of course, wore nothing under the shirts; women wore bras, bandeaux or bikini tops.

And then there was fashionalism. At the surprisingly packed Temper Trap set (at the Green Stage, which is where the BDO organisers seem to put the acts whose crowds they totally underestimate), I squeezed in among a sea of flag capes, flag bikinis, flag singlets, flag T-shirts, flag bandannas, flag shorts, flag dresses, flag hats and flag or Southern Cross temporary tattoo stickers.

Fashionalism win: vintage VB tinnies crocheted into beanie, worn with boxing kangaroo flag.

For me, DIY fashionalism shows the aesthetic at its best. I was less impressed to see people in purpose-made Australiana than I was to see people in outfits they’d cobbled together themselves. This is truly taking nationalism to the grassroots level. I was very impressed to see a guy wearing a beanie made using actual Victoria Bitter beer cans with tiny holes punched in the metal so it could be crocheted into the hat.

Fashionalism has also been incorporated into the carnivalesque Big Day Out tradition of groups – particularly, groups of women – dressing in identical costumes. For me this is always a touching sight, implying that while they wouldn’t be game to go it alone, these girls are happy to look silly as a team. I also imagine the planning sessions and working bees that must have been involved in anticipation of the big day.

I spotted one posse wearing Australian flag singlets with tulle ballerina tutus in Australian flag colours. Another pair had sewn mini-sack-dresses out of actual flags. On a hot day like this, these nylon sacks would possibly turn their bodies into impromptu boil-in-the-bag curries, but they were pleased to pose for photos.

But of course, the key accessory for this year’s Big Day Out was the sunburn epaulette. Wearing sunscreen, covering up with a T-shirt or any of the bazillion other SunSmart lessons drummed into every Australian primary-schooler seem lost on those in their twenties. Did I mention it was a beautiful day for cancer?