So here's the thing about New York: one second you're trying to find your AirPods in the bottom of a giant tote, and the next you're shimmying onto a rooftop in SoHo with jazz playing, fairy lights twinkling, and someone thrusting a dangerously perfect espresso martini into your hand.
This city moves FAST. But when you lean into it — like actually let it pull you into the swirl of energy it’s constantly pouring out — magical things happen. Like what happened to me last Thursday.
It Started With a Dress (Of Course)
I’d just gotten off a… let’s call it "eventful" FaceTime with my mother, who reminded me (again) that I have not given her any grandchildren and also compared my apartment to a "very bohemian broom closet." Mom stuff.
To clear my head, I wandered into a little vintage shop in Nolita because the window display was giving major ‘90s Saint Laurent meets "accidentally fabulous girl who just rolled out of bed." And I swear to Prada, I wasn’t even there for five minutes when I found this slinky chartreuse slip dress that fit like it had been made just for me and my mood. (Which, by the way, was: I'm going to say yes to whatever comes next.)
And just as I stepped outside in my new dress — tags tucked down my back, obviously — my friend Jules texted:
"Hey, rooftop. Jazz. SoHo. Bring your vibes."
Done. I was already three blocks away.
Jazz, Stars, and Someone Who Looked Kinda Like Jeff Goldblum
So the rooftop. Picture this: string lights zigzagging across a perfect June sky. The Hudson shimmering in the distance like it knew it was hot. And the band? Think trumpet solo that feels like a flirtation. Real New York stuff.
There was a bartender wearing suspenders and a mustard-colored pocket square (I know), and I asked him what he was famous for. He replied, without blinking:
“My espresso martinis. I've got hands like a nonna and the spirit of a speakeasy.”
I was both confused and intrigued. And let me tell you — when that cocktail touched my lips? It was like the guy had read my diary and mixed my entire personality into a coupe glass.
Reasons This Espresso Martini May Have Changed My Life
- It was not overly sweet. It had attitude.
- You could taste the espresso — bold, silky, not shy.
- The foam? Like a cashmere sweater for your tongue.
- That subtle citrus zest twist on top? Unhinged. Perfect.
Yes, I took a photo. Yes, it’s now the background on my phone. No, I am not okay.
But Also: The Vibe
People were dancing. Like actual dancing. None of this awkward-sway-while-you-hold-your-phone-in-one-hand situation. Every corner was little pockets of laughter and spontaneous soul train lines and someone reading Tarot for strangers.
A woman in a white jumpsuit caught my eye and said, “You belong here.”
I wanted to cry. But instead I said, “Obviously.”
The City When You're Not Looking
The thing I always forget (because I get too busy scrolling or stressing or trying to get my messy bun to look intentionally messy) — is that this city shows up when you do.
So maybe you don’t plan on ending the night barefoot on a rooftop with jazz in your hair and espresso buzz in your bones. But if you’re open, New York will always, always surprise you.
And honestly?
Next time someone offers you a drink and a good view at the same time — say yes.
Even if you're wearing a freshly purchased chartreuse slip dress that your mother would 100% not approve of.
She’s not invited anyway.
xo,
Rachel 💋
P.S. If you're looking for the address of that rooftop, I genuinely couldn’t tell you. It might not even exist anymore. That's the New York magic — it vanishes just as quickly as it appears. But if you’re in SoHo and you hear a trumpet? Follow it.
