I Accidentally Crashed a Stranger’s Rooftop Party in SoHo and It Was… Iconic

Okay, so I know how this sounds. Crashing a party? In SoHo??? Like, who even am I?

But let’s back up for a sec. Picture this: it’s a Friday, the weather is finally doing that cute early-summer-in-the-city thing, my hair is behaving (thank you, Manhattan water? Maybe?), and I had just left a super impromptu mani appointment where I bravely chose coral instead of nude. Call it the winds of change.

A Stroll Turns into Something Else

I was walking down West Broadway with a lavender matcha in hand, pretending to window shop but actually just trying to manifest some sort of plan for the evening when I heard music.

Good music. Like, someone-watched-Clueless-too-many-times-and-created-a-vibe kind of music. Very ‘whatever’ and very fun. I turned my head and realized it was coming from above me… from a rooftop.

Now, listen — I’m not in the habit of climbing questionable fire escapes in borrowed heels (okay they’re mine, but I totally borrowed the money for them), but I noticed a group of people heading into the building like they were definitely going somewhere Important.

So I, naturally, followed them.

The Moment I Knew I Wasn’t Invited

We took the elevator (No. Stair. Walking. In. Heels. Thank you.) and when the doors opened — oh my god. Neon signs. Disco balls. A whole bar setup with someone literally wearing wings made of glitter tulle. It was like Studio 54 met Etsy and had a rooftop baby.

And me? In my denim midi and oversized white blazer looking like I worked PR for a Pilates studio. It was giving… accidental minimalism.

Right as I stepped out onto the roof, a very tall man with a nose ring handed me a rosé in a plastic coupe and said, “You must be Lexi’s friend.”

And I said, “I am. I love Lexi.”

(Spoiler: I do not know a single Lexi.)

Five Things I Learned at This Totally Unintentional Party:

1. If you walk into a party like you belong there, people just… agree.

   • Confidence? The ultimate accessory. Also, actual accessories help. My vintage Chanel belt carried its own weight.

2. Everyone in SoHo is either a model, a DJ, or somehow related to oat milk.

   • The guy I small-talked with makes artisanal alt-milk cocktails. Like White Russians but “sustainable.”

3. There is always a rooftop party happening somewhere. Always.

   • You just have to listen for the bass… and trust your instincts. And maybe wear a look that's flexible from day-to-disco.

4. The best conversations are the ones you didn’t plan.

   • I told a stranger that I once dated a guy who thought sushi was a personality and she laughed so hard she invited me to her pop-up vintage sale next week. I’ll remind you all on my IG stories.

5. New York really will surprise you if you let it.

   • One minute you’re spiraling in Sephora about bronzer tones, the next you’re dancing to Robyn on a string-light-lit rooftop with a woman named Plum.

The Exit

Right as the sun dipped below the Hudson and everything turned that syrupy gold color, my phone buzzed. Monica was asking if I was still coming over for game night.

I left the party with glitter on my shoulder and the kind of content smile you usually have to journal for.

So, maybe I wasn’t invited. Maybe Lexi still has no idea someone crashed her birthday/breakup celebration (we never clarified).

But I walked off that rooftop with a story, a great playlist, and three new Instagram mutuals who already liked my photo of the neon “Let’s Get Weird” sign.

“I didn’t know I needed it, until it happened” — me, about most spontaneous New York moments.

Until next time… wear the cute shoes. Always. 💁🏻‍♀️

xo,
Rachel 🌸
#NYCMagic #RooftopChronicles #AccidentallyFabulous