Let’s be real. Rooftop bars are extremely cheugy. I try my hardest to like them, but they always remind me of sneaking into Le Bain at 17 with a fake ID… and a Van Cleef necklace I’m embarrassed to say was definitely not fake.
And don’t even get me started on the Frosé. The second I think about my Instagram circa 2018 — C1 filter, white border, “frosé all day” caption — I need a beta blocker and a MWH meditation ASAP. Fast forward to summer 2025, and somehow, against all odds, rooftop culture is still (somewhat) relevant.
And while I’d still prefer a guy taking me to Ampersand for a first date over a rooftop, there are a select few I’ll admit are actually... kind of fun. Keep reading for the rooftops I’m not embarrassed to post on my story.
Come for the $25 Shisho Verde, stay because your ex watched your story 25 seconds after posting.
When you’re dreaming of Amalfi, but your checking account just overdrafted at Sweetgreen.
Ned’s Declassified: “Wait, you didn’t go to Prep school?” survival guide.
Where everyone’s pretending not to recognize each other from Raya.
Italian elegance with Upper East Side snobbery — think Aperol spritz, but it won’t talk to you unless you went to Dalton.
“That’s more low-rent than his apartment in Midtown East… what most people call Murray Hill.”
When life gives you lemons, manifest a sugar daddy in linen trousers.
It’s giving quiet luxury on the outside, unprocessed daddy issues on the inside.
Sipping on martinis and quietly judging the girl wearing the YSL Cassandre bag.
Toro that almost costs as much as his therapy bill.
Blondes, botox and Brittany pretending she didn’t get in through a DM.
Cover photo: Pinterest