I once read that there are more than 50 words for “snow” in the Eskimo “language” (this has been the subject of an ongoing debate believe it or not). And while I like to think I have 50 of my own, they all happen to be vulgar and unfit for print. Summer however, yields a far more polite but just as numerous vocabulary for the type of weather we’re having. There’s “beach weather”, that almost-too-hot sting of a cloudless day that can only be balanced by jumping in an almost-too-cold ocean. “Patio weather”, when the mosquitoes haven’t quite decided to attack yet and the light breeze won’t threaten to blow out your grill flame. “Window-shopping-with-ice-cream-in-hand weather”, “people-watching weather”, “brunch-with-unlimited-mimosas weather”. It wasn’t until I moved here to NYC that I found a new one to add: “Rooftop Weather”.
With NYC’s streets crammed with bodegas, irate cab drivers, and parks too full of pasty bodies attempting to achieve that slightly seared look, those lucky enough to have access to a rooftop clamber up. Be it the European models at the Top of the Standard, the pseudo-hipsters at the rooftop pools in Williamsburg, or in our budget-conscious case, a Spartan rooftop all the way up in Harlem.
An accessible rooftop in your apartment is sometimes almost as good as having a large living room and the moment Rooftop Weather hit, my friend Angel and company decided we should baptize it the right way and hold a feast.