Rocking the Heatwave!
by Sophie Vershbow
Summer is a wonderful season, full of trips to the beach and cool lemonade sipped poolside on a hot afternoon.
You must be thinking of summer outside of New York City, where temperatures rise high enough to make the pavement cook the soles of your heels on your walk to work.
Worst of all for those of us post-grads who ditched Michigan and Wisconsin in search of warmer climates, we now trek to work each day amidst the city’s scorching temperatures. Having a good hair day? Not for long! What start the morning as smooth, straightened tresses soon rise to a pyramid of frizz fit for Egyptian architecture. Wearing a special outfit for that big promotion meeting? You better be sure sweat marks don’t show after waiting 20-minutes for the G train on a stuffy subway platform with hundreds of other damp bodies pushed up against yours. Got a big date tonight? Nice try! I bet you regret trying to wear makeup now that it’s dripping down your face, getting dangerously close to staining your brand new white cocktail dress.
I won’t even begin to get into the lawyers and bankers forced to wear full suits and ties all summer long. Based on how overheated I am in the entirely NSFW sundress I’m sporting at work, I can only image what it must feel like to roast inside a JACKET all day long. Really, my heart goes out to you guys.
I spent two summers during college interning at the Hearst Building on 57th Street and 8th avenue— a significant, but perfectly reasonable distance from my house in Chelsea. Since I wasn’t too keen on that professional experience, walking to work became my morning solace necessary to ground me for the day that loomed ahead. No one could take those walks away from me, even if it meant arriving drenched in sweat with all attempts I had made that morning to look like one of the “fashion girls” completely obliterated. I spent many mornings in the office bathrooms attempting to dab away the sweat that formed between my boobs without being seen.
Not that taking the subway is that much better of an option.
On route to a first date last summer I was trapped on a subway train with a broken air conditioner, rendering my bouncy hair limp, my date-night makeup useless, and my “perfect” first date outfit entirely stuck to my sticky body. By the time I made it from the financial district up to midtown (my fault for agreeing to go anywhere in midtown) I likely looked less like my profile picture, and more like someone at the end of a marathon.
But we are New Yorkers, and we are strong!
Sweating profusely at a free concert in Central Park is still a thousand times better than freezing our butts off while navigating the slushy, ice-laden sidewalks in stiletto heals all winter. Plus one day NYC fun-creators all got together decided to provide endless free summer activities to keep us happy, most of which are worth braving the heat for.
So suck it up, put on a wholly inappropriate outfit, find a rooftop to drink on, and enjoy the best season of the year to be a New Yorker.