Sweaty nights

Outfit ideas for a night out in the summer in the city, and an essay

I took a long walk last Wednesday night, up from 88th street on the east side down to Spring street in Nolita. Even after sunset, it was 92 degrees with no sign of cooling down. By the time I reached 86th street, I could feel the sweat beads dripping down from between my inner thighs.

Kye Intimates bathing suit top (this one is super close/a little more coverage, and I like her (but really her) for more garnish, her for more sass — she’s an option too; this for an over shacket). 16 Arlington skirt, Savette bag (see also), The Row shoes

Choker and earrings (and bracelets for that matter) are LMC FINE!!!

By 81st, my face was covered by a film of sweat that made me look like a sunken, glazed donut. A soft, hot breeze came through just then, offering subtle comfort.

That a hot breeze could feel like respite is one reason I love the city in the summer, when the air gets thick and gentle, and the sidewalks sing their glorious chant of stillness.

What a strange relief it is to consider how atypical stillness can feel in New York. Yet by the end of June and well into August, it’s like the quiet has always been here.

Maybe it is always here and I don’t feel it because I’m the one who’s been on a bender, rushing to do this or that. To get here or go there, check this off, put that on.

All of that melts away with a summer in the city. It becomes like a kid home alone with their parents, while the siblings are gone. Relaxing into their not having to fight to get heard or be seen, just getting to be.

Soft and tender but real, like the stillness of summer in the city.

Nue Studio halter top (also love her and her; could stick a brooch somewhere on her) styled with Dior jeans, belt and bag. Shoes are Dior too! (These could stand in for shoe; they’re white but soooo precious; or these could be good)

Love that this buckle is ovular — and what happens when I clip it over to the side.

At dusk, if you take a walk long enough, you’re sure to find someone tangled in their own romance. The gentleman gazing up at the pink sky, with a foggy glass in his hand, vapor dripping down his wrist. The woman leaning on the door post, arms crossed, with most of her weight leaning on over to the same side where she holds her cigarette.

There’s a smirk of serenity on her face as she observes the passersby. These moments are aimless and gorgeous, leisure and pleasure. No agenda or incentive beyond being.

It varies greatly from the signature friction we come to know and go to bed with in the city’s better-known, get-it-done-or-die energy.

But summer in the city is a season of sweet, juicy nothing. And the nights?

Grover Rad sequined dress (there’s also this from Tory, or I’m so down with this), LMC jewelry

Eckaus Latta x Mango sandals (apparently, we sold them out! Good thing another NOTEWORTHY COLLAB is in progress with these from Literary Sport and Xero), Sole Studio clutch; intrigued by her too, and uhhh, what’s going on here?

Ohhhhh, the nights. The people spill out into the streets, wandering because it’s a sin to stay in — lining the stoops, walking the sidewalks, setting up collapsible chairs on this block or that, zig zagging in and out of the delis for AC and water. Maybe an ice cold beer.

Music blasts from the bikes, sometimes scooters, zipping by, and by nightfall, the neon traffic lights have replaced the remaining light of dusk. Making visible the unseen and turning the streets into one big, vibrating social club. No walls.

When it’s really hot, it feels like we’re frying — going crazy — together, our brains sizzling on the collective pan that is summer in the city.

Dior jacket, Orzo scarf styled as a top (the beaded fringe hem is a real cherry on top), Medaillon belt playing off scarab pendant (can also be worn like a brooch); All Three shorts (I size up 1x, and roll them over 2x; my alt rec — and I have these too — is this pair of boxers from Knix…they’re basically public period undies) and Havaianas slingbacks. I rec these in their place. Or these!!!

Jacket alt 1, 2, I’ll throw in a 3; and the scarf-as-top is a great trick for any pareos/sarongs/scarves you want to repurpose. Key is to go with something skinny and long (as opposed to square) so it’s easy wrap around the chest. Love the off black in these shorts too

By the time I got to 59th street on Wednesday, it was nearly 8pm and, I said, fuck it I’m getting on the bus. The sweat marks creating abstract lines across my red silk slip were fine by me but the balls of my feet were starting to throb, even though I had on my “walking shoes.”

So I ascended the step up to the M3, into the AC and rode down to 8th, sitting at a window as I watched the remains of midtown’s workforce walk their totes home. You could feel the itch in their march, how eager they must have been to get out of their starchy collars.

By 27th street, I’d counted at least three abandoned, melting cones lining Madison Ave., and the sweat marks were starting to dry.

Originally, I’d been wearing this top with these shorts —

Venroy baby tee (Patmos is next), Eterne shorts (lest you prefer these), Chan Luu bead necklace (?? anyone for a sardine bracelet!!??), Nili Lotan basket bag (tbh, doesn’t feel great on the shoulder when it gets too heavy), your shoe alt. Or, honestly, these. A simple tube top — black or striped would look great here too, with a shoe more like this/this for the Carrie of it all.

It had been what I’d worn all day and the night before but I changed because you never know where a summer city night could take you: the club or the ice cream shop, the fire escape or the bar

or to one of those stoops.

Regardless, a skimpy red slip seemed to better understand the galaxy of possibility of a city summer night.

Araks slip dress (also comes like this — less $$), Havaianas flip flops, Prada red satin pouch (still think she’s a winner)

The two tone in blue is something too (with a red flop instead), Havaianas floppies

I met Roxana around Bleecker street. She was hungry, I had eaten, so we stopped for food and I had a drink at a packed restaurant on Elizabeth Street where the World Cup was playing but only two people sat near us under the vast flag awning at the outdoor tables.

Matteau black halter top, Siedres cords (hot on these too, to style with a big ass long sleeve tee like this, and prob these — another alt that is more laidback but still with personality is these from Sir [on sale!]), Liffner suede clutch, good flip flops here

Hot girls walked by. Shirtless men too, with their tops slung around their necks like gym towels. One such shirtless man asked if the place had frozen margheritas and how much they were. Neither of us knew.

When I kicked my head towards the couple sitting near us they were in their summer romance. At points I could see both of their tonsils and I wondered whether summer in the city is in fact more uninhibited or if we just have more access to each other. Either way, I thought, man I love summer in the city.

Gimaguas halter top (same vibe, less see-through), Orzo Studio black silk skirt with bead hem, Mango sandals

Tee is from a Depop shop my friend Roxana found! But here are great dolphins from around the web. The Park sheer pants (with pink cotton undies under!; would have been good with a sheer shirt or slightly shrunken silky styled over the dolphin too if it were 4 degrees cooler); I consider these the more conservative pants alt? Merlette sequined bag, Dries sandals

The best outfits really do seem unfinished — there’s a break through point you can feel, even if you can’t understand what it is exactly. And dressing for the summer thrives on this concept of never being finished getting dressed. One thing missing, one thing off. One thing you forgot to change out of from bed. If all goes to plan, the next time you’re home, you’ll be going straight to bed anyway. Such is the magic of

summer in the city.

Maccapani dress (she’s here for a good time too), Versace heels, LMC bicep bangle and ear cuff

These dresses from Donde Esteban capture the same spirit; another exceptional colorway in the sandals

After the meal, we walked more. Down from Bleecker up to 7th, for soft serve without a line. The guys sitting outside had chocolate melting down the front of their knuckles, drying instantly into a glistening cast, mimicking the lines over their fingers and I thought, maybe I should have had chocolate too.

We sat for a minute, but then kept walking towards music — Madonna! — until we got to a bar with its windows and front door flung wide open. The crowd spilled out into the street and everyone danced.

By now I could smell my own skin with the effortless flick of a limb. The sun didn’t beat down my shoulders massaging them with its assuring warmth, but something else did — some kind of embrace, the thrill of what lay ahead as my legs got heavier and I started to think, dancing in the middle of the street, that it was time to make my way up.

So I dropped off Rox at 12th street, sweat beads drip, drip, dripping and kept walking until I could no longer hear the cascade outdoor chatter echoing through the streets in the sweat of tonight’s rendition of summer in the city. July 1, 2026