Independence Day Party: Where’s The Dress Down Memo?

Posted by Styloko

Former Sunday Times Style Features Editor Ruby Warrington recently relocated to New York, where she’s now based as a US correspondent for the paper.

In her weekly Styloko column, Ny-loko, she dissects NY style through British eyes – will she ever dress like one of them?

A reformed shopaholic, her wardrobe mantra these days is ‘quality over quantity’ (check out her Lust List), while her idea of shopping heaven is her new West Village apartment, complete with walk-in wardrobe.

Carrie Bradshaw, eat your heart out.
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July 4th celebrations have meant a week-long party vibe stateside and, noses pressed to the windows overlooking the Hudson river at the Boom Boom Room on Wednesday night, we thought we’d found the perfect place to watch the Independence Day fireworks. Until a waitress moved us on, that is, explaining that the people on the tables behind us had effectively paid for the view when they reserved their seats.

With time running out we hot-footed it to the roof at Soho House, where you couldn’t actually see the fireworks, but at least the party atmosphere was in full effect. Girls in the pool in wet t-shirts and everything! In fact, if I’d been expecting some serious outfits on this, the biggest night out of the year (after Halloween, when you most definitely do get some outfits by all accounts), then I was about to be sorely disappointed.

The national holiday obviously also meant a holiday from designer labels and expensive blowdries. Towering heels had been swapped for flip-flops, and statement designer dresses left in the closet for once, in favour of denim cut-offs and faded rock ‘n’ roll tees. These were clothes for grilling meat, drinking frozen cocktails out of plastic cups and dancing to records by Bruce Springsteen. With my salon-fresh mani-pedi, leopard print wedges and navy silk Vince t-shirt dress, I felt like such a… tourist.

The only thing to do was order a pitcher of Soho Mules, kick off my shoes and find a sun lounger to watch the action from. Not the fireworks, no, but the grown men and women of New York City letting loose at what felt like the frat party of the summer.