By Nathalie Barclay
The start of September is little celebrated: students go back to school, vacations end, and tans slowly fade away. Even some of our favorite drinks are considered ‘too summery’ for the fall. For Josh Ostrovsky, better known as the Fat Jewish, this excluded rosé, most especially his own brand of rosé, White Girl Rosé.
Ironic and fun, the rosé pokes fun at what we call ‘basic’ personalities, that is vapid people who say things like “Yasss” while holding a Starbucks frappuccino. More than just name of the rosé itself, the bottles have funny labels and writing, “Yasss” being one of them, that make fun of these types of ‘basic’ personalities.
To celebrate the end of summer (or maybe to change our minds about September?), White Girl Rosé + Babe held a party in Southampton called the The Pink Party, advertising it as “an opportunity to make questionable decisions at a mansion with a killer pool surrounded by hunks and babes and puppies.” The slogan didn’t disappoint.
The mansion, too big to be called anything else, was in the classic Hamptons beach style, with wood sides, shingled roof, and incredible beach access. Walking up from the street, there was an enormous blowup of a White Girl Rosé bottle, paired with a man on stilts juggling wine bottles. In the garden, there were lounge chairs, multiple bars, a rosé-colored pool and hot tub, a dunk tank, Babe pong (like beer pong, but with rosé and barrels), and even a zip-line. The party started off fairly tame, with people milling about, drinking rosé from the new White Girl Babe cans or from the rosé-themed cocktails, and eating barbecue. Things quickly changed with the onset of night: the mansion was lit with pink/magenta lights, people drank more, and the DJ played more dance music. Even the Fat Jewish could be seen in the VIP section, dancing and having a great time. At one point, a man in a rosé bottle bodysuit threw a flatscreen television into the pool, just because. All the while, the bartenders struggled to keep up with the demand for rosé, especially as the night drew to a close and the buses prepared to leave for the city. The energy was electric and people could be heard saying “Yasss,” but maybe not as ironically as they had when first arriving.
So September may be here, and the summer may be leaving, but with the weather still hot, and the rosé still chilled, The Pink Party seemed to be more than just a last hurrah. It might very well have been a promise from the Fat Jewish himself that White Girl Rosé is here to stay, no matter the season or month, and will always be a reminder of the fun and craziness of summer.