I visited NYC’s hottest summer insta-trap, the Rosé Mansion pop-up, partly because my girlfriend was visiting and I thought it would be fun. Really, I already scored the tickets out of morbid curiosity. How would rosé, long misunderstood— even after it became good—be portrayed?
The Mansion was supposed to represent everything ruthless marketing and those who can afford the time and brain cells to crush wine all day purport it to be: Casual, fun, fresh-meets-slightly seductive; no longer a wine but a warm-weather decoration. I was surprised that, as fun and pouty-cute-pic-friendly as it was, rosé was done some educational justice.
