Once prided as the ‘people’s slam’, New York’s major now doubles as a lifestyle carnival where attending is no longer just about watching, but being seen watching
Every August, the US Open rolls into Queens with its ever-expanding rituals of consumption. Fans don’t just buy in, they perform it: the $23 Honey Deuce held aloft for Instagram, the $40 lobster roll posted before the first serve, the $100 caviar-topped chicken nuggets bought as much for the flex as the flavor. The tennis has never been the cheapest day out, but lately the sticker shock feel less like a barrier than the point. The price tags are festival markers, proof that what was once a tournament with posh accents has morphed into a cultural happening. In what seems like a remarkably short time, New York’s major has become less sporting event than aspirational brand.
The final grand slam tournament of the season, which concludes Sunday with a mouth-watering men’s final between Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz, has never completely shied from its tony roots as part of the New York “social season”, but its latest evolution has taken it past a major sporting event into a festival economy. The sport is still there – highlight-reel shots, lung-busting rallies, after-midnight thrillers – but the real main draw are cocktails priced like small bond issues, influencer blocs in branded bucket hats and a dating show filmed courtside. The spectacle isn’t Sinner’s thunderbolt serve or Aryna Sabalenka’s power-baseline game but whether Chloe Malle is Anna Wintour’s plus-one or Kareem Rahma of Subway Takes posts his courtside selfie before or after the Honey Deuce runs dry. That libation, once just a cute themed lemonade and vodka in a souvenir cup, has mutated into an inflation-defying fetish object with its own merch line. Entire kiosks now sell Honey Deuce shirts and trucker hats in pastel colorways, so you can broadcast your melon-ball allegiance long after the hard-won hangover fades. It’s less a drink than a franchise, an alcoholic Funko Pop, proof that you didn’t just attend the Open: you consumed it, posted it, stacked it, wore it and recycled it into personal branding.