Behind the Scenes With Sophie Rain, the Clean Queen of the Dirty Internet

The male gaze is strong at this Collins Avenue hotel’s Japanese-inspired rooftop restaurant. When the elevator doors open, there’s a 20-something guy in a backwards cap and a golf polo standing outside; as he spots Sophie Rain, who’s wearing a white crop top and matching microshorts and clutching a baby-pink Hermès Birkin bag, his eyes immediately go wide. For the 45 seconds or so it takes to get from there to a table on the open-air patio, multiple men do a double take as she passes. On this late weekday afternoon in Miami Beach, the place is disproportionately populated with dudes wearing bad suits or polo shirts with Gucci belts. “All the suit bros are up here,” Rain observes. Within minutes of us sitting down, a man dressed in an all-white shorts set comes up to our table and asks Rain in a low tone if they can exchange Instagrams. She gently declines.

When our waiter, who also seems to be in his 20s, arrives to take our drink orders, Rain already has her ID in hand, but when she proffers it with her order (a Prosecco yuzu spritz), he waves it away. “It’s okay,” he says, cordially. “You look old enough.” Rain—who has been of legal drinking age for several years now—tucks her ID back into her purse, murmuring something about how that literally never happens. She suggests a few things to share: edamame, crispy tuna rice, a crunchy spicy tuna roll. And then, before the waiter departs, she quickly makes an addition: “Actually, can I get truffle fries also?” She smiles and shrugs. “Truffle fries: You can’t pass them up.”