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The Wing Is a Women’s Utopia. Unless You Work There.	The Wing Is a Women’s Utopia. Unless You Work There.
2020-05-08 08:22:14 UTC	2020-06-12 21:02:41 UTC (about 1 month later)
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The idea was born in a Starbucks bathroom. Audrey Gelman, then a 28-year-old public-relations savant and New York personality, was tired of dashing between meetings in New York and Washington, charging her phone in hotel lobbies and freshening up in the public restrooms of fast-casual chains. She envisioned a kind of feminine pit stop she would call Refresh — a private club where women could blow their hair out and check their email in comfort and peace.	The idea was born in a Starbucks bathroom. Audrey Gelman, then a 28-year-old public-relations savant and New York personality, was tired of dashing between meetings in New York and Washington, charging her phone in hotel lobbies and freshening up in the public restrooms of fast-casual chains. She envisioned a kind of feminine pit stop she would call Refresh — a private club where women could blow their hair out and check their email in comfort and peace.
	[Update: Audrey Gelman steps down as CEO of the Wing.]
But in time, Gelman’s aspirations widened. She realized, she told The New York Observer in 2016, that carving out space for women was a “subtly radical” idea. Gelman partnered with Lauren Kassan, a 28-year-old director of business development at the fitness start-up ClassPass. They began plotting the club’s first location: a bright penthouse in New York’s Flatiron district along a historic stretch known as the Ladies’ Mile, where, in the late 19th and beginning of the 20th century, upscale women could be seen shopping unchaperoned. They enlisted the historian Alexis Coe to research early American women’s clubs and traced a line between those efforts and their own. When the club opened its doors in October 2016 — under a new name, the Wing — they styled it as “a place for women on their way.” In its final form, Gelman said on the Recode podcast last year, the Wing is intended as a “women’s utopia.”	But in time, Gelman’s aspirations widened. She realized, she told The New York Observer in 2016, that carving out space for women was a “subtly radical” idea. Gelman partnered with Lauren Kassan, a 28-year-old director of business development at the fitness start-up ClassPass. They began plotting the club’s first location: a bright penthouse in New York’s Flatiron district along a historic stretch known as the Ladies’ Mile, where, in the late 19th and beginning of the 20th century, upscale women could be seen shopping unchaperoned. They enlisted the historian Alexis Coe to research early American women’s clubs and traced a line between those efforts and their own. When the club opened its doors in October 2016 — under a new name, the Wing — they styled it as “a place for women on their way.” In its final form, Gelman said on the Recode podcast last year, the Wing is intended as a “women’s utopia.”
Stepping into a Wing location feels a little like being sealed inside a pop-feminist Biodome. It is pitched as a social experiment: what the world would look like if it were designed by and for women, or at least millennial women with meaningful employment and a cultivated Instagram aesthetic. The Wing looks beautiful and expensive, with curvy pink interiors that recall the womb. The thermostat hovers around 72 degrees, to satisfy women’s higher temperature needs. A color-coded library features books by female authors only. There are well-appointed pump rooms, as well as private phone booths named after Lisa Simpson, Anita Hill and Lady Macbeth. There is an in-house cafe, the Perch, serving wines sourced from female vintners, and an in-house babysitting annex, the Little Wing, where members’ children may be looked after. The vibe is a fusion of sisterly inclusion and exclusive luxury: Private memberships run up to $3,000 per year, and the wait-list is 9,000 names long.	Stepping into a Wing location feels a little like being sealed inside a pop-feminist Biodome. It is pitched as a social experiment: what the world would look like if it were designed by and for women, or at least millennial women with meaningful employment and a cultivated Instagram aesthetic. The Wing looks beautiful and expensive, with curvy pink interiors that recall the womb. The thermostat hovers around 72 degrees, to satisfy women’s higher temperature needs. A color-coded library features books by female authors only. There are well-appointed pump rooms, as well as private phone booths named after Lisa Simpson, Anita Hill and Lady Macbeth. There is an in-house cafe, the Perch, serving wines sourced from female vintners, and an in-house babysitting annex, the Little Wing, where members’ children may be looked after. The vibe is a fusion of sisterly inclusion and exclusive luxury: Private memberships run up to $3,000 per year, and the wait-list is 9,000 names long.
But the Wing’s real draw is the women who gather within. Wing members — there are now around 12,000 — call themselves “Wing women” or “sistren” or “Winglets.” Among them are actress and model Hari Nef; the Women’s March co-founder Linda Sarsour; social media influencers; C.E.O.s; best-selling authors. (Multiple employees of The New York Times, including of this magazine, are Wing members.) When Gelman sent an email inviting an intimate crew of women to join the Wing as “founding members” in summer 2016, she announced a new echelon of New York elite. The club’s grand opening was styled as a slumber party, where women who made the cut wore luxe white pajamas, sampled face masks and staged a pillow fight. Gelman is the Wing’s chief executive but also the avatar of its ideal member: a meticulously fashionable, intensely driven woman who has managed to make her mark in the world in a way that strives to uplift other women at the same time.	But the Wing’s real draw is the women who gather within. Wing members — there are now around 12,000 — call themselves “Wing women” or “sistren” or “Winglets.” Among them are actress and model Hari Nef; the Women’s March co-founder Linda Sarsour; social media influencers; C.E.O.s; best-selling authors. (Multiple employees of The New York Times, including of this magazine, are Wing members.) When Gelman sent an email inviting an intimate crew of women to join the Wing as “founding members” in summer 2016, she announced a new echelon of New York elite. The club’s grand opening was styled as a slumber party, where women who made the cut wore luxe white pajamas, sampled face masks and staged a pillow fight. Gelman is the Wing’s chief executive but also the avatar of its ideal member: a meticulously fashionable, intensely driven woman who has managed to make her mark in the world in a way that strives to uplift other women at the same time.
The Wing has labeled itself a coven, not a sorority, and Winglets have found at the Wing business associates, friends, even wives: Two members who started a company together became engaged on its roof. Women have written books and launched companies at the Wing. The club’s sorbet-tinged interiors have become a coveted backdrop for female-focused public-relations efforts: The Wing is where Hillary Clinton was greeted like the victor in her post-campaign press tour, and where Jennifer Lopez dropped the news of her new skin-care line.	The Wing has labeled itself a coven, not a sorority, and Winglets have found at the Wing business associates, friends, even wives: Two members who started a company together became engaged on its roof. Women have written books and launched companies at the Wing. The club’s sorbet-tinged interiors have become a coveted backdrop for female-focused public-relations efforts: The Wing is where Hillary Clinton was greeted like the victor in her post-campaign press tour, and where Jennifer Lopez dropped the news of her new skin-care line.
In the three and a half years since the company’s inception, Wing locations have multiplied across New York and popped up in Boston, Chicago, London, West Hollywood, San Francisco and Georgetown. New clubs are set to open in Toronto and Seattle this year; Vogue ran a feature on Gelman and Kassan scouting spaces in Paris. The Wing’s ascent is fueled by more than $100 million in funding from venture capitalists and stakeholders including Mindy Kaling, Valerie Jarrett and Megan Rapinoe.	In the three and a half years since the company’s inception, Wing locations have multiplied across New York and popped up in Boston, Chicago, London, West Hollywood, San Francisco and Georgetown. New clubs are set to open in Toronto and Seattle this year; Vogue ran a feature on Gelman and Kassan scouting spaces in Paris. The Wing’s ascent is fueled by more than $100 million in funding from venture capitalists and stakeholders including Mindy Kaling, Valerie Jarrett and Megan Rapinoe.
The very fact of the Wing’s existence has been heralded — by Teen Vogue, by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and especially by the Wing itself — as a beacon, a pioneering capitalist model that could help improve the station of women everywhere. When Gelman appeared on the cover of Inc.’s “Female Founders 100” issue last year, she was the first visibly pregnant C.E.O. to front a business magazine. Last year, the company took out an ad in The New York Times’s sports section advocating for members of the U.S. women’s soccer team, who had sued the sport’s governing body claiming gender discrimination. Styled like a suffragist broadsheet, it read: “Equal pay isn’t a game.” In 2018, the Wing introduced a scholarship program that extended free memberships to people working for the “advancement of women and girls,” gave health benefits to the clubs’ hourly workers and promised “long-term, well-paying job opportunities” within the organization. Forty percent of its executives are now women of color. As Gelman told Fast Company, “We want our mission to not only be expressed through our brand but through our internal policies.”	The very fact of the Wing’s existence has been heralded — by Teen Vogue, by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and especially by the Wing itself — as a beacon, a pioneering capitalist model that could help improve the station of women everywhere. When Gelman appeared on the cover of Inc.’s “Female Founders 100” issue last year, she was the first visibly pregnant C.E.O. to front a business magazine. Last year, the company took out an ad in The New York Times’s sports section advocating for members of the U.S. women’s soccer team, who had sued the sport’s governing body claiming gender discrimination. Styled like a suffragist broadsheet, it read: “Equal pay isn’t a game.” In 2018, the Wing introduced a scholarship program that extended free memberships to people working for the “advancement of women and girls,” gave health benefits to the clubs’ hourly workers and promised “long-term, well-paying job opportunities” within the organization. Forty percent of its executives are now women of color. As Gelman told Fast Company, “We want our mission to not only be expressed through our brand but through our internal policies.”
The promise of a feminist workplace has drawn hundreds of bright and ambitious women to seek employment at the Wing, eager to work in beautiful spaces and in the company of women. “It was a pink penthouse in the sky,” says Raichelle Carter, a chef who worked in the Flatiron outpost of the Perch last year, recalling her first impression of the place. “Butterflies, rainbows, everybody working in unison.” Only later did she and many of her colleagues come to think that the Wing’s utopia was built to empower a very particular kind of woman; that it was in fact their job to construct the shimmering mirage of feminism for such women; and that it was routine for women like them to be undermined in the company’s pursuit of feminist P.R. It was “a total facade,” Carter says. “It’s just like any other company that wants to make their money.”	The promise of a feminist workplace has drawn hundreds of bright and ambitious women to seek employment at the Wing, eager to work in beautiful spaces and in the company of women. “It was a pink penthouse in the sky,” says Raichelle Carter, a chef who worked in the Flatiron outpost of the Perch last year, recalling her first impression of the place. “Butterflies, rainbows, everybody working in unison.” Only later did she and many of her colleagues come to think that the Wing’s utopia was built to empower a very particular kind of woman; that it was in fact their job to construct the shimmering mirage of feminism for such women; and that it was routine for women like them to be undermined in the company’s pursuit of feminist P.R. It was “a total facade,” Carter says. “It’s just like any other company that wants to make their money.”
Luxury and feminism have long been intertwined. Virginia Woolf’s 1929 book “A Room of One’s Own” — a Wing philosophical touchstone — didn’t argue for just any old room. Woolf wanted women to have access to “deep armchairs,” “pleasant carpets” and opulently catered luncheons presented by servants on silver trays, to bask in the “urbanity, the geniality, the dignity which are the offspring of luxury and privacy and space.” She imbued amenities with the capacity to ease sexist affronts. With the spoils of wealth on her side, she wrote, “I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me.” Generations later, the second-wave feminist Ellen Willis came at the argument from a new perspective, mounting a practical defense of female materialism. “The profusion of commodities is a genuine and powerful compensation for oppression,” Willis wrote. “It is a bribe, but like all bribes it offers concrete benefits.” She added, “For women, buying and wearing clothes and beauty aids is not so much consumption as work.”	Luxury and feminism have long been intertwined. Virginia Woolf’s 1929 book “A Room of One’s Own” — a Wing philosophical touchstone — didn’t argue for just any old room. Woolf wanted women to have access to “deep armchairs,” “pleasant carpets” and opulently catered luncheons presented by servants on silver trays, to bask in the “urbanity, the geniality, the dignity which are the offspring of luxury and privacy and space.” She imbued amenities with the capacity to ease sexist affronts. With the spoils of wealth on her side, she wrote, “I need not hate any man; he cannot hurt me.” Generations later, the second-wave feminist Ellen Willis came at the argument from a new perspective, mounting a practical defense of female materialism. “The profusion of commodities is a genuine and powerful compensation for oppression,” Willis wrote. “It is a bribe, but like all bribes it offers concrete benefits.” She added, “For women, buying and wearing clothes and beauty aids is not so much consumption as work.”
If in the 1960s a segment of the feminist movement was concerned with advancing women in the work force, that impulse has now been so thoroughly individualized that a woman’s career can be cast as a kind of feminist statement in and of itself. In this mode, consumer luxuries take on a feminist valence too, signifying power and the mechanism for accruing more. The Wing’s merchandise — key chains that read “girls doing whatever the [expletive] they want,” tote bags that say “TAKING UP SPACE,” socks that read “PAY ME” — invite members and nonmembers alike to telegraph that feminized mode of ambition, coyly aestheticizing the kind of entitlement that comes so easily to many men.	If in the 1960s a segment of the feminist movement was concerned with advancing women in the work force, that impulse has now been so thoroughly individualized that a woman’s career can be cast as a kind of feminist statement in and of itself. In this mode, consumer luxuries take on a feminist valence too, signifying power and the mechanism for accruing more. The Wing’s merchandise — key chains that read “girls doing whatever the [expletive] they want,” tote bags that say “TAKING UP SPACE,” socks that read “PAY ME” — invite members and nonmembers alike to telegraph that feminized mode of ambition, coyly aestheticizing the kind of entitlement that comes so easily to many men.
At the very least, the stuff makes you feel good. The Perch’s “Virgin Woolf” mocktail is refreshing; the water pressure from the Wing shower head is reassuringly firm. At the Wing, comfort itself can represent a kind of progress. As Gelman once put it on Instagram: “Women go through their lives taking care of everyone & everything, and there is deep relief in entering any tangible space where someone is finally taking care of you.”	At the very least, the stuff makes you feel good. The Perch’s “Virgin Woolf” mocktail is refreshing; the water pressure from the Wing shower head is reassuringly firm. At the Wing, comfort itself can represent a kind of progress. As Gelman once put it on Instagram: “Women go through their lives taking care of everyone & everything, and there is deep relief in entering any tangible space where someone is finally taking care of you.”
The union between feminism and marketing is the consummation of a long relationship. In the 1970s, Ms. Magazine influenced corporations to scrap their sexist ads in favor of feminist-themed pitches, but today it is the branders themselves who are hailed as feminist icons. In Gelman, feminism has one of New York’s most charming and relentless flacks on its side. When the socialist It Girls of the “Red Scare” podcast ribbed the Wing for its bourgeois sensibility, Gelman worked to change their minds, making herself a T-shirt that said “Frenemy of the Pod,” showing up at a live taping and posing next to one of the hosts making the universal sign for cunnilingus. Gelman is not just the face of her own company but also a kind of executive influencer whose currency as a female C.E.O. is used to brush other products with a touch of feminism. In 2017 she appeared in a spot for Chanel fine jewelry in which she flexes her arms and advises, “Be empowered”; last year she starred in an ad for Air France in which she reclines in a roomy business-class seat. “I’m a C.E.O.,” she informs the “guys” who dominate the class. “Hey, I belong here, too.”	The union between feminism and marketing is the consummation of a long relationship. In the 1970s, Ms. Magazine influenced corporations to scrap their sexist ads in favor of feminist-themed pitches, but today it is the branders themselves who are hailed as feminist icons. In Gelman, feminism has one of New York’s most charming and relentless flacks on its side. When the socialist It Girls of the “Red Scare” podcast ribbed the Wing for its bourgeois sensibility, Gelman worked to change their minds, making herself a T-shirt that said “Frenemy of the Pod,” showing up at a live taping and posing next to one of the hosts making the universal sign for cunnilingus. Gelman is not just the face of her own company but also a kind of executive influencer whose currency as a female C.E.O. is used to brush other products with a touch of feminism. In 2017 she appeared in a spot for Chanel fine jewelry in which she flexes her arms and advises, “Be empowered”; last year she starred in an ad for Air France in which she reclines in a roomy business-class seat. “I’m a C.E.O.,” she informs the “guys” who dominate the class. “Hey, I belong here, too.”
Though the Wing’s motto is “empowering women through community,” it also builds marketing relationships, plugging companies like American Express, Land Rover and Amazon Prime into its ready-made feminist branding apparatus. These companies are eager to seed the Wing with their swag and minister to well-connected members at sponsored events, images of which percolate across Instagram like modern infomercials. The place is an influence machine: Wing members effectively pay to advertise products to other women in front of the club’s feminine backdrops, and along the way, burnish their own brand power too.	Though the Wing’s motto is “empowering women through community,” it also builds marketing relationships, plugging companies like American Express, Land Rover and Amazon Prime into its ready-made feminist branding apparatus. These companies are eager to seed the Wing with their swag and minister to well-connected members at sponsored events, images of which percolate across Instagram like modern infomercials. The place is an influence machine: Wing members effectively pay to advertise products to other women in front of the club’s feminine backdrops, and along the way, burnish their own brand power too.
The Wing was conceived amid great expectations for the Hillary Clinton presidency, but it was her defeat that sharpened the company’s sense of mission. As Trump ascended to the White House, and sexual harassers were unmasked at workplaces across the country, the concept of the women’s-only club was elevated from luxury to necessity. Members who joined for a refuge from public bathrooms were now also claiming refuge from the patriarchy. The absence of men and the presence of fine amenities became a salve for the traumas experienced by women as a class. Gelman began to speak about a Wing membership as analogous to political agitation. The news of the day might be dispiriting for women, Gelman told Entrepreneur magazine, “but to see women coming together and fighting back and organizing — whether through the Women’s March or in support of organizations like the Wing — that’s the silver lining to all of this.”	The Wing was conceived amid great expectations for the Hillary Clinton presidency, but it was her defeat that sharpened the company’s sense of mission. As Trump ascended to the White House, and sexual harassers were unmasked at workplaces across the country, the concept of the women’s-only club was elevated from luxury to necessity. Members who joined for a refuge from public bathrooms were now also claiming refuge from the patriarchy. The absence of men and the presence of fine amenities became a salve for the traumas experienced by women as a class. Gelman began to speak about a Wing membership as analogous to political agitation. The news of the day might be dispiriting for women, Gelman told Entrepreneur magazine, “but to see women coming together and fighting back and organizing — whether through the Women’s March or in support of organizations like the Wing — that’s the silver lining to all of this.”
Like the women’s clubs, consciousness-raising groups, feminist bookstores and lesbian separatist womyn’s lands that came before it, the Wing’s organizing structure gestures at radical potential. When women convene together in the absence of men, the argument goes, they can psychically recharge, compare notes on the patriarchy and define new political priorities. In the summer of 2018, Gelman threw the congressional candidate Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez a fund-raiser after her surprise victory in a Democratic primary. On Instagram, the pair could be seen on Gelman’s patio in matching button-down shirts and round wire-framed glasses. Later an endorsement from Ocasio-Cortez popped up on the Wing’s website: “The Wing isn’t just a functional space, it’s a real symbol of what’s opening in our country. [It’s] one of the most potent forces that we’ve seen emerge in politics this year.”	Like the women’s clubs, consciousness-raising groups, feminist bookstores and lesbian separatist womyn’s lands that came before it, the Wing’s organizing structure gestures at radical potential. When women convene together in the absence of men, the argument goes, they can psychically recharge, compare notes on the patriarchy and define new political priorities. In the summer of 2018, Gelman threw the congressional candidate Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez a fund-raiser after her surprise victory in a Democratic primary. On Instagram, the pair could be seen on Gelman’s patio in matching button-down shirts and round wire-framed glasses. Later an endorsement from Ocasio-Cortez popped up on the Wing’s website: “The Wing isn’t just a functional space, it’s a real symbol of what’s opening in our country. [It’s] one of the most potent forces that we’ve seen emerge in politics this year.”
The Wing’s feminism thrives on the impression of societal progress projected by its brand. Every Wing offering — its Little Wing babysitting, its inclusive range of hair-care products, its “Motherhood on the Move” partnership with Medela, a company known for its breast pumps — is pitched as a public good. The amenities may be available only to paying members, but they are promoted symbolically to women at large. In fact, the Wing’s political offerings are expansive to the point of incoherence. In its in-house magazine, No Man’s Land, the Wing featured the whistle-blower and member Chelsea Manning; at its Georgetown space, it celebrated the women of the C.I.A. in partnership with the Showtime series “Homeland.”	The Wing’s feminism thrives on the impression of societal progress projected by its brand. Every Wing offering — its Little Wing babysitting, its inclusive range of hair-care products, its “Motherhood on the Move” partnership with Medela, a company known for its breast pumps — is pitched as a public good. The amenities may be available only to paying members, but they are promoted symbolically to women at large. In fact, the Wing’s political offerings are expansive to the point of incoherence. In its in-house magazine, No Man’s Land, the Wing featured the whistle-blower and member Chelsea Manning; at its Georgetown space, it celebrated the women of the C.I.A. in partnership with the Showtime series “Homeland.”
Women represent both a consumer demographic and a political constituency, and the wires of politics and consumption are easily crossed. At the Wing, progressive politics themselves are recast as one more luxury product — something to be worn rather than enacted. Its programming can feel like a self-affirming simulation of political engagement. After Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court confirmation hearing, the Wing’s San Francisco outpost emblazoned Christine Blasey Ford’s name onto a conference room; Valerie Jarrett and others stopped for selfies in front of the door, as if compensating for the loss of judicial power with a ticket to a feminist Instagram museum. In February, as the Iowa Caucuses unfolded, the Wing staged its own “caucus” in which members role-played exercising their civic duty. Gelman stumped passionately for Bernie Sanders, but Elizabeth Warren swept fictional “Wing County.” It would be the only 2020 contest she would win.	Women represent both a consumer demographic and a political constituency, and the wires of politics and consumption are easily crossed. At the Wing, progressive politics themselves are recast as one more luxury product — something to be worn rather than enacted. Its programming can feel like a self-affirming simulation of political engagement. After Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court confirmation hearing, the Wing’s San Francisco outpost emblazoned Christine Blasey Ford’s name onto a conference room; Valerie Jarrett and others stopped for selfies in front of the door, as if compensating for the loss of judicial power with a ticket to a feminist Instagram museum. In February, as the Iowa Caucuses unfolded, the Wing staged its own “caucus” in which members role-played exercising their civic duty. Gelman stumped passionately for Bernie Sanders, but Elizabeth Warren swept fictional “Wing County.” It would be the only 2020 contest she would win.
In February 2018, the Wing opened its first Brooklyn location, an expansive space in Dumbo with a sunken velvet conversation pit, Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face etched into pink wallpaper and a golden welcome note embedded in the floor that read: “YOU HAVE ARRIVED.” On many days, perched behind the curved wooden front desk was Vei Darling.	In February 2018, the Wing opened its first Brooklyn location, an expansive space in Dumbo with a sunken velvet conversation pit, Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face etched into pink wallpaper and a golden welcome note embedded in the floor that read: “YOU HAVE ARRIVED.” On many days, perched behind the curved wooden front desk was Vei Darling.
When Darling, who uses the pronoun “they,” joined the Wing, they had just come off a couple of service jobs at workplaces dominated by men, and thought a women-only space sounded like the place to be. But when Darling arrived in the sprawling SoHo location for an interview, they were not so sure they fit in. The crowd seemed very white; everybody looked rich. But Darling was assured that they were exactly the kind of person the Wing was looking for: a first-generation Liberian-American with a striking, pasteled online presence who was cultivating their own business as a professional witch incorporating Tarot and astrology. Within months, they were drafted to model shirts that read “THE JOY OF SISTERHOOD” and “EXTREME SELF-CARE” on the Wing’s website.	When Darling, who uses the pronoun “they,” joined the Wing, they had just come off a couple of service jobs at workplaces dominated by men, and thought a women-only space sounded like the place to be. But when Darling arrived in the sprawling SoHo location for an interview, they were not so sure they fit in. The crowd seemed very white; everybody looked rich. But Darling was assured that they were exactly the kind of person the Wing was looking for: a first-generation Liberian-American with a striking, pasteled online presence who was cultivating their own business as a professional witch incorporating Tarot and astrology. Within months, they were drafted to model shirts that read “THE JOY OF SISTERHOOD” and “EXTREME SELF-CARE” on the Wing’s website.
But after working there for a year and a half, Darling came to understand that their true value to the company was different from what they had first imagined. “It was only so that they could exploit my presence and my image for their own purposes,” they say, “to make it seem like they were more inclusive than they actually were.” In June 2019, when Dumbo employees were paid several days late, Darling wrote an email copied to Gelman and Kassan describing what Darling and their colleagues felt was “a toxic culture” of “passive aggression,” “disrespect” and “fear of retribution.” Wing employees “don’t get paid enough for our immense physical, intellectual and emotional labor,” Darling wrote. (A Wing spokeswoman said the company couldn’t comment on most specific personnel matters, but in this case said Gelman offered to meet with Darling.)	But after working there for a year and a half, Darling came to understand that their true value to the company was different from what they had first imagined. “It was only so that they could exploit my presence and my image for their own purposes,” they say, “to make it seem like they were more inclusive than they actually were.” In June 2019, when Dumbo employees were paid several days late, Darling wrote an email copied to Gelman and Kassan describing what Darling and their colleagues felt was “a toxic culture” of “passive aggression,” “disrespect” and “fear of retribution.” Wing employees “don’t get paid enough for our immense physical, intellectual and emotional labor,” Darling wrote. (A Wing spokeswoman said the company couldn’t comment on most specific personnel matters, but in this case said Gelman offered to meet with Darling.)
By the time Darling left, they had come to feel that the Wing’s political branding was cynical. “It makes feminism a cool club that you can join as opposed to a social necessity,” Darling says. From their perspective, Winglets could assure themselves: “I’m a member of this all-women’s social club, so I’ve paid my dues — literally.”	By the time Darling left, they had come to feel that the Wing’s political branding was cynical. “It makes feminism a cool club that you can join as opposed to a social necessity,” Darling says. From their perspective, Winglets could assure themselves: “I’m a member of this all-women’s social club, so I’ve paid my dues — literally.”
In interviews with 26 current and former Wing employees, people who have worked in Wing headquarters and in spaces across the United States in jobs that range from cooking and cleaning to management, most told a similar story of excitement about their new workplace curdling into anxiety and disgust. (Many — citing fear of losing their jobs, of being sued over breaking the nondisparagement clause in their employment contract or of retribution from the Wing’s powerful professional network — agreed to speak only on the condition of anonymity.)	In interviews with 26 current and former Wing employees, people who have worked in Wing headquarters and in spaces across the United States in jobs that range from cooking and cleaning to management, most told a similar story of excitement about their new workplace curdling into anxiety and disgust. (Many — citing fear of losing their jobs, of being sued over breaking the nondisparagement clause in their employment contract or of retribution from the Wing’s powerful professional network — agreed to speak only on the condition of anonymity.)
At first, these women say, they were relieved to have landed at a company built by women, one that seemed to leverage their expertise behind the barista counter or in corporate management in service to a larger mission. Most Wing employees I spoke with had ambitions bigger than their starting positions; the job planted them tantalizingly close to their passions. They were granted membership privileges, with access to the beauty rooms and the lending libraries, and they mingled with actors, magazine editors, political operatives, Gelman herself. The pitch to incoming staff members emphasized the grand opportunities afforded by the space. “These are the people that are going to hire you for your next job,” A.C. Smallwood, who worked at the front desk in the Flatiron location, remembers being told about the members. “These are the people that are going to invest in your start-up.”	At first, these women say, they were relieved to have landed at a company built by women, one that seemed to leverage their expertise behind the barista counter or in corporate management in service to a larger mission. Most Wing employees I spoke with had ambitions bigger than their starting positions; the job planted them tantalizingly close to their passions. They were granted membership privileges, with access to the beauty rooms and the lending libraries, and they mingled with actors, magazine editors, political operatives, Gelman herself. The pitch to incoming staff members emphasized the grand opportunities afforded by the space. “These are the people that are going to hire you for your next job,” A.C. Smallwood, who worked at the front desk in the Flatiron location, remembers being told about the members. “These are the people that are going to invest in your start-up.”
But soon they became disillusioned. Some staff members hired to work the front desk or run events saw their job duties inflated to include scrubbing toilets, washing dishes and lint-rolling couches. As the company rapidly expanded and new members flooded into crowded spaces, a chasm opened between members and the staff. While some members had friendly or unremarkable interactions with the employees, others seemed to hold them personally responsible for delivering on the brand’s promise of feminist entitlement. “I was the connector, the friend, the therapist, the mother, the sister, the live-in coach,” one former employee says. “I was treated like a human kitty-litter box.” Another says: “We were ‘the help.’” When staff members tried to exercise their membership privileges, on breaks or after their shifts, members would hand them dirty dishes or barge in on them in the phone booth. Some screamed at employees about crowding in the space and cried over insufficient swag. A common member refrain was that it was anti-feminist not to give her whatever perk she desired.	But soon they became disillusioned. Some staff members hired to work the front desk or run events saw their job duties inflated to include scrubbing toilets, washing dishes and lint-rolling couches. As the company rapidly expanded and new members flooded into crowded spaces, a chasm opened between members and the staff. While some members had friendly or unremarkable interactions with the employees, others seemed to hold them personally responsible for delivering on the brand’s promise of feminist entitlement. “I was the connector, the friend, the therapist, the mother, the sister, the live-in coach,” one former employee says. “I was treated like a human kitty-litter box.” Another says: “We were ‘the help.’” When staff members tried to exercise their membership privileges, on breaks or after their shifts, members would hand them dirty dishes or barge in on them in the phone booth. Some screamed at employees about crowding in the space and cried over insufficient swag. A common member refrain was that it was anti-feminist not to give her whatever perk she desired.
Despite the impression of diversity promoted on the Wing’s Instagram feed, employees working events could find themselves to be the only black women in the room. Members and their guests could be casually racist. One eyed a photo board of Wing employees and remarked, “There’s a lot of colored girls that work here.” Another overheard some local teenage girls, who had been invited to the Wing for an event, speaking in Spanish, and complained that they were ridiculing her. (The member said she herself did not understand the language.) At one community event, planned at the suggestion of a friend of Gelman’s, black employees served a crew of redheads as they discussed the societal woes of gingers. According to two employees who were present, the women demanded a total of 18 free bottles of wine and stayed past the club’s closing time. When a staff member asked them to leave, one redhead called her a bitch. Luxury products were missing from the beauty room after they left. Employees observed few consequences for this kind of behavior. “It was always members first,” Raichelle Carter says.	Despite the impression of diversity promoted on the Wing’s Instagram feed, employees working events could find themselves to be the only black women in the room. Members and their guests could be casually racist. One eyed a photo board of Wing employees and remarked, “There’s a lot of colored girls that work here.” Another overheard some local teenage girls, who had been invited to the Wing for an event, speaking in Spanish, and complained that they were ridiculing her. (The member said she herself did not understand the language.) At one community event, planned at the suggestion of a friend of Gelman’s, black employees served a crew of redheads as they discussed the societal woes of gingers. According to two employees who were present, the women demanded a total of 18 free bottles of wine and stayed past the club’s closing time. When a staff member asked them to leave, one redhead called her a bitch. Luxury products were missing from the beauty room after they left. Employees observed few consequences for this kind of behavior. “It was always members first,” Raichelle Carter says.
At the same time, employees found their own promised empowerment elusive. They described tumultuous turnover. Opportunities for growth could be dangled and then dropped without explanation. “I’ve been made to feel small, insignificant, stupid,” one employee says. “This is a place for ‘women on their way,’ unless you work at the Wing.” Maya Sari Ahmed, who worked as a design director in Wing headquarters, says she was chastised by a manager after sharing with her team that she’d had a psychotic episode. She says she was told that she was creating an unstable work environment, even as she worked to produce Wing stickers that read “WOMEN SUPPORTING WOMEN SUPPORTING WOMEN.” (The Wing spokeswoman said the company provides mental health benefits to all its employees.)	At the same time, employees found their own promised empowerment elusive. They described tumultuous turnover. Opportunities for growth could be dangled and then dropped without explanation. “I’ve been made to feel small, insignificant, stupid,” one employee says. “This is a place for ‘women on their way,’ unless you work at the Wing.” Maya Sari Ahmed, who worked as a design director in Wing headquarters, says she was chastised by a manager after sharing with her team that she’d had a psychotic episode. She says she was told that she was creating an unstable work environment, even as she worked to produce Wing stickers that read “WOMEN SUPPORTING WOMEN SUPPORTING WOMEN.” (The Wing spokeswoman said the company provides mental health benefits to all its employees.)
Salaried Wing employees often worked punishingly long days without overtime pay, but hourly Wing employees, whose pay currently starts at $16.50 in New York clubs, could have trouble being consistently approved for enough shifts to support themselves. That is “not a living wage, especially not in New York City,” Darling wrote in an email to management. While working at the Wing, Darling snagged a free “Ladies Get Paid” tote from a Wing event hosted by a group that fights for equal pay, but, as they wrote in their email, “I have been so broke that I haven’t had money to even buy food.” Tips from the Perch were distributed among the staff, but Wing members tended to be poor tippers. A version of the Perch menu reassured them that “the Wing provides equitable, living wages to all of our employees, front- and back-of-house alike.” (The Wing spokeswoman said that the company has always “maintained employment best practices.”)	Salaried Wing employees often worked punishingly long days without overtime pay, but hourly Wing employees, whose pay currently starts at $16.50 in New York clubs, could have trouble being consistently approved for enough shifts to support themselves. That is “not a living wage, especially not in New York City,” Darling wrote in an email to management. While working at the Wing, Darling snagged a free “Ladies Get Paid” tote from a Wing event hosted by a group that fights for equal pay, but, as they wrote in their email, “I have been so broke that I haven’t had money to even buy food.” Tips from the Perch were distributed among the staff, but Wing members tended to be poor tippers. A version of the Perch menu reassured them that “the Wing provides equitable, living wages to all of our employees, front- and back-of-house alike.” (The Wing spokeswoman said that the company has always “maintained employment best practices.”)
Through all of this, some of these very same Wing employees could be seen on Instagram, grinning from the Perch or gladly pouring lattes in Wing-logo shirts. “You learn the game very quickly with the Wing,” one former employee says. “As long as everything looks Instagram-ready, we’re good.” An enticing visual presentation — owning clever accessories, wearing a cute outfit, maintaining an attractive side hustle — was seen as a plus. Staff members noticed that Gelman was drawn to such women.	Through all of this, some of these very same Wing employees could be seen on Instagram, grinning from the Perch or gladly pouring lattes in Wing-logo shirts. “You learn the game very quickly with the Wing,” one former employee says. “As long as everything looks Instagram-ready, we’re good.” An enticing visual presentation — owning clever accessories, wearing a cute outfit, maintaining an attractive side hustle — was seen as a plus. Staff members noticed that Gelman was drawn to such women.
The drive for perfection created “a culture of fear and secrecy,” one former employee says. Until recently, Wing values posted in the spaces reminded employees that a requirement of the job was to act in a “utopian” manner. Each club sent a daily report to executives, but employees learned to avoid flagging problems, sensing that the leadership treated every surface flaw as a disaster. During an extended bout of construction on the SoHo space, the ceiling cracked and leaked, and while employees were told to stop alerting higher-ups to the problem, they say they were also expected to make it appear solved. Staff members placed buckets around the space during storms, but if Gelman was heading over with guests, they embarked on a vaudevillian routine of removing the buckets just in time for Gelman’s arrival and replacing them before a puddle had formed. “We used to call SoHo ‘the Rainforest Cafe,’” says Cass Alcide, a former community manager. Employees were instructed not to clean in front of members, lest they ruin the illusion. At the Wing, outside appearances could be obsessed over while internal feedback was stigmatized or ignored. “It was Gaslighting 101,” one employee says.	The drive for perfection created “a culture of fear and secrecy,” one former employee says. Until recently, Wing values posted in the spaces reminded employees that a requirement of the job was to act in a “utopian” manner. Each club sent a daily report to executives, but employees learned to avoid flagging problems, sensing that the leadership treated every surface flaw as a disaster. During an extended bout of construction on the SoHo space, the ceiling cracked and leaked, and while employees were told to stop alerting higher-ups to the problem, they say they were also expected to make it appear solved. Staff members placed buckets around the space during storms, but if Gelman was heading over with guests, they embarked on a vaudevillian routine of removing the buckets just in time for Gelman’s arrival and replacing them before a puddle had formed. “We used to call SoHo ‘the Rainforest Cafe,’” says Cass Alcide, a former community manager. Employees were instructed not to clean in front of members, lest they ruin the illusion. At the Wing, outside appearances could be obsessed over while internal feedback was stigmatized or ignored. “It was Gaslighting 101,” one employee says.
This incessant P.R. drive extended to the Wing’s internal communications. After the New York City Commission on Human Rights began an investigation into the Wing’s gender policy and a Washington man sued over being denied access to the club, the company instituted a policy of allowing men through its doors. But when the leadership announced the change to staff members, they framed the new guidelines as an effort to generously school its community on inclusiveness toward nonbinary and trans members. “It was worded like someone had just skimmed the Wikipedia for Judith Butler,” a former employee says. But soon the real impact of the policy became clear, as men entered the spaces, tagging along with their girlfriends and colonizing the phone booths.	This incessant P.R. drive extended to the Wing’s internal communications. After the New York City Commission on Human Rights began an investigation into the Wing’s gender policy and a Washington man sued over being denied access to the club, the company instituted a policy of allowing men through its doors. But when the leadership announced the change to staff members, they framed the new guidelines as an effort to generously school its community on inclusiveness toward nonbinary and trans members. “It was worded like someone had just skimmed the Wikipedia for Judith Butler,” a former employee says. But soon the real impact of the policy became clear, as men entered the spaces, tagging along with their girlfriends and colonizing the phone booths.
Last summer, issues of race at the Wing came under public scrutiny. A black member wrote on Instagram that despite the West Hollywood location’s “private call booth named after Moesha,” a ’90s sitcom character, she had found the Wing to be a “majority-white capitalist co-working space.” She and a guest, she wrote, had been “harassed” by a white woman “over a parking space.” Employees had been flagging similar incidents for years, but the member’s post had garnered press attention. The Wing convened meetings where members and employees could discuss racial tensions. “People were emotionally vulnerable at the community gatherings on race,” an employee says. But not much seemed to change. “It felt like people opened up for no reason.”	Last summer, issues of race at the Wing came under public scrutiny. A black member wrote on Instagram that despite the West Hollywood location’s “private call booth named after Moesha,” a ’90s sitcom character, she had found the Wing to be a “majority-white capitalist co-working space.” She and a guest, she wrote, had been “harassed” by a white woman “over a parking space.” Employees had been flagging similar incidents for years, but the member’s post had garnered press attention. The Wing convened meetings where members and employees could discuss racial tensions. “People were emotionally vulnerable at the community gatherings on race,” an employee says. But not much seemed to change. “It felt like people opened up for no reason.”
The Wing’s culture, many employees said, originated at the top. Though Kassan had a more muted presence in the office, Gelman was described as particular and capricious. In 2018, Gelman arrived at the Dumbo space to host her younger sister’s bridal shower. Following the event, the employee working the front desk that day was unexpectedly removed from her perch and left to pick up cleaning duties, according to emails she sent to her managers. She detailed how her weekly hours had been drastically reduced without explanation. An H.R. rep finally informed her that she had been frozen out of shifts because, as the employee documented in an email to Gelman the next day, “you came in and felt like I didn’t know you, because I didn’t use your name when I welcomed you into the space.” In a partial recording of the meeting made by the employee, her manager confirmed that the change occurred because “Audrey made those remarks about how she thought you interacted with her.” (The Wing spokeswoman said, “As in any workplace, employees receive feedback and ways to improve.”)	The Wing’s culture, many employees said, originated at the top. Though Kassan had a more muted presence in the office, Gelman was described as particular and capricious. In 2018, Gelman arrived at the Dumbo space to host her younger sister’s bridal shower. Following the event, the employee working the front desk that day was unexpectedly removed from her perch and left to pick up cleaning duties, according to emails she sent to her managers. She detailed how her weekly hours had been drastically reduced without explanation. An H.R. rep finally informed her that she had been frozen out of shifts because, as the employee documented in an email to Gelman the next day, “you came in and felt like I didn’t know you, because I didn’t use your name when I welcomed you into the space.” In a partial recording of the meeting made by the employee, her manager confirmed that the change occurred because “Audrey made those remarks about how she thought you interacted with her.” (The Wing spokeswoman said, “As in any workplace, employees receive feedback and ways to improve.”)
Later that year, another employee who had attended the Ocasio-Cortez fund-raiser at Gelman’s home tweeted a note of discomfort about the radical-chic gathering. When Gelman spied it late at night over a weekend, she summoned her to her office the next Monday morning. The employee deleted the tweet and apologized, and Gelman responded benevolently. “Your intelligence and depth are beyond your years,” Gelman wrote the employee in an email. Of the Wing, she said: “I am honestly very down to hear your unvarnished opinions on it, and ideas you have to improve it and make it better. I really mean that.” But a few months later, when the employee emailed Gelman to ask about raising wages, and then began to inquire among staff about their working conditions, a Wing disciplinary write-up signed by Kassan rebuked the employee for “expressing negative views about an event at Audrey’s home,” “sending reactive emails directly to the C.E.O.” and “interrogating staff about their pay and benefits.” The employee was warned that the company wanted to see “a significant improvement” in her “impulsive and reactive behaviors” or face “corrective action up to and including termination.”	Later that year, another employee who had attended the Ocasio-Cortez fund-raiser at Gelman’s home tweeted a note of discomfort about the radical-chic gathering. When Gelman spied it late at night over a weekend, she summoned her to her office the next Monday morning. The employee deleted the tweet and apologized, and Gelman responded benevolently. “Your intelligence and depth are beyond your years,” Gelman wrote the employee in an email. Of the Wing, she said: “I am honestly very down to hear your unvarnished opinions on it, and ideas you have to improve it and make it better. I really mean that.” But a few months later, when the employee emailed Gelman to ask about raising wages, and then began to inquire among staff about their working conditions, a Wing disciplinary write-up signed by Kassan rebuked the employee for “expressing negative views about an event at Audrey’s home,” “sending reactive emails directly to the C.E.O.” and “interrogating staff about their pay and benefits.” The employee was warned that the company wanted to see “a significant improvement” in her “impulsive and reactive behaviors” or face “corrective action up to and including termination.”
Once, Gelman noticed a few dirty dishes in the beauty room of a club while Venus Williams was visiting the space, according to an employee who was working the event. She said Gelman shut the doors to the beauty room and raised her voice, saying a C.E.O. shouldn’t have to clean. The employee left rattled and crying. Two employees who were present in the club that day confirmed that the employee tearfully described the incident to them shortly after it happened. (The Wing spokeswoman denied that it occurred.) Last year, Gelman told the website the Cut that “the most fun I’ve had in the last few months” involved rolling up her sleeves and doing dishwashing shifts at the Wing. “She washed three dishes and Instagrammed it,” a former employee says.	Once, Gelman noticed a few dirty dishes in the beauty room of a club while Venus Williams was visiting the space, according to an employee who was working the event. She said Gelman shut the doors to the beauty room and raised her voice, saying a C.E.O. shouldn’t have to clean. The employee left rattled and crying. Two employees who were present in the club that day confirmed that the employee tearfully described the incident to them shortly after it happened. (The Wing spokeswoman denied that it occurred.) Last year, Gelman told the website the Cut that “the most fun I’ve had in the last few months” involved rolling up her sleeves and doing dishwashing shifts at the Wing. “She washed three dishes and Instagrammed it,” a former employee says.
On a recent Thursday morning, I followed a trail of curvy white W’s painted along a Williamsburg sidewalk up to the entrance of the Wing’s newest club. In the elevator, I witnessed a real-life Winglet meet-cute: One woman read auras for GOOP; the other made $45 soaps for GOOP; they bonded over a healer they both knew. An eager young Wing employee met me at the front desk, and then I headed into the pink belly of the club, where Audrey Gelman was waiting for me.	On a recent Thursday morning, I followed a trail of curvy white W’s painted along a Williamsburg sidewalk up to the entrance of the Wing’s newest club. In the elevator, I witnessed a real-life Winglet meet-cute: One woman read auras for GOOP; the other made $45 soaps for GOOP; they bonded over a healer they both knew. An eager young Wing employee met me at the front desk, and then I headed into the pink belly of the club, where Audrey Gelman was waiting for me.
Gelman wore a golden Wing necklace and an inviting smile. Flanked by the Wing’s senior vice president for operations and an outside public-relations professional, she listened to the accounts of her employees and nodded thoughtfully. Despite their intention to build a women’s utopia, she acknowledged, the ills of society at large had seeped in. “It’s hard to hear that people have had this experience,” she said. “These are familiar themes for us.” Every employee concern, she assured me, had already been incorporated into a sweeping business recalibration. Even as it expanded, the Wing was overhauling its organizational structure, raising wages, extending benefits and instituting a code of conduct for members which, if violated, could result in the “clipping of wings” — termination of membership.	Gelman wore a golden Wing necklace and an inviting smile. Flanked by the Wing’s senior vice president for operations and an outside public-relations professional, she listened to the accounts of her employees and nodded thoughtfully. Despite their intention to build a women’s utopia, she acknowledged, the ills of society at large had seeped in. “It’s hard to hear that people have had this experience,” she said. “These are familiar themes for us.” Every employee concern, she assured me, had already been incorporated into a sweeping business recalibration. Even as it expanded, the Wing was overhauling its organizational structure, raising wages, extending benefits and instituting a code of conduct for members which, if violated, could result in the “clipping of wings” — termination of membership.