The Existential Void of the Pop-Up ‘Experience’

I went to as many Instagramable “museums,” “factories” and “mansions” as I could. They nearly broke me.

A “champagne bubble” ball pit at the Rosé Mansion. Photo: Amy Lombard for The New York Times

One evening this summer I left work around 6, ducked into a storefront in midtown Manhattan and stood at the back of a line, waiting to become myself. I was at the threshold of the Rosé Mansion, a pop-up “experience” that is themed around pink wine but promises much more. I had been beckoned there by an Instagram ad featuring a woman with heart-shaped glasses on her face and a plastic cup in her hand. “Be fiercely and uniquely yourself at Rosé Mansion,” it said.

What I am at the Rosé Mansion is, mostly, standing around. Though a friend and I had $45 tickets to enter the manse at 6:30 p.m., we were moored in its sweaty lobby for another half-hour, left to stare at the “ROOFTOPS AND ROSÉ” pink tanks on display in the gift shop until a Rosé Mansion “ambassador” unhooked the velvet rope to unleash us and dozens of other patrons into the space.

At the Rosé Mansion, guests may find themselves spending a lot of time waiting. Photo: Amy Lombard for The New York Times