A Farewell Bathroom Flush: Saying Goodbye to REI SoHo

⏱️ 14 min read            

Today’s story takes us to downtown Manhattan, where an unlikely symbol of urban compassion is about to disappear — the REI store in SoHo. For more than a decade, it’s been known for selling hiking gear and camping supplies, but for many New Yorkers, its true claim to fame was something far more essential: free, clean, and always open bathrooms.

When news broke that the 39,000-square-foot flagship store would close in 2026, it wasn’t just outdoor enthusiasts who were mourning — it was anyone who’s ever wandered the city streets in desperate search of a restroom. In a city where basic public facilities are scarce, REI’s open-door policy became an unspoken act of kindness, a place where people found relief, dignity, and even a strange sense of belonging.

So why does the closing of one store hit such a nerve? Maybe it’s because this story isn’t just about bathrooms — it’s about how a simple act of generosity can ripple through a city, touching lives in ways few corporations ever intend. 

Welcome to That's Life, I Swear. This podcast is about life's happenings in this world that conjure up such words as intriguing, frightening, life-changing, inspiring, and more. I'm Rick Barron your host. 

That said, here's the rest of this story    

The Great Toilet Tragedy: How REI Broke New York's Heart (and Bladders)

In the grand tapestry of New York City crises—subway delays, pizza rat sightings, pigeons with attitude problems—a new catastrophe has emerged that's hitting locals right where it hurts: their bladders.

When REI casually dropped the bombshell during the week of October 6, 2025, that its sprawling 39,000-square-foot Soho palace of outdoor equipment would be shuttering its doors after more than a decade of service, the internet did what the internet does best: it panicked. But not about the loss of camping gear or climbing shoes. No, New Yorkers were devastated about something far more precious, the city's most legendary free bathroom.

"Where am I gonna pee?!" was the outcry across all social media postings that perfectly encapsulated the collective anguish of millions. Some people who manage an overactive bladder with prescription medication weren’t being dramatic. The worry voiced what hundreds of thousands of downtown wanderers were thinking: REI wasn't just closing a store. It was closing a sacred sanctuary.

The Throne Room of Soho

Let's paint the picture of what made REI Soho's bathrooms so magnificent, so revered, so utterly indispensable to the urban ecosystem of lower Manhattan.

In a metropolis bursting with millions of perpetual pedestrians—where your feet are your primary transportation and where public restrooms are rarer than affordable apartments—REI Soho emerged as an oasis. Its location was chef's kiss perfect: smack dab in the middle of everything, making it the ideal pit stop before an evening of revelry or during a marathon shopping expedition through the neighborhood's trendy boutiques.

But here's what really made it special: the place was enormous. This wasn't some cramped coffee shop with one sad single-stall bathroom where you'd have to make awkward eye contact with the barista while pretending you totally planned to buy a seven-dollar latte. No, REI Soho was vast enough that visitors could glide in with the stealth of a ninja, make their way to the facilities, handle their business, and disappear back into the urban jungle without anyone batting an eye.

And the best part? This wasn't some accidental loophole or oversight. According to an REI spokesman, the open-door (or should we say, unlocked bathroom) policy is entirely intentional. The company operates approximately 195 stores across the United States, and not a single one locks its bathrooms. It's part of their mission to create a welcoming environment, a philosophy that has inadvertently made them the unsung heroes of urban bladder relief.

The Employee Perspective: A Bathroom Information Desk

Benjamin Camenzuli, a 33-year-old actor, arrived in New York City from Canada in 2021 with dreams presumably related to his chosen profession. What he got instead was a three-month education in the true needs of New York City residents. Stationed in REI's rock-climbing shoes and camp section on the same level as the store entrances, Camenzuli quickly discovered what his real job description entailed.

"Seventy-five percent of the time, the question I would get is, 'Where is the bathroom?'" he recalled, presumably having had this particular phrase seared into his brain through sheer repetition.

Imagine showing up to work at an outdoor equipment retailer, ready to discuss the merits of various hiking boots or the proper insulation for sleeping bags, only to become a de facto bathroom concierge. Camenzuli's experience reveals a beautiful truth about REI Soho: it had transcended its intended purpose and become something more vital to the community—a public service.

Even neighboring businesses got in on the action, sending their own customers to REI when nature called. It's the kind of informal alliance that makes you wonder if there was some sort of underground bathroom-referral network operating in Soho, with REI as the kingpin of relief.

Corporate Surprise: "Wait, You Care About What?"

The announcement of the closure came with the standard corporate language one expects from such decisions. Ken Voeller, REI Co-op's divisional vice president of store operations, acknowledged the difficulty of the choice and its impact on both customers and employees. Standard stuff. But then came the delightful twist.

"But candidly, we just did not expect the response regarding specifically our bathrooms and the service they provided to New Yorkers," Voeller admitted, which is perhaps the most endearing example of corporate bewilderment in recent memory.

Picture the REI executive team sitting in a conference room, preparing for various reactions to their closure announcement. They probably anticipated concerns about job losses, nostalgia for the shopping experience, and maybe some complaints about losing a climbing wall or gear selection. What they got instead was a citywide outcry about toilets. You can almost hear the confused silence in that boardroom: "They're... upset about... the bathrooms?"

The Broader Bathroom Wars

REI's closure comes at a particularly tough time in the debate over public bathrooms. Retail establishments and restaurants have increasingly been slamming their stall doors in the faces of non-customers, citing chaos management and cost control as their reasons.

The most high-profile casualty of this trend came earlier in 2025, when Starbucks—once the beacon of hope for coffee-scented relief—reversed its nearly decade-long policy of bathroom accessibility. After years of allowing anyone to use their facilities regardless of purchase history, the coffee giant announced that bathrooms would now be for paying customers only. A spokeswoman explained this was meant to "improve the store experience," though one wonders whose experience was actually being improved.

New York City businesses are particularly notorious for their bathroom stinginess, guarding their toilets like dragons hoarding treasure. This has given rise to entire industries dedicated to solving the problem. Enter Got2GoNYC, a crowdsourced digital mapping project that tracks clean public bathrooms throughout the city, complete with social media updates, photos, videos, and ratings. It's like Yelp, but for emergencies.

Theodora Siegel, the founder of Got2GoNYC, even made a pilgrimage to REI Soho last year to verify its bathroom credentials for her followers. Her video investigation confirmed not only that the facilities were open and accessible, but that they also provided free menstrual products. "Yep, they do. So 10 out of 10 toilets," Siegel declared in her review, bestowing upon REI the highest honor in the bathroom rating system.

The Great Migration: Where Will New York Pee Now?

The announcement triggered an immediate and frantic sharing of bathroom intelligence across social media platforms. New Yorkers, resourceful creatures that they are, began compiling alternative options with the urgency typically reserved for zombie apocalypse survival guides.

"Try Crate & Barrel nearby!" suggested several well-meaning souls, only to be immediately corrected by others who pointed out that the location had closed in 2023. Nothing says New York like outdated bathroom intel.

Other suggestions poured in: sneak into Bloomingdale's basement level, some advised. The Soho Grand Hotel is another option, others whispered conspiratorially. The whole exchange read like an underground resistance movement sharing escape routes. People referenced personal connections—waiters they know, store managers who owe them favors, staff members who provide VIP bathroom access when needed. It's a reminder that in New York, who you know matters, even when what you need is just a toilet.

The Real Reasons for Closure (Less Fun Than Bathroom Drama)

Lost somewhat in the toilet talk is the actual business reasoning behind REI's closure. The outdoor equipment retailer has been struggling with stagnant sales as behemoths like Walmart and Amazon expand their gear selections while offering increasingly rapid shipping options. Why trek to a physical store when you can have camping equipment delivered to your door by tomorrow?

The Soho location has also been embroiled in controversy recently, with workers unionizing and staging protests outside the store. These are significant, serious issues affecting real livelihoods and labor conditions.

But let's be honest: none of that makes for nearly as entertaining a story as New York's collective panic over losing access to free toilets. And in a way, the bathroom fixation reveals something genuinely sweet about urban community, how small conveniences become cherished institutions, and how a corporation's simple act of keeping bathrooms accessible can generate more goodwill than any marketing campaign.

The Legacy of REI Soho

As the calendar counts down to REI Soho's final flush, the store has secured its place in New York City lore not as a retailer of outdoor equipment, but as an accidental guardian of basic human self-respect. In a city that can feel hostile to its residents' basic biological needs, REI stood as a quiet champion of accessibility.

The closure in 2026 will leave a hole in Soho—not just in the retail landscape, but in the invisible infrastructure that makes city life manageable. Where visitors once found anonymous relief between rock-climbing shoes and camping stoves, there will soon be empty space and memories.

So, here's to you, REI Soho bathroom. You served millions who never bought a single carabiner. You were there for journalism students after long shifts, communications executives with medical needs, parents with small children, Bronx residents facing long subway rides, and countless others who just needed a moment of peace in the chaos of city life.

You were 10 out of 10 toilets, indeed. 

What can we learn from this story? What's the takeaway?

This story about the closing of REI’s SoHo flagship store offers a surprising but meaningful reflection on urban life, community, and the small comforts that connect us.

For many New Yorkers, REI wasn’t just a store—it was a rare oasis in a city where something as basic as finding a clean, free public restroom feels like a luxury. Its closure highlights how cities, even the most advanced and bustling, often fail to meet simple human needs. The story shows how a place can become beloved not for what it sells, but for the everyday relief it quietly provides.

We can also learn how businesses unintentionally shape urban culture. REI’s open-bathroom policy built goodwill and a sense of belonging, proving that hospitality doesn’t always come from profit-driven motives. In contrast, when corporations like Starbucks tighten access, it underscores how basic human needs are increasingly commercialized.

Ultimately, the story reminds us that what people miss most isn’t just convenience, it’s kindness in public spaces. A bathroom may seem trivial, but for many, it represented trust, care, and a small piece of shared humanity in a crowded city that often forgets to make room for it. 

Well, there you go, my friends; that's life, I swear

For further information regarding the material covered in this episode, I invite you to visit my website, which can be found on Apple Podcasts, for show notes and the episode transcript.

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