Working on the Sheilas

This is in the middle of the story right now, but I think it would make a good ending. I'm not sure. These Sheilas are growing on me, for some bizarre reason.

The Sheilas come together in this group and they're not allowed to talk about their Sheilaness – how they feathered their hair this morning or put on blue eye shadow or laughed in champagne titters at the men in the elevators. Instead they are supposed to talk about what they did today or how they feel or what it is, exactly, about men in elevators that shatters them so.