Planet of the Grapes

95 E Houston St

Confusingly, “whole foods” refers to both a category of foods (generally unprocessed, unrefined, and using no added ingredients) and a chain that sells natural foods. Perhaps the chain is hoping to do to food what Xerox once did to making copies.

After going up to floor 2 and passing their version of a cafeteria, complete with a sushi conveyor belt, we were greeted with something of a lobby preceding the restrooms. There were stone bleachers like the ones found in some city parks, and a mural on the walls that could alternately be described as “graffiti-chic” and “neo-classical ghetto.” Apparently Whole Foods is “cool.” Once we had established that, we entered the bathrooms, an unexpected orange due to the (free range?) orange wall tiles. Graffiti adorned the paper towel dispenser, but after a close scrutiny of the marker strokes we determined it was not done by the same artist who had created the aforementioned mural outside the bathrooms. One soap dispenser was empty and another low; they were dangerously teetering on the brink of major mandatory point deductions, just like when an Olympic gymnast wears a ski mask and cape during a floor routine. We observed all this in spite of a clipboard hanging on the wall with an employee checklist for bathroom maintenance on it.

Appropriately, Whole Foods uses “paper without trees,” made of recycled fiber, tea leaves, helmets, scarves and action figures, in their “paper” towel dispenser. Now if they would only invent toilets without splash. The urinals in the men’s room are extremely low to the ground, perhaps reflecting the main demographic of this Lower East side neighborhood, thumbing its nose at all the hipsters who are just not growing up, still suckling at the trust fund teet. Perhaps they could have really gone for the gauntlet and had wooden toilet stalls, compost toilets, and a few leaves to rub your hands on as “soap,” but they gave a decent showing nonetheless.

Rating: 6.0

610 6th Avenue and 18th Street

Old Navy—which is not old, naval-themed nor contains only navy blue clothing—is the third chain owned by Gap, Inc., the other two being Gap and Banana Republic. It has always presented itself as more casual than Banana Republic and less sterile than Gap while remaining the most affordable of the three clothing lines. Gap Inc treats this as its “street store,” and the inside feels like you’re shopping in a warehouse down by the docks. Of course, this is no insult to warehouses nor docks (in fact we have friends that live in warehouses and docks—honest!). The shabby casual culture is certainly popular enough that the store does very well for itself.

The restrooms at this branch not only failed to match the look of the store but also threw a mortal chill down our spines. The mind behind the design of this branch’s bathroom runs parallel to a serial killer’s. The tiny hexagonal floor tiles were off-white, their borders filled with decades of grime. A pale yellow brick motif ran across the lower half of the walls, and the stall doors were made from grated metal, giving it that industrial look. But the true terror was the toilet. As if most toddlers aren’t scared enough of the toilet’s mouth-shaped monstrous visage, the pipe coming out the back of this toilet resembles a steel anaconda writhing up towards the ceiling and will traumatize even some 30-year-olds (especially those who have never held a full-time job). A chain hangs ominously from the reptilian display, perhaps pointing upward to where the steel anaconda hung itself (is that possible?). Perhaps fear is the reason these toilets look like they’ve never been flushed before. A garbage can stands in front of a urinal; apparently, an “out of order” sign was too subtle so they had to put a metal bouncer in front of it. If Mecha-Godzilla has a torture chamber, this is where he goes to get inspired.

Rating: 4.5

153 East 53rd Street

The Citigroup Center building is the one that we used to joke about skiing down as kids because of its angled top. Clearly, you’d have to have some kind of hang glider, as you would fly off the side and still have about fifty stories between you and the street. Clearly, we had active imaginations as children and did not think things through. Some say that never changed. Granted, but the people who designed this bathroom did not think things through and have no imagination; at least we have one of those things. And what is the most glaring example of lazy thinking that one can find in a public bathroom? Say it with us, kids: those small ugly grey square tiles. At this location they are–wait for it–not only on the floors but also on parts of the walls. The audacity is astounding. The baby changing station is too dirty for a mid-range hooker. Look, we know most babies can’t read, but Barnes and Noble really has to be more considerate than that. The visitor is greeted by janitorial equipment; we didn’t know we were expected to clean. The hand motion sink faucets are quite difficult to negotiate, and as we stood there waving our hands under them, trying to make the water run, for a brief moment we knew what it must feel like to be panhandling for spare change on a train car when no one has anything to give. It turns out that one did not work at all. There was graffiti on the dryer, but at least it was a Dostoevsky quote. Perhaps Barnes and Noble thinks that people who are into books don’t care about bathrooms since they’re all absent-minded and in their own heads too much to notice things in the real world, like good bathrooms. Here’s the rub, Barnes: some of us do.

Rating: 4.5

14th Street, Union Square

Continuing down “murderer’s row,” or the south side of 14th Street west of Union Square, we entered yet another fast food chain with a conveniently accessible bathroom towards the front of the store. After being stunned and battered by our recent bathroom experience at the Taco Bell/Pizza Hut next door, we staggered into Wendy’s, one of us deliriously yelling “where is that red-headed bitch? She owes me twenty seven dollars and I also want my copy of The DaVinci Code back!” After regaining composure, we re-focused on the task at hand and entered the facilities.

It turns out we should have known that the same forces that set upon destroying the bathroom at Taco Bell/Pizza Hut were also at work on their scarlet-haired neighbor. Once again, the door did not lock, and we started to think that these 14th street bathrooms were all designed by the same person and that that person grew up in a commune (a filthy commune–not at all worth the free love that comes with it). Sitting atop the sink, seemingly embarrassed, a dish of liquid soap humbly presented itself. If you’ve been reading our reviews you may know that we feel bar soap, while fine in someone’s home, is not okay in a public restroom (see Ray Bono Pizza review). A communal (ahem) dish of liquid soap brings to light the same philosophical conundrum that a bar of soap does, and the question is this: can soap get dirty? We didn’t have to spend years meditating in the Himalayas to give you a definite answer: yes, yes it can. And while we loathe bar soap in public facilities, liquid soap may be even worse, for the simple fact that it adds insult to injury. A bar of soap comes as it is, liquid soap is supposed to be placed in a dispenser, and thus a bowl of liquid soap basically says, “here, we’re too lazy to do this right, so everyone dip in.” In other words, “Go fuck yourself” (hey, it’s New York).

Once again, the metallic walls were victim to scratchitti (we hope the perpetrators ruined their keys and couldn’t get back inside their homes). The toilet paper dispenser looked as if someone took a large bite out of it (maybe those Wendy’s meals aren’t that filling). The clean bowl was the only redeeming quality, but that’s not saying much, as cleaning it is the bear minimum the staff should do in terms of restroom upkeep. It’s like saying you’re a good parent because you occasionally tell your child you love them in between hits on the crack pipe. The faucet was perpetually running, but then we figured out why: the bathroom was crying, a once-beautiful woman now abandoned by those who should still love her but don’t, feeling sorry for herself as tears fall into an open food container and mix with what little remains of her Wendy’s Super Value Meal. Dear little Wendy, what happened?

Rating: 2.0

14th Street, Union Square

The infamous tag-team duo Taco Bell and Pizza Hut (Known as “The Bacteria Brothers” in the WWE) has staked its claim on the 14th Street western strip. This strip west of Union Square is home to cheap stores and cheaper eats, where shopping is conducted out of dire necessity. As Union Square unofficially presents itself as the forum for the young, artistic and broke, these chains do quite well for themselves. And although many of them require that you purchase something in their establishments, most do not enforce this rule. One could walk into their bathroom at any time without buying a thing.

In the case of the 14th Street Taco Bell/Pizza Hut bathroom, you may not buy anything but you will certainly pay for it. The door’s banana-carcinogen color may fool you into thinking you’re entering a safe place. The inside doorknob hangs from its own hinges and prevents you from locking it. The walls are made of the same cheap brushed metal as the airplane-style sink and covered in filth and graffiti. Under the sink, a red pail catches the leakings from the sink pipe. The floor is wet and littered with toilet paper, as is the toilet. Ironically, you won’t find any toilet paper in its dispenser. It’s like walking into a restaurant starving and seeing everyone eating great food, only to be told that the kitchen has just closed. Two soap dispensers offer the same option: no soap or no soap. If you haven’t run screaming yet, do NOT look up. A square hole has been cut out in the ceiling, perfect for storing a camera. Would we have tried to be funnier in this review, but these facts speak for themselves. Be warned: using this bathroom may put your image on a kinky bathroom porn site, and it currently bears the distinction of our lowest rating to date.

Rating: 1.5

14th Street and Broadway

Since our last visit, the Union Square branch has changed the appearance of its bathroom and provided us with another before and after segment.

This Virgin location has a large cafe on the main floor and this is where the restrooms are. There are two “oners,” one for men and one for women, though we’d expect that’s observed very loosely. Be warned that lines seem to be par for the course here. Our first visit gave us the impression that we might as well have been transported into the womb where the idea of graffiti itself spat forth from. Knowing that Virgin tries to be cool and edgy and distance itself from the stodginess associated with huge corporations, we wouldn’t be surprised if this graffiti was written by the employees as a job requirement. Since it was present in such a large amount, it did add a consistent character to the facility. Amidst all of this, the bathroom was kept clean. Chalky mint green wall tiles offer a bit of a change of taste, the piece of gum you chew after drinking twelve Pabst Blue Ribbon beers at a downtown dive.

In an effort to improve its image, Virgin cleaned most of the graffiti from the walls and mirror, but most just doesn’t cut it. Where this bathroom was once a tribute to the punk rock underbelly of New York music, now it is simply another casualty in the war on cleanliness. The mint green tiles were replaced with black. The toilet, once surprisingly white and pristine, was now left dirty and yellow, and tragically, the soap is still missing. They have, however, seemed to substitute soap at the sink for a “Take a penny, Leave a penny” trough, as though the four cents we found was any compensation for walking away with germs on our hands. We assume they were pennies; they could have been bacteria-stained dimes.

Update 07/28/09: With both electronic behemoths (Circuit City and Virgin Megastore) now gone, Union Square suffers a small setback in its public facility population. We knew this day would come, as people are making more purchases online than in actual stores. That’s fine, have your downloads. Let’s see you use iTunes’ bathroom.

Rating: 2.5

50th Street and 5th Avenue

Why not give the chains a chance? We did, and we found they’re called chains for a reason. Banana Republic is a respectable enough outfit, but its restrooms are still bush league. After all, everyone knows it’s just a suped-up Gap. When we visited one restroom it downright stunk, olfactorily speaking. By the looks of the offerings at the nearby Rockelller Center Concourse food court, this restroom probably loses that battle daily. The black and white-checkered floor gives the disorienting illusion that it is moving towards and away from you when you stare at it, an inevitability since nothing else here competes for your eye. In fact, it looks as if several harlequins had been hunted and their unitards stretched out on the ground as some kind of perverse flooring. Provided that this is a “flagship” location for ” B.R.” (we weren’t aware this was a fleet, but then again, retail chains love to take themselves too seriously), we figured that it would house an exemplary facility. It is, however, perfectly functional as a quick-fix, and provides a good example of a mid-range restroom. The stainless steel imported from Ukrainian materials, used for the faucets, impressed us, and the soap had a pleasant viscosity.

Rating 5.5

1230 5th Ave. at 104th Street

When an establishment contains multiple bathrooms, it often is handing their customers a two-edged sword. The second or even third bathroom presents a choice, and hopefully some diversity. On the other hand, with every choice comes a question. Where is the upstairs bathroom? Why is this particular bathroom less accessible to the public? What celebrities have used this facility? Why do bad things happen to good people? Now that the needy toilet-seeker has the choice, they already develop judgements on each bathroom in the establishment without even using them. El Museo del Barrio’s gallery bathroom distinguishes itself from that of the Hecksher Building’s by requiring that you pay to enter the museum. Though it’s suggested donation, the simple presence of a price tag often sends visitors to the Hecksher’s aforementioned “oner.”

All assumptions aside, the gallery bathroom is worth the price of suggested donation (see also, “So I can pay twenty-five cents?”). The walls are white-painted brick against a dark tile floor, bringing back memories of grade school. A large handicap stall with a baby changing station at least reminds you that you are an adult, possibly a parent, and not having disturbing flashbacks. When we visited, the baby station was broken in what we can only assume was a fatal “toddler gang war.” Perhaps even more disturbing than the broken station and the cold, mechanical look of the restroom is the cryptic graffiti on the wall opposite the mirrors. A picture of a woman is spray painted on, accompanied by words written backwards. If you look in the mirror you can read them properly, but we found it more appealing when it was illegible.

Rating: 5.5

1230 5th Ave. at 104th Street

El Museo del Barrio celebrates the rich Caribbean and Latin American cultures in New York. Too tempting to avoid, we must hereby make the stock comment that if you visit the corresponding restaurants these cultures provide, especially if you sport gringo digestive chemistry, you may in fact need the bathroom after such meals, and soon. Accordingly, this museum offers a couple of bathrooms, and one resides in the Hecksher building, before you even enter the museum itself. It’s great if you’re in the neighborhood, in need, and don’t have the time to go to the museum (in our efforts to aid the New York pedestrian, we are attempting to review all the facilities of “suggested donation” museums before moving on to their more expensive, but less anxiety-causing counterparts).

The bathroom here is a “oner,” (let’s not forget that’s one letter off from “loner”). Its saving grace was the large black “foot button” acting as the flusher on the toilet. Please re-read the last sentence. Thank you. And now we must question, and hope you join us in doing so: why is this not the standard in public restrooms? Let’s face it, the motion sensor stuff is a sham, they rarely work correctly short of your having to do an Irish jig in front of them to get them to flush. And even when they do work reasonably well, they make the option of a “mid-game” flush much more difficult. Sure you can use your foot on toilets with standard handle flushers, but it’s nice to see SOMEONE just acknowledging that yes, most sane people use their foot to flush, so we not design with that in mind? And even for that mid-game flush, this button is easier than a handle to elbow.

Like a Journey tribute band, the bathroom itself looked like it had not evolved since the ’70s. No plate protected the light switch, but we must admit we did get a little nostalgia for the throwback of the hand dryer they had: the big silvery guy with the round spout. The wall tiling was large at least (most tiny tiles are easy and unattractive, like those skeletal size -4 fashion models), but for the grand finale, we leave you with this: the sink had hair and green herbs in it. They swear it was oregano.

Rating: 4.0

1105 5th Avenue at 92nd Street

The Jewish Museum, far from the Jewish Heritage Museum in Battery Park City, resides on the Upper East Side on Fifth Avenue – known also as Museum Row. It is one of the better-known museums here besides the Guggenheim and the Met and receives pedestrian traffic accordingly. With security right at the door, checking your bags before you can even get your coats off and throwing you through a metal detector, the Jewish Museum trumps its neighbors in security. Perhaps the measures are to protect the work of the touchy subject of religion and heritage. We think maybe it’s to keep messhugenehs like us out. Of course, it seemed like a bad sign that they were even open on the sabbath. There is an upstairs and a downstairs bathroom, but the basement one is closest and best for anybody just looking to get in quick.

For any place that houses works of art, one would think that even the design of their bathrooms should be considered as such. Sadly, this is not the case here. The basement floor bathroom of the Jewish Museum is as basic as can be: no bowl of candy, no mother telling you that you don’t eat enough or call her enough, and certainly no dancing. The off-white wall tiles complement the black floor tiles in the same way one would tell a concert pianist after their performance, “Your hair looked good.” Two items that add a hint of character are worth mentioning: One sink offered two fancy boxes of Kleenex tissues instead of the cold metal dispensers, and an odd-looking seat/changing station greets the user upon entry. The bottom line is that this bathroom is kept pretty clean… and that’s it. But what do we need fancy bathrooms for? It’s nothing, we’ll use a plain bathroom like anybody else. It’s not like we went out of our way to find a nice bathroom…

Rating: 5