How many times will we see the following joke?: a patron of Bed, Bath, and Beyond is in said store, and sees three sections: “Bed,” “Bath,” and “Beyond.” They enter the door labeled “Beyond” and start floating in a vast purples sky, surrounded by cherubs with Mia Farrow’s face, singing Doors songs in Swahili, etc.

Regardless of the variations on that scenario, back in the solid reality of bedding and bathroom accoutrements, this 6th Ave location is always crowded on the weekends, so be warned. You may end up fighting over the last scented candles (personal favorite: “Meadows of County Cork at 6:45am in August”) with riff-raff from the outer boroughs. On our visit we found a lack of toilet paper in one stall, which is reminiscent of a parachute without a rip cord (RIP Buzz). There were, however, two plungers under the sink, armed and ready for action; good thinking given the aforementioned wealth of foot traffic. The marble swirl pattern on the sink got us a bit hungry for chocolate sundaes, but the water on the toilets and ground quickly curbed that, giving the bathroom a very dingy feeling. Bathrooms are one of those places where dryness is very important. Just like underwear. The large mirror is fought over even in the men’s bathroom (this is Chelsea after all). Besides the wetness, the bathroom does reasonably well on cleanliness, but lacks character. Like faking admiration for an enthusiastic friend’s dour cat, you just have to grin and bear it.

Rating: 4.0