The Shrine: Restroom a shrine, too, to African-American music

Mack Squared, an Afro-Latin dancer extraordinaire, was subletting in Harlem for a few months, and she invited me out to experience the live African music at the Shrine, her favorite local hotspot (134th St. and Adam Clayton Powell). 

The Shrine’s restroom is proof that a restroom doesn’t need to be fancy to be fantastic. It’s downstairs, past a clear plastic sign that says “Restrooms,” and the stairwell’s plywood walls are decorated with posters and album covers featuring African-American musicians. This theme continues downstairs in the vestibule outside the one-stall restrooms, with more posters and album covers all over the walls and the restroom doors. Mismatched antique chairs are arranged in a row against a bare stone wall. There are more posters and album covers inside the restroom, covering the upper half of the walls and the ceiling. The floor and lower half of the walls are made of black and white tiles in diamond pattern. A wire basket hangs on the wall and holds extra toilet paper rolls, and a sign in the center of the mirror tells patrons, “Beer now cheaper than gas. Drink, don’t drive.”

The Shrine is truly a Harlem gem and worth a trip uptown to experience something different from the generic downtown bars and lounges. The wooden bar isn’t varnished, and the place hasn’t been renovated in eons, but I’m not complaining when you can get an amazing pina colada for under $10. And if you’re lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it), a random old man from the neighborhood will grab your hand and make you dance with him to the vibrant music. What an evening!

Restroom Rating: 4

230 Fifth: Even this rooftop bar’s restroom has a view

230 Fifth is home to one of the greatest rooftop bars I’ve experienced in NYC – perhaps partly because even the restroom offers a spectacular view of the city (27th Street and 5th Avenue). 

Before you get to the rooftop, you walk through this low-lit, tacky, disco-style indoor area, and that’s where you’ll find the main restroom, behind a bumpy metallic purple door. There is a row of one-stall restrooms closer to the rooftop, too; they’re marked co-ed by the outlines of a man in a suit and a woman in a flared cocktail dress. The main restroom has white tile walls, and the floor is white tile, too – but they’re somewhat amorphous, river-stone shaped white tiles instead of standard squares. A window looks out toward Lower Manhattan, offering a splendid view of the new World Trade Center and, if you’re lucky, a glorious blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Fancy cylindrical sconces flank the simple, frameless mirrors.

I’ve never seen views like the ones from 230 Fifth. You have a 360-degree cityscape right before your eyes, including the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. The rooftop also features majestic palm trees, so that you almost feel like you’re at a tropical beach in the middle of Manhattan. Drinks are pricy, but I adored my Cherry Coke cocktail and wish I’d written down the ingredients so I could recreate it someday. Service was spotty – we had to remind our waitress that we’d requested an order of fries when they didn’t show up for more than 20 minutes – but that was fine, because it gave us an excuse to linger a little longer enjoying one of the last summery days of September.

Restroom Rating: [rating=3]

 

Berry Park: Huckleberry lemonade and boring bathrooms

I first experienced Lady RaRa’s homemade version of Berry Park‘s huckleberry lemonade when she found a liquor store in the city that sells 44º North mountain huckleberry vodka. It was magical, so I looked forward to trying the real thing atop Berry Park’s rooftop in Williamsburg (4 Berry Street). 

Berry Park’s restroom is nothing special. An advertisement for Spaten Brau, featuring a German beer maid, hangs on the door of the women’s room. Inside, the walls are maroon, with black paneling along the bottom half. The toilet stalls are made of dark wood, and the lighting “fixtures” are exposed bulbs hanging from wires. The end.

It’s not just Berry Park’s restroom that is a letdown – the $8 huckleberry lemonade is, too, because they water it down with a ton of soda (NOT one of 44º North’s ingredients, according to their website). Lady RaRa doesn’t water it down either when she’s playing mixologist, so I much prefer her version because she maintains the cocktail’s unique, sweet-tart, lemony-huckleberry-y punch. The drink itself is not worth the $8 price tag, but when a pretty view of Manhattan from across the East River comes with it, it’s not such a hefty price to pay.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

Vu: No view in this restroom below the Empire State Building

High above the city in midtown, Vu has long been one of Lady RaRa’s favorite rooftop bars – it’s got an incredible view of the Empire State Building, yet the drinks cost less than $10. Vu closed down for a while, and she was thrilled that it re-opened this past summer in the same location (32nd Street between Broadway and 5th Avenue). 

Vu certainly has a spectacular view, but the restroom is nothing special. The restroom is all white with a burgundy tile floor. A framed poster on the wall advertises live music and happy hour on Sundays. The soap dispenser is hung on the bathroom door, which is a little odd.

A bunch of us met up with Lady RaRa when her sister was in town from the Midwest. The weather was unfortunately horrendous, so we had to ditch the open rooftop area for a small indoor space to avoid a torrential downpour. I did brave the rain, umbrella in hand, to get a glimpse and snap a photo of the Empire State Building.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

 

Brandy Library: Classy man den keeps it classy in the restroom…sort of

After one of our typical Terroir Tribeca outings, Rosee and I hit up nearby Brandy Library (25 North Moore Street), which is exactly what it sounds like: a veritable spirits library, lined all around with dark wood shelves stocked with bottles of bourbon, scotch, whisky and the like.

Brandy Library did a great job with the restroom, beginning with a painting of distillery equipment on the wall between the men’s and women’s rooms. The women’s room was quite spacious (I heard differently about the men’s room), and all of the walls were made of a rich wood paneling that matched the bar and lounge area. A beautiful hammered copper sink was set into a beige marble counter; the faucet and handles were intentionally installed off-center, which was quirky. A wooden tray held paper towels, stamped with bourbon paraphernalia (like a barrel), that matched the drink coasters used at the bar. Decorations included a vase of tropical flowers, those library-style lights with pull chains and pale, textured pieces of art that, at first glance, I thought were amorphous shapes but are actually images of women looking directly down at their naked bodies. And now that I look at the photos, I realize it’s very, very obvious.

Brandy Library was crowded with New York Times-reading, suit-wearing Wall Street types, making it very much the type of place where Rosee and I should spend the bulk of our after-hours time. This classy man den is definitely the most masculine venue I’ve been to in NYC: dark everything, big couches, lots of leather, and a hefty menu covering endless varieties of hard liquor, from $10 to $200 a glass (TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS A GLASS). I had a sip of Rosee’s $20 Bowmore scotch whisky, and was surprised by how delightfully smoky it was (that’s how my limited my knowledge of bourbon is). Still, I can’t get past the punch-you-in-the-gut smell of most liquor, so I’ll stick with lapsang souchong tea when I want a little smoke. I ordered the “wakeup call,” what you’d think would be a girly cocktail – a blend of vanilla vodka, espresso, chocolate and coffee liqueur – but it was all kinds of bitter (in a good-ish way), making it a manly girly cocktail, if such a thing exists. The bartender gave us a complimentary tray of cheese puffs, which were crazy delicious. I know you don’t typically do cocktail pairings, but when I took a sip of my bitter cocktail after a bite of cheese puff, it tasted exactly like my mother’s chocolate cream puffs. Mmmmmm.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]

Bar Veloce: Ordinary wine bar, ordinary restroom

Lady Ra Ra and I have this problem where the days we get together coincide with torrential downpours. This time, after dining at Outback Steakhouse, we needed to find a nearby spot to continue our evening — Bar Veloce (7th Avenue, between 20th and 21st Streets) was not far, but because we tried Trailer Park first (it was packed), we were both toting a whole lot of water in our shoes by the time we sat down for a glass of wine, squelching and sloshing our way through the rainy streets of Manhattan.

Bar Veloce has a dimly lit, den-like, date night-y vibe — very much what you’d expect of a NYC wine bar — but the restroom is a snoozefest. I took a not-so-discreet photo of the restroom door (you can’t hide an iPhone camera flash in a dark venue, and after two years of bathroom blogging, I’m so over caring anyway), which was the only mildly interesting feature: a black-and-silver placard indicated that the “WC” was for both genders. After taking the photo, I discovered the door was locked; a bus boy, who probably wondered why this weirdo was snapping pics of the potty, told me there was another restroom hidden in an alcove. It was tiny (you can see all of it in the photo, except right where I’m standing, and my back was against the door) and ordinary: ordinary toilet, ordinary sink, ordinary black-and-white tile floor and ordinary Pepto Bismol pink soap. The soap dispenser was one of those weird ones where you have to push directly upward on a peg at the bottom to release a stream of soap. Although you don’t see that type of dispenser every day, I wouldn’t call it exciting.

Lady Ra Ra and I had a lovely evening at Bar Veloce, but it had little to do with the wine bar itself, except that it gave us a place to sit and chat for a while, inside and out of the rain. By the time we finished our glasses of wine and left, our feet were still cold and wet, and all I could think about were my L.L.Bean Wicked Good slippers.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

P.J. Clarke’s, on the Hudson

My coworkers aren’t big on happy hour (unlike my Steve & Barry’s cronies, who hit up Lennon’s Pub religiously every Thursday), but when we do go, it’s generally to P.J. Clarke’s on the Hudson in the World Financial Center.

You have to walk roughly 87.3 miles to the back of the long, narrow bar / restaurant to get to the restroom. One time, I almost started to turn into the kitchen because I couldn’t believe I still hadn’t made it to the bathroom. It’s a serious trek — no joke. Once you finally make it back there, the restroom is very much like the rest of P.J. Clarke’s: dark and woody, in keeping with the pub feel. There’s also a lot of red going on to match the checkered tablecloths in the dining room, right down to some red eucalyptus sprouting from a white vase resting on the marble sink counter. Some antique-looking sconces light up the mirror. Nothing fancy, but not too bad for a bar bathroom.

Chock-full of suits and Wall Street dudes every evening, you’d think P.J. Clarke’s would be every single girl’s dream, but not so much; it smells a bit like a frat house (there are even beer pong tables…), and the long bar is obnoxiously packed. P.J. Clarke’s does offer a good view of the Hudson River and lots of rich people’s yachts in the marina, and in warm weather, you can sit outside and avoid the insanity inside. I’ve been for lunch a couple of times, too, and can’t say that it’s one of my favorite places to eat. I had a medium burger so pink inside that I think it mooed at me when I took the first bite; another time, I had a reuben so fatty that I thought I’d have a heart attack before getting back to my desk. Anyway, P.J. Clarke’s is lame. I can’t figure out why they have multiple locations in NYC, and even one in Sao Paulo, Brazil (what?!).

Rating: [rating=3]

Stout NYC

As Irish pubs go, Stout NYC (133 West 33rd Street, between 6th and 7th Avenues) is one of the lamest, yet it plays an important role in my life, having been the scene of multiple farewell and reunion parties for my former coworkers at my first job out of college at now-defunct Steve & Barry’s, a low-price clothing retailer. Some of the people I love the most in this world are from that job, and it’s always nice to see so many of the old faces, all together in one dark, loud room. We laugh, we reminisce, we catch up, we drink overpriced Long Island iced teas and crappy wine.

Stout’s restroom is trendy and sleek, with an all-gray color scheme: a pale gray floor, dark gray brick-like tiles on the bottom half of the walls and medium gray square tiles on the top half of the walls. The sink counter is mottled gray, too, with shiny steel sinks and mini trashcans set in it. Sturdy, geometric wall sconces cast light between the mirrors, which have simple steel frames. The restroom décor is clean and fresh but doesn’t match the rest of the bar. The entrance does, however, feel almost pub-like, thanks to a wooden door with a frosted glass window and antique-looking brass signs indicating which restroom is for ladies and which is for gentlemen. There’s also a watercolor painting of a beer bottle, a pint glass and…a pencil.

I’ll never go to Stout on my own, even though it’s conveniently located near Penn Station – but next time the Steve & Barry’s gang is there, sign me up. It’s almost like our old “not company sponsored” weekly happy hour Thursdays at Lennon’s Pub in Port Washington, only a whole lot less Irish and a whole lot less awesome, without Carlo’s Pizza next door.

Rating: [rating=2]

Idle Hands Bar

I don’t watch football, and I don’t go to the Lower East Side, yet somehow, I was watching a Houston Texans game one Sunday evening at Idle Hands Bar (25 Avenue B, downstairs).

I enjoy graffiti-covered restrooms, and I think I have a thing for over-stickered bathrooms, too — perhaps because I’m nostalgic for the reams of sticker sheets I had as a kid but never used, always waiting for the right special occasion. I let the sticker years pass me by, but they’re here in full force at Idle Hands, covering every inch of the bathroom, including the toilet, hand dryer and soap dispenser; only the sink was saved, its wet surface anathema to adhesive. There are stickers for bands and brands and so much more, layered on top of each other. My favorite was an address sticker from the post office, on which had been printed a skeleton in overlapping red and blue — if only I’d carried a pair of 3-D glasses with me.

The Texans won. Idle Hands’ burgers looked trashy and awesome. Their tater tots were SPICY! I don’t like Magners hard cider, and I still don’t like football either. Most exciting? I made it home from the LES in less than an hour. Hurrah!

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

Employees Only

Employees Only (510 Hudson St.) is a fancy, art deco-style speakeasy with overpriced cocktails that’s a little too fancy for me, but the restroom was worth seeing.

You go up a few wooden steps to the “W.C.,” which has a heavy, dark door with a long strip of grooves down the center. The shiny wall outside the bathroom, decorated with a drawing of an old skyscraper, is rounded off at the corner, keeping perfectly with the 1920s spirit. Inside, the white-tiled bathroom is small, with a miniscule corner sink, but what’s most interesting is the artwork. Hanging above the toilet is a collage of black-and-white photographs from the period with women in all states of undress. Like, shirtless ladies lounging around smoking cigarettes, or pants-free women lying on the ground next to an old car. Bizarre, and probably offensive to some, but it was certainly a unique choice for bathroom decorations. I was also captivated by the angular white shade on the ceiling lamp – Employees Only really knows how to take a theme and run with it.

I won’t go back to Employees Only because it was too packed for me to want to pay an arm and a leg for a drink, no matter how well mixed it might be. In fact, some girl kept yelling at me because my small bag was in her face – well, honey, don’t sit at a table in bar that’s three feet wide at midnight if you don’t want things in your face.  Another cool anecdote: K and I picked up imitations of Tamara de Lempicka paintings in Paris, and a print of an original was hanging beside the bar.

Restroom Rating: [rating=4]