American Folk Art Museum

On a blazing hot, melty day, I needed to escape my sweltering apartment and the equally sweltering NYC streets, so I headed to the American Folk Art Museum (66th Street and Columbus) to take advantage of their air conditioning — and look at art, of course.

The bathroom was not on par with the unique exhibits. It was bland and sterile, with a a coat rack outside the women’s room (empty, of course, due to the heat wave), white and stainless steel fixtures, beige tiles and one of those Dyson AirBlades that I really don’t like. (Restrooms that have those immediately lose points in my book.) I was pleased that they had method soap, which is the soap I stock in my bathroom at home. It’s good stuff, although I’m not digging the “waterfall” scent I got most recently; it sounds fresh and mild, but it’s actually strong and perfume-y.

Despite a lackluster restroom, the American Folk Art Museum was a nice way to spend an hour or two. It’s quite small, to the point that I looked like a real idiot when I asked the people at the front desk for a map (“Uhhh, it’s these three rooms,” they said). I stretched my visit as long as possible so I didn’t have to go back outside, and read every single placard. Every single placard. This is not at all characteristic of me, which I guess is odd, considering I do love to read, and download all sorts of nerdy books onto my Kindle. As an aspiring artist myself, I enjoyed seeing artwork created by amateurs in all kinds of media, in all different eras of U.S. history. I was especially blown away by Eugene Andolsek, who made mesmerizing fractal-esque ink drawings on graph paper; if they’d sold prints in the gift shop, I would have bought one immediately.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

The Cloisters

With a place as awesome as The Cloisters, you’d expect the bathroom to at least be noteworthy, but it was so boring that I have basically nothing to say. Sure, you walked through a stone archway to get downstairs, but once you got to the bathroom, it was just a bathroom, plain and simple. I suppose it’s interesting that the floor was ultra-polished and that the sink counter was dark blue, but not really. The Cloisters is full of medieval religious artwork, so if anything, the bathroom felt far too modern to be appropriate.

Still, boring bathroom aside, The Cloisters is worth a visit all the way uptown to 190th Street. This extension of the Metropolitan Museum of Art is situated in Fort Tryon Park, which is one of the most beautiful parks I’ve seen in New York City. While you walk the twisting path to the museum, you get breathtaking views of the Hudson River, all surrounded by lush, tree-covered hills instead of the dingy New Jersey skyline that you see when you’re downtown. I’ve seen my fair share of religious paintings and sculptures, so I wasn’t blown away by the exhibits, although I did enjoy seeing the room hung with a series of unicorn tapestries – one of these was on the cover of a random book I got about unicorns when I was a kid (my great-great aunt had quite an eclectic library, some of which I inherited). The best part of The Cloisters was the cloisters themselves, small, carefully manicured courtyards framed by pillared, covered walkways. I would have liked to have sat along the wall in my favorite cloister for a couple of hours, writing and listening to music, but suddenly the sky turned a thick swirling gray, the wind picked up and a few sprinkles of rain darkened the sidewalk crisscrossing the cloister. There’s no protection from the elements in Fort Tryon Park, and I had a long way to get back to the downtown train, so I skedaddled as quickly as I could, and managed to beat the afternoon storm.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

The Frick Collection

The Frick Collection is housed in an old mansion on the Upper East Side, so it’s fitting that its restroom is a grand affair.

For starters, you descend a broad marble staircase to the basement, where arched entryways and a marble bench welcome you. I’m not sure how cushy the men’s room is, but the women’s room has an entire lounge for primping and gossiping – it’s something you’d expect to see at a wedding at a fancy country club, where women sip their cocktails, re-apply their lipstick and whisper, “Did you see what Francine wore?! And that date she brought? Dear heavens.” An entire wall in the lounge is made of a mirror, and there are white, mirror-topped vanities on opposite ends of the room, along with large paintings of women in Victorian getups. Soft benches are strewn around the lounge, but I doubt they’re used often; who wants to just sit and shoot the breeze in a museum restroom, no matter how fancy it is? The restroom itself feels very vintage, which is fitting for a museum that exhibits classic pieces of art in the natural setting of some rich dude’s extravagant home. The stalls have dark varnished louvre doors, and the basic white sinks are pretty curved antiques with those annoying separate spigots for hot and cold water, which boil your left hand while your right hand turns blue. Although there were no cocktails to be found in the lounge, the bathroom did have a paper cup receptacle, ensuring that no gal goes thirsty when visiting the Frick.

Generally, I found the artwork at the Frick pretty boring – I feel like once you’ve seen one painting of a 17^th century Spanish dude, or the Madonna with Child, or a huge ship sailing in a stormy sea, you’ve seen them all. But it was a unique experience to view the art in a parlor, a dining room a ballroom, a library (and so on) as opposed to the typical bland, cavernous rooms at a museum like the Met or the Louvre. My favorite part was the conservatory-style garden, complete with a bubbling fountain and fake frogs. It was the perfect place to sit on a Sunday afternoon, and I could have stayed for hours.

Restroom Rating: [rating=5]

Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum

I’m not much of one for warships and fighter jets, but when Rosee told me about an opportunity to watch “Jurassic Park” atop the U.S.S. Intrepid one steamy summer evening, I immediately squealed (in email form), “SIGN ME UP!” The U.S.S. Intrepid is the centerpiece of the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum, which is also currently exhibiting a space shuttle; we caught a glimpse of it as we sat and waited for the sun to set and the film to start rolling.

The museum was closed by the time they let us on the aircraft carrier, and it was a whole lot of steps to the top level, so I headed to the ground-level restroom before showtime. The restroom was sort of militaristic and nautical, with wall-mounted round lights behind bars that made me think of a ship’s portholes. The color scheme was all steel, white and dark gray, and cylindrical caged lights hung above the mirror. And there was a very sleek shiny black-and-white hand dryer that looked very much like a scale — I’d never seen that model before.That was really it; very bare bones.

The movie experience was really fantastic. It felt like such an authentic New York City experience to be watching a classic ’90s film while seated on the hard top of an aircraft carrier, your butt falling more and more asleep every time a raptor lurched after its human prey. What made it even more special was the fact that this was my first time ever seeing “Jurassic Park.” (No, I’m not kidding.) And it was AMAZING! I LOVED it. I had no idea I wold love it. The soundtrack, which somehow I knew, gave me chills, especially at the beginning when they first showed up at the park and saw the majestic long-necked herbivores. I honestly expected the movie to be super cheesy, with even cheesier special effects, but it was well made and produced, and the most dated aspects were the costumes and hairstyles. Wow, the ’90s were bad, weren’t they? Before they started “Jurassic Park,” they showed a short video about the U.S.S. Intrepid, which entered military service during World War II and was not retired until the 1980s — so incredible.

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]

New-York Historical Society (Caffè Storico)

I recently went to Caffè Storico, the newish restaurant in the New-York Historical Society (77th St. and Central Park West), and was so in love with its fresh, airy decor (bright yellow upholstery! golden chandeliers! shelves lined with pretty dinnerware!) that I looked forward to seeing what the restroom had in store. Big disappointment…

Turns out Caffè Storico doesn’t have its own bathroom, so you have to leave the restaurant and use the museum’s restroom around the corner. After ordering, I asked the waitress where the bathroom was so that I could use it at my leisure — but she was so overly gracious (to the point that everything on the wine was “beautiful,” including the Italian wines) that she immediately offered to lead me there. So I awkwardly left my brunch partner behind, and traipsed through the whole restaurant and past the gift shop to wash off the city grime that had accumulated on my hands during a successful pre-brunch shopping excursion to find caffeine-free espresso grinds (they sell it at Gracious Home). Museums, I’ve found, tend to have boring, overly antiseptic restrooms with white tile and stainless steel, and the New-York Historical Society was much the same. Its one saving grace was a pale, frosted reproduction of a painting of a family — mother, father and child — on the restroom sign, along with the traditional man and woman silhouettes, as well as a special one featuring an adult changing a baby’s diaper. Inside the bathroom, right next to the Koala Kare station, there was a glossy advertisement for the museum’s iPhone and Android app; I can’t say I’ve seen that before.

The menu featured such unique dishes that I had trouble deciding but finally landed on polenta and eggs with a mushroom ragu; the presentation was outstanding, with beautiful poached eggs swimming in mushroom sauce atop the mound of polenta, all framed by two triangles of toasted bread. My meal was tasty, but it sadly did not live up to its description or its appearance. I may not go back to the New-York Historical Society for the food at Caffè Storico, but I’d like to go back to see the exhibits, and I’ll keep its gift shop — one of the best I’ve seen — in mind next time I want to buy some New York-themed tchotchkes.

Restroom Rating: [rating=1]

 

Guggenheim Museum

I’d heard people say the Guggenheim Museum looks like a toilet — thanks to my bathroom blog and unexpected new-found appreciation for modern art (what has NYC and / or “old age” done to me?!), I get it now, making it fitting that I used one of the tiny restrooms in its spiraling galleries when I visited the Maurizio Cattelan “All” exhibit.

I’m not exaggerating when I say the Guggenheim’s onesie restrooms, found on each level, are tiny. They’re seamlessly built into the museum’s curved architecture, and there’s such little leg room between the toilet and the wall that I had to turn sideways to use it. And I am not what I would call tall, nor do I have long legs; in fact, I’m quite the opposite — an average, long torso-ed type of girl. This unconventional angle, however, gave me a smashing view of the vessel holding the liquid soap beneath the sink: perfect for a modern art museum, it was full of a gorgeous mixture of pink and gold, faded together in a perfect gradient, much like you’d expect Mark Rothko to produce, if he were ever inspired to make a painting called “Sudsy Sunrise, Tequila, No. 1.” Another noteworthy feature was that the sink was fastened to the wall by two pieces of metal on either end, leaving a gap between the sink and the wall — this is something haven’t seen before. Overall, the bathroom was nothing fancy — very ordinary fixtures, no clever decorations — but these things made the otherwise standard restroom stand out from the crowd (although not always in a good way, because turning sideways to use a toilet is just weird).

The Cattelan exhibit was fantastic, but it ends on January 22. My post comes a bit late to serve as a proper advertisement, but if you live in NYC and have a bit of time between now and then, I’d highly recommend it. The installation is composed of a bunch of random 3D pieces, all suspended from the museum’s glass ceiling, and as you spiral upward, you catch glimpses of things you didn’t notice from the lower levels, including the flock of faux pigeons nesting all over the exhibit. It’s pure genius. I’m so glad I didn’t miss it (Thank you, BVR, for the telling me about it), and it’s just another sign that I really “get” this modern stuff these days.

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]

Locanda Verde

My department from work doesn’t often go out together, despite us being a bunch of friendly and fun ladies (and a sole guy), so I was excited to hear we’d be having an official team dinner at Locanda Verde in TriBeCa (377 Greenwich St.) to celebrate my boss’ momentous move across the country (learn more about that here), because I really enjoy margaritas, tortilla chips and salsa. Well, despite the deceptive “loca” and “verde” in the name, Locanda Verde is an Italian restaurant, and a very fine one indeed, complete with a warm, glowing restroom that matches the candlelit mood of the Halloween-ready, pumpkin-bedecked dining room, where a real live fire crackles in the hearth.

Museum of the Moving Image

Growing up in a household where at least 98% of the films we watched were in black and white means that I regularly suffer the humiliation (if I were the easily embarrassed type) of not knowing anything about the popular films made during my youth — which, in turn, meant that I was unfamiliar with basically everything at the recently renovated Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria. I mean, really, they had Mrs. Doubtfire’s fat suit on display, and I’ve never seen “Mrs. Doubtfire.” But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the moving trash image (the trash literally moves to create an image of you as you pass by!) or the extremely hip, very spare, whiter-than-white restroom.

I’ll admit that even I, the self-proclaimed Porcelain Princess, am sometimes too lazy to snap photos of bathrooms. I just wasn’t feeling it this particular day, but as soon as I saw the stark white door with 3-D black block letters spelling “WOMEN,” I knew the camera had to come out of my bag. And whoever redesigned the Museum of the Moving Image did not disappoint.

Inside, everything was white, with the exception of stainless steel fixtures that might ordinarily seem boring and commonplace, but in the midst of all that purity, they seemed dazzling. It didn’t hurt that the faucets were also uniquely shaped, very square, angled pieces that would be a Cubist’s dream. My favorite part was the long bench in front of a mirror that took up the whole wall. I think benches are one of the coolest, yet useless, pieces of furniture. They’re low to the ground and don’t have backs, so they aren’t really very enticing as a place to sit. Especially in a museum bathroom. Who wants to just hang out in there, chewing the fat with your best pal while she rinses her hands, when there are Muppet exhibitions to be seen? Still, though, there’s something I like about benches, and the way they’re so uncomplicated and fit so neatly against a wall or under a coat rack. Don’t be surprised if, someday, all the walls in my apartment are lined with benches — and I would really love a white one like the bench in the bathroom at the Museum of the Moving Image.

Restroom Rating: [rating=5]

American Museum of Natural History

It’s funny how much restrooms at large public establishments differ compared to restrooms at small locales — sure, a museum needs to provide a much bigger bathroom (or bathrooms) than does a restaurant that can get away with a couple of onesies, but you’d think that, ordinarily, the money coming into these significantly larger venues would be proportionate, and therefore they could afford to invest at an equal rate in their bathrooms to make them more than antiseptic, stainless-steel boxes. But no.

I will, however, give the American Museum of Natural History a couple of props: first, the sinks were arranged around a convex semi-circle rather than a straight line; second, the mulberry-colored soap (mulberry-colored soap?!) came out of these funky pod-like dispensers, which very well may become the next big fad in public restroom accoutrements, as did those space-age hand dryers where you dip your hands DOWN instead of holding them under the blast of hot air. (For the record, I hate those things — I’m a diehard fan of Xcelerators; yes, I have opinions about hand dryers.)

It was also clever that the toilet flush valves told you how much less water they used than ordinary flushers. As the daughter of a plumber, I am used to people getting excited about top-of-the-line toilets and septic system safe toilet paper — my family was environmentally friendly, as far as our sewage was concerned, long before it was hip.

As far as the museum itself, this was my second trip, and I really enjoyed it. I’ve gone both times with kids under the age of 7, so there hasn’t been much time to absorb all of the information posted by the exhibits. We stumbled upon the Hall of Asian Peoples, which was incredibly fascinating — I didn’t know there was more than animals, and I look forward to going back to explore the halls of all the different cultures from around the world. And maybe I’ll follow it up again with a trip to Shake Shack, which is just around the corner; I need to check out the restroom there…and maybe eat a burger, yeah?

Restroom Rating: [rating=2]