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Tribeca Grand Hotel - at the intersection of Church St. and 6th Ave. at White St.
Walk with purpose straight back towards the concierge. Take a right down Asian-inspired stairs to the floor below and a left past the elevators, and a mood descends: darker, soothing and clean. A preparation for the business at hand. Jog left, and the entrance is ahead.
My first thought is that I’m not in the right place, or I’m in a super fine apartment of some sort. Ahead are four stainless steel urinals arranged in a circle, facing the wall, each facing a mirror for users to peruse themselves or others. From top to bottom iridescent gold and green tiles line the walls. The effect is serene. Up top, a circle of blue dimly illuminated by hidden fixtures give the impression of a hopeful sky. I stand here for longer than I should, but no one else is around. I want to use all the urinals they are so beautiful, but I peed at my office. Damnit!
I didn’t even have to go. Just wanted to sit and take it all in. Something moved me. It was unexpected. The space had worked its magic. Did I mention the handicapped room? Yes, it’s a room. “Stall” is way too vulgar here. A large door, of the same style as the others, leads to a private abode complete with its own sink and room for a party of at least four wheelchairs. Also, if you’ve got a baby in your care that needs some changing, there’s plenty of room to put the little one down on the counter. No ‘changing tables’, but plenty of counter space. Time to wash up. I love nice soap. Couldn’t quite place what this one was, but ginger wafted up. I washed my hands three times at that sink. Then two more time at the eight-inch wide faucet. When you’re alone in a bathroom, the sky’s the limit. I really didn’t want to leave. I know that’s weird, but check it out, you may understand. |
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After an unsuccessful attempt to find this mellow palace the other day, I gave it another go armed with some precision Mapquest information. The first thing you notice about the downtown Manhattan neighborhood of Tribeca is the high, even for NYC, number of ladies who look good, and know it. In my two days there, I was astounded. I suppose that’s reason enough to visit here, but let me mention a couple more. If you’re inclined to spend a lot of money, there are nice restaurants like Landmarcdood. Some sandwich shop I passed called Compass (I think) had a line out the door for over an hour. What else... well, maybe just general site seeing of an historic industrial part of New York. And with that, we now have a need for a extra fine WC.
The Tribeca Grand building itself is unremarkable. You might pass by in the midday heat without a glance. It’s the young-and-beautifuls whisking about outside and in through the doors that give it away. Enter though heavy rotating doors, or allow the young thin doormen to welcome you through the enormous pull-style entrance. A treat of what’s to come.
Upon entering, a mirror greets you with yourself. A sensor turns on an eight-inch wide cascading faucet tumbling into the four-foot wide solid stone sink--one of three. This is no mere bathroom.
Ahead is the second sink. A double. Solid Stone. Enormous mirror. I turn the faucet. No noise. The water runs silent. Silent. To my right are two doors. Heavy. Wooden. With a swirly, mellow golden design for the glass. Inside each is a pleasant surprise. Do you remember the toilets from any public school in America? White, with black seat, power flush. It’s startling to see them here, but it works. The reason is the mint condition they are in. Perfect blackness, perfect whiteness. I don’t know if anything can look so good together as black and white. The shininess of the toilet is offset by matte black subway-style tiles, a personal fave of mine, and a sparkly rough rock floor which went unnoticed until I sat.