skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Friends of The Stool Pigeon might wonder during visionary moments "Why stop at see-through bathroom walls? When will clear toilets follow?"
Yes it's real. No you can't have one, yet. It's a trade show prototype. But only for now. This is the dawning of the age of Aquariyuck.
Look at that sexy plumbing. This tell-all commode reminds me of my Tupperware and how little time it takes for it to become permanently stained. Parents of toddlers might do well to invest in a mini version, for those proud photo uploads to Facebook.
Good that we have a wrap-around shop window here, so that when room service brings that bucket of bubbly, he or she can be treated to the sight of you at work on your bikini shaving. Maybe Ivy's staff is trained to give helpful intimate grooming tips.
"You can avoid those little red bumps you've got by shaving with the grain of the hair."
If one absolutely must have a glass bathroom door, which specific bathroom necessity would one logically put directly in front of it? I have to put on my face-punchingly hip interior designer hat to figure that out.
Would it be the sink, where the user's back would be turned to the viewer at the door? Or the innocuous towel cabinet? Maybe even a flirtatious peek of the bathtub? Nononono, you hopeless style bumpkin! The toilet goes there, of course! Squarely facing the crystal clear door. This fosters well-mannered household communication. Instead of yelling rudely through an opaque door, the person on the outside can simply mouth "How much f*cking longer are you going to be in there?" and have his or her words lip-read by the seated occupant.
Okay, just don't even look at the potty playing peek-a-boo at far right. I WANT TO BE IN THAT SHOWER RIGHT NOW! A fireplace?! And up to 10 showerheads simultaneously raining warmth and joy from all directions? Can't talk now, getting naked...
A design firm in King-Of-Prussia PA offers this to their wealthy clientelle, and it goes by the undeservedly low-brow name "car wash shower." Move over cars, I am turning on every nozzle and setting the water pressure to "stun." Each one of those inset black squares is a shower nozzle. I don't see a drain anywhere, so maybe it drains by elven magic.
When Mr. Hopper and I take our shower, we lament having only one nozzle, and having to do the your-turn-my-turn routine. This is the first thing ever to appear in this blog that I simply can't snark upon. But at least there's the robot toilet with sensors that open the lid when you approach, and flush/close when you leave. Way to foster lazy lav habits. Requisite snark out of the way, everyone in the shower!
This cheerless and utilitarian booth from a design firm in Paddington NSW is clearly a showroom model. Let's grab our crayons and draw in, presumably on the floor since there's no shelving, what we'd see if we had a photo of a typical-use home installed model:
-Damp towels
-Pile-up of empty shampoo and conditioner bottles in shower
-4-pack of TP with one roll half used
-Tampon box
-Crusty toothbrush cup
-Hardened loofah sponge
-Embarrassing ointments
-Stack of year-old magazines
-Near-empty pump bottle of hand soap with water added to extend life
Oh, why go on? Opaque bathroom walls were invented not just for privacy, but to spare those outside the bathroom the sight of our homely but necessary stuff.
Here we have a design for a wee studio apartment intended for an occupant who lives alone. Everything in one small yet understatedly elegant room. On the one side of the room we find the necessaries, lined up neatly in a row. Across the room we find the sleeping area and recessed kitchenette. The lone occupant can be free of space-severing internal walls, creating the illusionary feeling of a roomier abode. Oh Pavel, how inclusive of you to design for people who have no friends!
Yet we have the difficult conundrum this establishes for our bachelor or bachelorette. He or she would like, ever so much, to find friends, and maybe even that special someone. But, should that actually come to pass, and invitation over would eventually be expected. What to do then?
The Stool Pigeon recommends a Japanese folding screen and a can of Glade.
Not having context leaves us with some uncomfortable mysteries about this strange pair of glass-enclosed chambers. On the right we have our visi-loo, with a "privacy" partition seemingly on the wrong side of the toilet. On the left we have a lumpy futon. But what to make of the eeire emerald lighting? I don't want to see anyone who put their makeup on in there. Looks like the staff had to quickly grab a replacement lamp from the Red Room. How curious, but no longer really surprising, the way the chambers seem to be facing onto a public corridor. And most importantly, what's behind the curtain? You want to find somewhere else to stay, Dorothy. And your little dog, too.
Great cookout, Ralph! Thanks for inviting us!
Sure thing! Great turn-out, eh? Still pretty crowded out back by the fire pit.
So, was the house like this when you bought it? The bathroom, I mean?
That? No, we put it in custom. A fella's gotta have some reading light in the morning, right?
Um, well, you're design expert, I guess! *ahem*
Welp, better get this chlorine washed off.
I think we'll just go around front...
The only way these photos from the restaurant lavatory of the Sofitel Hotel in Queenstown, New Zealand could be any better is if they could talk.
"Hi, little man! What's that you have there? Ooh, I need to lean in closer. Oh my, I think I know! Isn't that soooo cutesy wootsy! I just want to tie a little red bow around it. And look, my friend is taking your picture. Smile! Hey...wait...come back! Really, I like you! Where are you going? OH NO YOU DIDN'T just take a leak in the sink! Pig! Just wait 'til I tell all the girls!"
Look very closely....can you see the toilet and bidet in the cool, enshrouding blackness of this somber comfort chamber? Can you make out the faint contours of the two sinks, like unto morose pools of tears in this open floor plan expression of the designer's nightshade-poisoned soul? Can you even tell there's an image posted above?
One wonders how efficient flossing could possibly be in here. What it lacks in enclosure it makes up for in dim recessed lighting from Ikea, no doubt very forgiving after an absinthe or three. Jet black toilet paper exists -- The Stool Pigeon has seen it. I want to gaze into one of those mirrors and softly chant "Candyman...Candyman...Candyman...."
