Bottom left: the worst toilets we’ve ever experienced.Photo: Melissa Hom
After some duck ravioli and cod fritters at the sleek Thor, inside the Hotel on Rivington, we located what appears to be a sentry box between the bar and the cheery-bright, glass-ceilinged dining room that actually cloaks stairs leading down to a gloomy bathroom lair.
107 Rivington St., nr. Ludlow St.; 212-796-8040
Concept: Three dark water closets on either side of a narrow hallway; they resemble modern monks’ chambers.
Privacy: The WCs, almost as big as a rooms at the Y, are all yours — unless you count the company of your own reflection.
Amenities: Speakers in the ceiling blast the tunes playing upstairs (“This is the end … my only friend”); disposable Thor hand towels thick enough to diaper a baby.
Flaws: Confusing door handles — figurines of male and female peasants (the only gender signifiers) are pushed, not pulled. The automatic toilets are ridiculously high and can cause splashback when they flush prematurely.
Strategy: If you intend on bringing company, perch in one of the two wicker chairs at the foot of the stairs and recon the hallway until the coast is clear.
— Daniel Maurer