Wednesday, April 26, 3 a.m. "Time to break the seal." Unsavory language, I know, but a legitimate problem. Everyone's been there. I hold out for as long as possible, not wanting to kill my buzz by waiting in line, but we're celebrating my birthday at Tao's Sutra Wednesday so it goes without saying that I've been imbibing just a tad.
Inspecting my outfit in the downstairs ladies-room mirror, my eyes play a trick on me—I'm staring at the front of a man's pants. "That's it, I'm cutting myself off." But no. Bending down to investigate, I find that the wall between the men's and ladies' rooms has a sizable gap spanning the length of the vanity. A young guy, equally curious, returns my look of surprise with a smile and a wave, then goes about washing his hands. Out of respect, I stop looking at his crotch and move on.
Whether large or small, coed or very obviously gender-oriented, nightclub restrooms are morphing into funkier, more stylized and more interesting places to be. Let's face it, we're all going there at some point—we may as well enjoy it.
While I can't give firsthand accounts of the men's facilities, I've sure heard a lot about them, especially when excited first-timers to Mix Lounge at the top of Mandalay Bay's The Hotel race back to the table, raving about the view. "I'm sorry, did you say 'the view'?" I inquired at the lounge's opening, wanting very much to disturb the peace and barge into the men's room to see what all the fuss was about. While a few of the women's stalls (more like suites) afford a nice vista, I hear tell the men's room allows one to take in that view while also taking care of business.
"Don't forget the urinals at Cherry in the form of cartoon mouths," urged Weekly Associate Editor Martin Stein, a man about town himself and one more qualified than I to talk urinals. In Cherry's ladies room, I experienced the latest in bathroom stall fashions. On approach, one thinks: "Okay, that's a clear glass door!" But when closed (and locked; don't forget to lock it or you'll be giving folks a better view than the one from Mix), the whole thing frosts over into a smoky opaque that obscures you from disappointed voyeurs.
If a bathroom itself could be in any way sexy, it's a tie between Tabú and Tryst for their dark and unique designs, though Pure also gets props for its private restroom in the Red Room's Owner's Suite, as well as for fostering equality; on most nights, the men's room line on Pure's patio exceeds that of the ladies' by a mile.
Some clubs really mix it up. In addition to traditional facilities, Body English and Seamless Gentlemen's Club offer ones that are about as communal as it gets. Nothing separates the urinals from the stalls—also with the fog-in doors—inside Seamless' slick indigo and blue creation, where by the way, each urinal sports its own LCD screen so one needn't miss a second of T&A. Coed restrooms are an established trend in restroom design, putting men and women together in a situation almost as uncomfortable and flustering as those encountered at the bar or on the dance floor. I prefer to think of the ladies room as a sacred, hallowed place for resting, conspiring and getting yourself together.
But not all clubs are trying to foster coed potty relations. Some would rather point out our differences in the clearest of language.
Ivan Kane's Forty Deuce takes separating the genders to an entirely new level with blunt humor. Somewhat incongruous to the club itself, which pays ruffled and bejeweled homage to the fact that we will pause any conversation to watch a woman strip, the restroom doors are marked by the proper medical terms for one's—as a British friend of mine put it—"bits and pieces." Naughty bits and pieces. But see for yourself if a little toilet humor doesn't make even the hippest chick or too-cool-for-school fool crack a smile.
I'm all for Vegas clubs paying some extra special attention to the original ultralounge, but the day they begin offering bottle service, I'm holding it until I get home.
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at
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