I Reviewed Every Bathroom That Matters In D.C. So You Don’t Have To
The Inn at Little Washington is a three star Michelin restaurant tucked into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The head chef’s culinary masterpieces have donned the palates of titans like the Queen of England, French Ambassador Gérard Araud and, yes, even Blake Lively. When I first experienced the Inn’s rendition of an enduring classic–sweet potato casserole!–my taste buds wept for joy in the hands of entirely new sensations. Everything about the restaurant is whimsical and unique, from the plush linen tablecloths to menu letters spaced so perfectly they made my shoulders relax. The dining room itself was living poetry: disparate but somehow collaberative mixes of bold colors and textures cast a spell on my entire family.
When the head chef, known as “The Pope of American Cuisine”, was asked to describe the difference between a two and three Michelin star restaurant, he explained, “In a two star restaurant, everything is superb. The ingredients are wonderful. The preparations are exquisite. But, I always say, there’s just a sort of feeling in the air–the French call it ‘Frisson’, electricity, in a three star Michelin restaurant. Like when the curtain goes up, and you have a really great star performer.”
I think it’s the same with bathrooms.
The revelation occurred to me when my family had Thanksgiving dinner at the Inn. My Mom hit the restroom right after we ordered and came back looking star struck, as if she’d just met Judie Dench while reapplying her lipstick. “Why are you so happy?” I asked. She held out a hand for me to sniff. I leaned in and inhaled a delicate aroma that painted images of mountain peaks and waterfalls in my mind. "It's white tea from the Himalayas," she gushed. "Bvlgari. You have to go check out the bathroom." I practically fell in my haste to get up.
What I experienced next was a complete release from every earthly emotion apart from elation and awe. The bathroom was transcendent. The atmosphere was intimate but not claustrophobic, the decor was classic yet distinct. Woodland scenes of birds and botanicals adorned the walls, Bvlgari hand lotion beckoned from the sink, and Bach’s orchestral suite played along with an olfactory symphony of orchid and magnolia. I’ve never vacationed at a luxury château in the Swiss alps, but I’ll never need to. Exotic shearling blankets and a eucalyptus infused sauna would offer nothing the bathroom hadn’t already given me. They say life all comes down to a matter of moments, and this was one of them. I wondered if I’d ever feel so euphoric in a bathroom again.
Two years later, at a French bistro in Austin, I did. The restaurant itself was charming enough, but when I pushed through a green lacquered door and into the powder room, I was speechless. As I breathed in the woodsy undertones of bergamot and cassis wafting from a custom Boy Smells candle, it suddenly dawned on me: truly great bathrooms can be so simple they’re profound. All it took to make the small space feel special was cedar hand soap, checkerboard flooring and glazed pink and navy subway tile. As if the retro-edgy vibe wasn’t enough reason to linger, Tame Impala thumped through a subwoofer mounted above the toilet, daring me to never leave. Suddenly, chills shot down my spine. A current swept through the air. The lights on brass sconces flickered. Bottles of lotion rattled. Could it be…Frisson?
The French bistro reignited two questions that had been burning in my brain since The Inn at Little Washington: what exactly makes for an unforgettable bathroom experience, and where could I get my fix of Frisson in Washington DC? Last weekend I decided to force my way back into bathroom bliss by touring fifteen of DC’s finest hotel lobby restrooms in search of the “it” factor. My discoveries were shocking.
I nailed down four guiding principles that helped me evaluate each environment. The following are critical conditions for, but not necessarily guarantors of, true bathroom brilliance:
Cleanliness: the bathroom must be so clean that even eating off the floor wouldn’t put you in the hospital.
Ambience: it must be intentional. Quirky, elegant, colonial–whatever. If it even slightly resembles a Starbucks bathroom, it’s dead to me.
Amenities: This is anything skin comes in contact with, including soap, hand towels, lotion, faucets…in essence, it’s the difference between visitors being invited to pluck a freshly laundered, cotton hand towel from a wicker basket or–God forbid–having to pull a crusty, brown paper towel out of a metal dispenser.
Automatic disqualifier: a Dyson blade or hand dyer of any form. I value my health and well-being. If you’re confused, Google it.
Below is the topline bathroom breakdown. I’ll walk you through the good, the bad and the ugly. First up:
THE UGLY
The Ritz Carlton
The Ritz Carlton was begging to be put on blast with its churlish assaults on my peace of mind.
Is that really what you’d expect from the luxury empire where Kim Kardashian lays her head? Nothing says “we don’t care” like Softsoap from Dollar Tree.
The Four Seasons (Georgetown)
No, this isn’t your 32 year old brother’s bachelor pad. This is the “timeless luxury experience” offered by the Four Seasons, welcoming you to be “the center of their world with a distinctly human touch”.
Eaton
It’s amazing how such a little gadget can steal years off your life span every time you use it.
Viceroy
These guys pride themselves on always having strived to create the best experience for their guests. Their website boasts: “Now, more than ever, we’re taking that to heart with Viceroy’s Promise of Cleanliness. For the wellbeing of our guests, colleagues, and communities, our promise is to put our passion and energy into notably increasing the standards of cleanliness at our hotels.”
I’ve seen cleaner commodes in Shell stations.
Ritz Carlton (Georgetown)
We’re doubling down on the Ritz because it’s that important. This was the sole work of art hanging on the wall leading to the bathroom.
It reminds me of the mold that I begged my landlord to come deal with, but instead he just gasslit the hell out of me and told me to paint over it.
The Willard
Speaks for itself. I’ll let your imagination do the rest.
THE BAD
The Riggs
Potterheads, here’s your proof that Azkaban is real.
I’m still recovering from the stroke I had when Sirius Black’s reflection popped up in the mirror.
Four Seasons (West End)
Have you ever wondered if padded cells are a thing of the past?
The Four Seasons West End would tell you “absolutely not”.
Trump Hotel
Look at these images. How does it make you feel?
I personally have gotten more emotional over a bathroom at Nordstrom. Yes, the marble is pristine and the gold is intriguing, but something about the atmosphere induced a nagging fear that I was about to be shipped off to a boarding school in Connecticut. That’s when I realized it reminded me of a rich step-mother: extravagant but ice cold.
The St Regis
Every inch of this place sparkled. Regardless, I may as well have been in the lady’s locker room at my parent’s Platinum Status Lifetime Fitness. Great potential. Zero personality.
I could go on, but once you’ve seen one monotonous bathroom you’ve seen them all. At this point in my odyssey I’d lost faith in finding anything close to the “it” factor. I’d snuck past many a’ mustachioed concierge, but nothing hit the mark. Where were the sparks I so desperately longed for?
THE GOOD
Hay Adams
I sensed something was different as soon as I traipsed into the lobby. Fresh cut white roses were displayed on nearly every surface. It smelled like hope. I went down a flight of marble stairs, passed a lifesize mural of corporate wonks in suits, and stumbled into this delightful surprise.
I made a beeline for $40 Asprey soap and savored, for the first and last time on my journey, a real cotton hand towel. As I basked in the orchid’s sweet nectar aroma, it was easy to imagine myself as a guest in Julia Child’s Provençal home. “Drama is very important in life,” she once said. “Everything can have drama if it's done right. Even a pancake.” Even a bathroom.
The Jefferson
Another star performer came on stage with a bang two stops later.
This hidden jewel wasn’t just functional, it was inimitable. Jazz played overhead and called to mind long, rainy afternoons in New Orleans–the kind Tennessee Williams calls “a little piece of eternity dropped into your hands”. I wanted to linger, to camp out with my laptop and work remotely from the stall. Some could take or leave the portraits of colonial women on the wall, but at least the bathroom had something interesting to say. It was a polyphony of history and charm that sung, “we’ve been expecting you, and we’re glad you’re here.”
In Conclusion
Let’s be real. Everyone loves achieving Nirvana in a really great bathroom. The experience is rare, which is why I had to mine fifteen hotel lobbies to find even just two diamonds in the rough. But I got my fix of the “it” factor, the Frisson, that experience I craved after finding it twice before. As for the other contenders, now you know. Don’t ever trust 5 stars. Go by that electric feeling in the air.
Epilogue: The Full Line-Up
Day One
The Four Seasons Hotel
The Ritz-Carlton Georgetown
The Ritz-Carlton West End
Rosewood
Yours Truly
Day Two
The Line
Dupont Circle Hotel
The Willard
The Riggs
The Jefferson
The Hay Adams
Eaton DC
The St. Regis
Viceroy
Waldorf Astoria
