All summer the sidewalks of my neighborhood, the Uptown area of Minneapolis, were a maze of Jersey barriers and construction equipment as a number of large building projects took shape. A few are street-level retail stores, but the remainder are upscale apartment buildings. This kind of development is a sign of the area's health, though it does make me wonder if I'll feel like a stranger among all the $50 haircuts that will eventually inhabit the buildings.
As one of the buildings, the Uptown City Apartments, edged toward completion this fall, I noticed a banner on the fence around the perimeter announcing the start of pre-leasing. It also listed the stylish features found inside: "Hardwood floors...Fireplaces...Granite island kitchens." All very nice indeed, but what caught my eye was the building's claim to have "Sexy bathrooms." For the most part, calling something "sexy" ceased to be either attention-grabbing or descriptive long before angel-wing-wearing Victoria's Secret models became part of an evening of network television.
But calling a bathroom sexy is not something that has fallen into clichè—I've never heard anyone use that particular phrase before, which is perhaps a little surprising considering how many other lifestyle elements sexiness has conquered so far in its relentless march. That the arrival of the sexy bathroom did not come sooner is also a surprise because it works pretty well as a piece of marketing; I think we all get at least a foggy image of what a sexy bathroom would look like—you know, lots of marble, gold fixtures, a hot tub, etc.
It's easy enough to picture this in Donald Trump's penthouse. But is that really what these bathrooms will be like, and is it actually what people moving into my neighborhood expect these days? I wondered if this was a trend that had perhaps escaped my notice, a distinct possibility, considering the fact that I haven't ever been in the market for a luxury apartment. A quick Google search for "sexy bathroom" to investigate whether this is in fact the next big thing proved neither helpful nor pleasant. However, the Uptown City Apartments do have a website, which elaborates a bit on what features make their bathrooms sexy.
The sheer amount of marketing gibberish and hyperbole on the site made me suspect at first that the sexy bathrooms are nothing more than an over-the-top way to describe a nice, but fairly pedestrian commode. A blurb describes Uptown as having "the edge of New York and Chicago combined with the freedom of San Francisco and the diversity of Miami." Though I'm rather fond of the area, even someone who has never set foot in Minneapolis can recognize this as a comically extreme overstatement of the neighborhood's cosmopolitan credentials. It also goes on to claim that Uptown "offers a funky and eclectic mix to both hipsters, high-achievers and Harley riders." Aside from the bad grammar, I suspect that only two of those three resident stereotypes can actually be found in the vicinity.
The theory that the sexy bathroom is just a normal bathroom puffed up by the marketing department is reinforced by the fact that some other parts of the apartment are identified by names that show a bit too much eagerness to differentiate the building from boring, average rental properties. I had to look carefully before I figured out that the portion of the unit floor plans labeled "Your Great Outdoors" is in fact the porch or patio attached to each apartment. Bedrooms are called "Snooze Rooms," which sounds silly enough on its own, but becomes altogether too much when used in the phrase "Master Snooze Room." However, a page with the amenities included in the apartments lists some actual features to back up the bathrooms' claim to sexiness. There is indeed a "cultured marble countertop," fitting right in with my vision of a Trump bathroom. Also arguably sexy is the "36 inch soaking tub," if scenes from numerous movies involving women soaking in bubble baths are any guide.
There weren't any good pictures of the bathrooms to be found on the website, though, so I ended up going to the leasing office to get a better idea of what they really look like. Ben, the agent who was staffing the place, put to rest my doubts that the bathrooms fully deserved their title, and in fact made it clear that the designation was meant to be much more literal than I had been taking it to be. It seems the bathrooms are designed for two people. This goes beyond just having two sinks, however—bathtubs are spacious enough for two, as are the showers, which even have dual shower heads. The showers also have seats built in, though I must admit that I was under the impression sitting down in the shower was just the last step before sponge baths at the nursing home. Only the toilet itself is intended as a solo affair. Additional touches like candle holders placed around the room and very un-bathroom deep scarlet walls complete the package.
It turns out that features like these are actually a trend, if Village Green, the developer of the property, is any indication. Ben told me they are building these elaborate multi-person bathrooms into new buildings done for their "City" brand, which is aimed at hip urban markets, which apparently includes my neighborhood.
"We're not really going for the suburban types," Ben explained, "We're going for people who want to have sex in the bathroom."
Teague Lyons (teague@professoryeti.com) is an accomplished wintertime bicyclist.
