The sign reads: THE SEXIEST WC ON EARTH
So, what do you when you see such a sign? Well, you gotta go. And for a fee of one euro, that’s just what I do.
The Sexiest WC (water closet, or washroom) on Earth is located in Lisbon at Terreiro do Paço square. It’s part of a marketing campaign by Renova, one of the Europe’s leading consumer brands. Renova produces, among other things, coloured toilet paper providing consumers with the opportunity to co-ordinate their toilet paper with their bathroom decor. And we all need to do that right?
I read about this sexy washroom before heading to Lisbon, so when I spot the facility behind one of the many outdoor restaurants in the square, I am excited. I am anxious. I can hardly wait to experience The Sexiest WC in the World. What an event this is going be!
With an ear-to-ear smile, I walk down the dimly-lit corridor. Waiting at the end of a counter filled with rolls of brightly coloured toilet paper is a young woman sporting two dark-coloured braids and a nose ring, who asks, “Are you using the facility?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“It’s one euro,” she says.
I dig through the various coins in my wallet and come up with the required funds. She takes it from me and leads me past a large canary-yellow fountain. A rainbow-coloured wall of toilet paper is to my left. She opens a door, tells me the light will come on when I enter, and instructs me to step inside. I do as I’m told.
The lights reveal wood-paneled walls on three sides, and a mirrored wall on the other. And a toilet. And a roll of red toilet paper.
I paid a euro for this. I take my time. I sit and take pictures. Of a wooden wall. And a mirrored wall. And later a toilet. Did I mention the red toilet paper?
I spot a sign that reads, “WIFI connection.” So I try to connect, successfully. From the toilet. Yeah, technology. But where is the sexy part?
Outside, by the canary-yellow communal hand-washing fountain, I meet three young women from Holland. They're in fits of giggles.
“What did you think? Was it sexy enough?” I ask.
“We’re not sure what to make of it,” says one of the women.
“Me neither. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it,” I tell them.
Like little girls in a playground, we all laugh. Mostly because we paid a euro for nothing more than the sheer pleasure of wiping ourselves with red, or green or pink toilet paper.
“Can you take a picture of us?” asks another of the women.
“Sure. By the toilet?”
“Yes. With the toilet paper.”
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