If there’s one thing I hate about walking around in Italian cities, it is that if I need a toilet I have to go inside a bar and pay for an espresso. There are very few public bathrooms, and most are in horrible condition.
But now a brand new luxury solution has sprung up in Naples, the last of all places I would have expected it. I was in town for work a few days ago, strolling across Naples’ buzzing historical district, when I bumped into this new place called quite fittingly Se ti scappa, meaning literally, “If you can no longer hold it in”.
I approached what looked like the entrance to an underground station. I put in a one-euro coin and the sleek glass doors opened. Out came a receipt, which shocked me. No one in Naples ever gives receipts.
The interior was divided into five incredible toilet spaces – three for the ladies, two for the gentlemen. A column with green and red flashing lights indicated which ones were occupied. There was music in the background and the whole thing was disconcertingly elegant. It looked like the bathroom of a five-star hotel. The walls had mosaic-style tiles painted grey and black, while the translucent windows had streaks of bright paint.
A local Neapolitan woman who had just finished doing what she needed to do in there was on her way out when she saw me looking around.
“If you’re looking for the owner, he’s not here,” she said to me. “But he’s a
really good guy. This was his wife’s artisan shop and he turned it into a toilet for us. What a great person.” Then she walked off, happy, refreshed and no longer needing to hold anything in.
When I shyly stepped into my little one-euro private WC room I was
transported, mesmerised. I stood there for about 15 minutes in a state of
cultural shock, looking at the round mirror, and the white modern ceramic
sink with the fine shining metal spout, reminiscent of Renaissance fountains. Yet what struck me the most was the impeccable hygiene. You don’t even get that sort of cleanliness in the private clinics of Milan or Rome. And this in a public toilet. In Naples?
Then I remembered why I came there in the first place. Once the task was accomplished, I approached the sink, washed my hands – choosing from a variety of sweet-scented soaps – and dried them. There were soft little paper towels. I neatly placed mine in a bin after use.
Behind a glass cage were displayed bathroom amenities of all sorts to boost client comfort. Placing a few extra euro coins inside a vending machine, I bought a tiny citrus perfume, some hand cream, a toothbrush and toothpaste. There were also pads for the ladies, deodorants and packs of tissues.
Maybe the only things missing were a shower and hairdryer, but I guess
that would have been too much to ask for. Oh, and a final espresso out at the
exit would have been great, too.
The tiny corridor of the WC shop was decorated with Neapolitan carnival masks and funny puppets of laughing skulls, made by a local artist. I thought those were totally out of place, but probably it’s part of the local sense of humour.
When I walked out, feeling nicely pampered and ready for some shopping, I read the sign on the wall greeting clients, which I had missed earlier on.
It said: “In here, every single detail is curated with love because Naples is
an experience intensely felt with passion.” I agree. Here, even the toilet matters.
