A Bathroom Fit for a Queen

—Trainspotting

Although we have become accustomed to Harvard standard-issued bathrooms of white porcelain bowls, institutional black seats, and the need for shower shoes to protect us from those communally transferable infections which may be lurking in the grout of our showers, there exists to this day a haven of tranquility in which we can do our business in style. Located at 12 Quincy Street, snuggled in a valley of opulence between the Barker Center and the Faculty Club, there rests a small yellow building which was allegedly once the house of an eccentric Harvard professor with a penchant for abolition and defecation. The house is rumored to have once been a stop on the underground railroad to Canada, but it is also famed for its second floor toilette.

Upon entering this bath of antiquity, it is immediately obvious that one has stepped back in time to a place long forgotten. An era of Americana which hearkens back to the days of skilled iron work and detailed engravings to pride the finest guildsmen.

The toilet is accentuated by its hand-crafted wooden seat, a throne designed according to the highest standards of excellence and comfort. It is defined by a leveraged flushing box, floating majestically above the seat and operated by a lavish gold side-chain. The bowl itself is adorned with intricate etchings, carved by a skilled New England craftsman. As one rests upon the seat, attending to those bodily neccessities that occupy a small part of everyone’s day, one is pleasantly surprised to reach for the iron cast toilet paper holder, aside which sits a feature we all have dreamed of: “the buzzer”. This doorbell-like utility used to summon thy man servant eliminates the fear that at some point we may need to knock on the stall next to us and utter those prolific words, “Do you have a square to spare?” And yet, the toilet is just one of the many jewels in this lavatorial crown.

The bathtub, a fine piece of iron work itself, appears not to have been constructed for the use of a sole bather, but is rather a bathtub built for two. With a depth of nearly three feet and a girth of two, we can only imagine what the Puritanical inhabitants of Cambridge were practicing in this space. Looming above the tub, is a bizarre 25 spout water dispersal array which appears to have served as the shower head. Anachronistically placed among this grandeur is a garish post-modern emblem of mass production—a Scott’s hand towel dispenser. This haphazard addition has clearly been an unthoughtful juxtaposition to this otherwise palatial facility.

On Robin Leech’s evaluation of this bathroom, he would have remarked in his pretentious British accent, that this is a bathroom to be recognized the world over. The Versailles of toiletry. Bob Villa would have examined this fine handiwork and exclaimed with glee, “My Lord, this is an old house!” Continuing in the line of accredited domestic credits, Martha Stewart herself would have ogled at the excellent placement of potpourri and tasteful use of mosaic floor tiles. Whether you be on the run, or have the runs, this is a pilgrimage of plumbing all Harvard students should make at some point during their excretory career.