How posh is your loo? Take out quiz and find out
When we were growing up there was a vogue for cramming loos full of entertaining things. Witty items (for there were no smartphones, there was no Instagram). Loo books: piles and piles of them, each stickier and more yellowing than the last. And bottles of scent: each staler than the one before.
Giorgio Beverly Hills in its sugary, yellow-and-white-striped splendour. Small sculptural mounds of glued-together soaps; cracked, blackened, hairs of those who had gone before nestling in the crevices. Hand towels that weren’t washed, just rehung.
We spend a lot of time in loos, don’t we? Sometimes hiding/taking selfies/giving ourselves a talking to, or else sweatily struggling with zips, maybe having a quick cry. And loos are not what they used to be.
They are cleaner for a start, now that our bond with disinfectant wipes represents one of the most important relationships in our lives. And emptier, praise be. So we know a thing or two about stuff that just shouldn’t be there.
Linen towels
So you bought them in a French marché and they are vintage and initialled. You have put them out for a dinner party and, although you’d love everyone to believe that this is how you live, after one use they are disgustingly smeared and crumpled.
Wet dishrags
Hanging there saying, ‘Iron me.’ Or rather, ‘Repasse-moi maintenant,’ shrugging Gallic-ly at you.
Hand cream
Every now and again you think, ‘Gosh, I must moisturise my hands,’ because you know, GNARLED CLAWS. And so you see some in a loo somewhere and use it. And you are thrilled, thinking, ‘Of course, that’s why there is always hand wash and matching hand cream, it is so civilised.’
Except with your slippery, freshly moisturised hands you can’t open the door. And when you finally escape, you pick up a glass, which immediately slides back on to the table, and then you have to wipe your hands on your new skirt, which you don’t realise until later is dry-clean only. And you remember why hand cream is evil.
Cuddly toys
Oh, hello, Valentine’s teddy cuddling a large, red heart. Oh, look, it’s a vast, incredibly flammable penguin won at a funfair that doubles as the dog’s paramour. In fact, bits of it are definitely crusty. Also, dolls… What are they looking at????
A lit candle
Unattended, unattended, unattended. Don’t you think we’ve got enough to worry about?
Dried flowers
Is it time to have a conversation about these? There is something morbid and horrific about your crunchy, dead granny flowers sitting on the shelf of your bathroom, absorbing all the… action. They have clearly been there for years. Enough.
Speakers
Yes, we know you’ve wired up your whole house, but while Café del Mar is fine when chatting round the kitchen island, it is distinctly murdery when you’re sitting alone on the throne. What are we meant to do? Dance?
Thoughtlessly placed mirrors
Is there anything more awful than closing a door, sitting down and suddenly catching sight of the horror that is you on the loo? Gollum crossed with Jabba the Hutt. Quite hard to recover from this moment, actually.
No phone signal
What is even the point of going?
Framed motivational quotes
You know the ones that stare at you accusingly and make you feel crap about yourself: ‘Collect moments not things,’ they say, and you think, ‘Hold on, I quite want those biker boots with the fake pearls so I can wade in fashion’s shallows pretending to be a pirate.’ Or, ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight,’ and you think, ‘Oh God, but I am tired, so tired.’
Books
Thumbed. Sweaty fingerprints. Unidentifiable stains. These are no longer OK. The ship has sailed.
