The Lovely Lavies of Moto and Smith and Mills

Left: The flip-up sink at Smith and Mills. Right: The elevated toilet tank at Moto.Photos: Melissa Hom and Daniel Maurer

Concept: A rolling door — with overhead wheels taken from an old meat locker — slides open to reveal a reconstructed 1902 elevator which for 60 years sat unused in the shaft of a landmark building on Broadway.
Privacy: Since there’s a one-inch gap above the door, gentlemen may fret that their tinkling (there’s no urinal) can be heard at the nearby bar. A few well-made Negronis eliminates such self-consciousness.
Amenities: A railcar sink that you lift into the wall so the water can drain.
Drawbacks: Press down the trumpetlike taps too hard and you’ll cause the faucet to spray all over your Rogan jeans.
Strategy: If you and your date are looking for “love in an elevator,” wait till the bartender is wrapped up in stirring a Negroni.
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Concept: It would be crass to call this weathered enclosure a shit shack, but that’s what it is.
Privacy: There’s a waiting bench outside of the single WC, so nobody has to lurk near the door.
Amenities: Apple-scented liquid soap, a trash tin that an old sticker indicates is for disposable diapers.
Drawbacks: The rusty faucet, which looks like the sort of thing you’d attach a garden hose to, emits a deafening squeal when activated.
Strategy: If you’re tall enough to hit your head on the “Low Clearance” sign, you’ll have no trouble reaching the ceiling-level tank and flusher. If you’re a little person, bring someone to give you a boost.
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