God, it was a pretty and preppy building. On the outside there was a fountain spraying the brightest blue water I had ever seen. The lobby was huge and filled with warm, wooden furniture. Inside everything was clean and formal but chic and nice at the same time. How cool it would be to be allowed to work here…
Last week I walked into the office building of one of my potential clients. A big one. If this client chose me, it was going to be a huge step for my career. If this client chose me, I was going to be quite rich.
Of course I was a bit nervous.
Of course I was early.
Of course I had to pee.
And so I went to the loo in the lobby. As my morning coffee departed my body I slowly regained my comfort. I was fit for the job and they would want me. All was going to be fine. But as I stood up to pull my pants up… I stared right across the little chamber and saw… my own pubic area… in the mirror…
Huh?
Apparently one of the designers of this lovely office had decided it would be a good idea to place a huge, floor to ceiling filling mirror in all of the little private rooms. But does privacy mean we want to look at ourselves like that?
I never understood this kind of design. It wasn’t the first time I had come across such a misuse of mirrors. In fact there are many more examples. That particular museum for modern art for instance, that has mirrors not only in front of you but 360 degrees around you. Or that store that has only weird designer things. That club downtown.
What to do in such a situation? Where to look to avoid seeing yourself in a way you never see yourself? To stare at your feet seems the best option. People look weird when they sit on the toilet, from the side and from the front. I don’t need to be reminded of that.
Funnily, there’s always one thing those buildings that harbour mirrors in loos have in common. They are the classy offices, the smart stores, the exclusive hotels, the expensive locations. Apparently there’s something stylish about having too many mirrors.
However, it reminds me of perverted macho men that have a large mirror on the ceiling above their bed.
With my mind full of thoughts of insecurity, vanity, unwise design and sick men I stepped into the meeting room. All went well and, hurrah, I am to ‘offer my services’ to them during the next few months. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about those silly mirrors.
Maia suggested it might be an effort to comfort people with claustrophobia. She could be right, but I doubt whether designers care about anyone except themselves, let alone people who have a problem with small rooms. Matt even joked that it would be less of an advantage for people who have voices in their head. To me it’s just a sign that a whole team of designers have made a huge mistake.
An ironic paradox strikes me, though.
It’s funny how in any other situation we tend to find exposure of excessive nakedness to be offensive and rather cheap. But when I’m confronted with excessive amounts of my naked self, all of a sudden now I have to find it exclusive, classy and expensive?
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