"There's Free Champagne in the Ladies' Room."

That's what our waitress told me when I asked her where the bathroom was, right before pointing me in the right direction. Ed and I were sitting down for a late dinner at the ultra-trendy Beauty and Essex, one of the most bizarre, glamorous, thoroughly New York-y restaurants I've visited in my coming-up-on three years of living in New York.  We'd been to see my friend, the fabulously talented and award-winning songwriter Greg Tannen, play a great set at the Living Room on the Lower East Side. (View a video from his show here.) B and E jumped out at Ed during his routine Zagat search for restaurants in the vicinity of where we happened to be.  We discovered that the first available reservation wasn't until 10:45 (on a Monday night?!) but determined to just go and try our luck as walk-ins.  The place sounded like a must see.

Accordingly, after the show we walked a block and found ourselves in front of a bright sign that told us we'd come to the right place. Visible through the window was the false pawn shop promised by Zagat through which one must walk to get into the restaurant. Really. Why? I have absolutely no idea, but on the way out after dinner I admired a Rock 'Em Sock Em' robot game in mint condition, a Fat Albert doll, and tons of costume jewelry and guitars. Two bouncers in suits escorted us through a door that led us from the somewhat garish (if stylishly so), brightly lit "pawn" shop into a dark, polished, unbelievably trendy bar area. A huge chandelier, nearly two stories high, graced the center of a staircase that curved up out of sight (and led, we were told, to another dining area and bar). We were deposited at a table right away by a young, fashionably dressed and made-up hostess, despite its being only 9:00.  Ed and I didn't talk much at first, overwhelmed by the blaring music, extensive cocktail list, tantalizing menu, and unparalleled people-watching. We seemed to be just about the oldest people in the place, and perhaps the most casually dressed, too. The waitresses were generally young and stylish in short dresses that draped off their shoulders and gathered at their waists. Female patrons were dressed to the nines, and their male counterparts were fashionable as well, though less overtly so. 

I finally settled on a drink called The Earl Pearl (or something like that) which featured, among other things, vodka and Earl Grey tea.  Ed ordered a tasty concoction in which Woodford Reserve was prominently featured. We then sipped, and sifted through the menu, which was dominated by tapas-style small dishes. Most offerings were intriguingly creative and it was tough to narrow down our choices. At last, we settled on an interpretation of tuna sashimi from the raw bar, fried oysters, a side of brussel sprouts served in hazelnut butter, and a lobster pot pie. And after the waitress had taken our order, we had the bathroom discussion.

Bathroom champagne bar

I eagerly trotted down a wide, curving staircase and through a door marked simply "W." The bathroom was enormous, given that it only had four or five stalls. Since my trip was motivated just as much  by nature as by the call of free champagne, I took care of business first.  My stall had its own small chandelier in it (seriously) and when I emerged, I found that there was another, much larger one above a lounge area consisting of several alluring couches. I washed my hands in a spotless sink, admiring the vintage, glass perfume bottles which decorated the wall in front of me. Then I made my way to a round red bar where I was handed a glass of prosecco by a smiling bartendress. Daaaaamn.

Main dining area

Back in the dining room, our food arrived in two courses and every mouthful was decadent. We had just enough room for dessert, so Ed ordered a box of doughnuts, which turned out to be six balls of fried, sugary dough slightly larger than golf balls, arranged in a box and filled with either Nutella or raspberry jam. They were delicious. I selected the butterscotch pot de creme, and the waitress congratulated me on a "good choice." It arrived in a jar with two "spoons" which tasted like ice cream cones and were too flimsy to use but very tasty nonetheless. There was a dollop of marscapone on top and a decadent layer of solid butterscotch at the bottom. It was absolutely heavenly. 

Beauty and Essex left us tipsy, stuffed, and full of things to talk about. Though it was pricey, I highly recommend it, for the experience if nothing else. A couple could order a cocktail and an appetizer or two, and the chance to view actual New York socialites (and wannabes) would make it well worth the price.

My dessert (with spoons)