Even with pink shoes, a furry zebra skin bum bag, and Randy Macho Man Savage shades, Rabbit Rabbit cafe refused to sync with my kitsch. The deluge of pink extended to everything but the kitchen sink, at first glance saccharine and pathetic. But lo', what treats awaited!
Adorning the polka-dotted pink walls are caricatures of famous icons as if they were rabbits. Madonna, Kiss, the Beatles. And of course Hitler! Swastikitsch!
The exposed glaring bulbs of their chandelier win the ugliest Stab At Decency award, runner-up only to post 9/11 America. This dysfunctional lighting atrocity is like taking a country of voters, and placing them on couches. Then stripping them of all civil rights.
Voilà! The decline of Western democracy explained through lamps.
Hitler kitsch.
So cute!
Enough fluff. Onward to the
raison d'etre. Shit and piss. Keeping with the failure of form and function theme, Rabbit Rabbit offers unisex toilets. Something that is at once awkward and inappropriate given the hutch like crawlspace of their restrooms. Though pleased to finally put my knowledge of ballet steps to use, the person opposite me couldn't quite execute the requisite
demi-plié to avoid a disheartening full body swipe as we both clogged the entrance / exit like a toilet mid-plunge.
The bathroom stalls were 1950s diner style, with a touch of trailer park trash. The entire space was reminiscent of Anne Frank, but eerily cute. Like a child built a restaurant out of used dollhouses. I was hoping to look up and see a star sky in this hutch, but alas, the roof just rained loud electro hop, destroying all hope.
I actually have a rabbit at home and she is neither pink nor a Nazi. She is adorably fluffy and just goddamn lovely. Rabbit Rabbit needs to decide if they want to sell food, fascism, or fluff.
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