The bachelor pad is one of those subspecies of residential design that continues to fascinate. Thanks to an abundance of classic examples, especially onscreen (post-war American cinema has spawned a rich tradition of apartments-as-aphrodisiac that stretches back at least as far as the Rock Hudson vehicle Pillow Talk), by now even the most slack-jawed junior hedge fund trader recognizes that the fairer sex is vulnerable to the charms of good interior design. But even with well-formed intentions (good or otherwise), the results can be disastrous when the aspiring lothario is left alone to try to match the pillows to the drapes. Anyone who’s ever been to a young finance guy’s place probably knows the model: a sprawling FiDi loft with a futon in one corner, a poster of the Bud Girls opposite the door, and a fridge empty save for a case each of Smirnoff Ice and citrus Vitamin Water. Fortunately (or unfortunately) there’s now a firm with these helpless guys in mind: Sexy Bachelor Pad.
Wish that we were kidding, and yet this Manhattan design firm seems to be on to something as they cash in on all this (once? and future?) brand of moneyed cluelessness. Courting an exclusively male clientele, SBP sums up their services in simple mottos even a finanderthal could understand, including, “You got her home. We’ll make sure she stays,” and “Trust us. You need our help.” Images on the firm’s Spartan website skew heavily toward the copious-votives-and-exposed-brick school of decorating. One assumes leather couches and lots of dark wood are probably also de rigeur.
On one hand, SBP’s service is not so different from that offered by any architect who recognizes the seductive potential of design (cf. Sylvia Lavin). The difference is that in a building by Oscar Niemeyer or Paulo Mendes da Rocha, seduction is normally a byproduct of the designer’s vision, and not the end itself. Even Carlo Mollino’s boudoirs [NSFW!] had a clarity of concept and a material and spatial ingenuity that transcended the carnal acts they were designed to inspire. Above all, good architects design houses for living, not just sex. In a way, the directness of what Sexy Batchelor Pads offers is like the bottle service of interior design: a brash, flashy way to quickly get an easy message across to a very particular (and likely very tipsy) audience. What it would be like to actually live in an SBP creation is anyone’s guess. To find out, you’ll have to schedule an appointment. Don’t forget your Y chromosome.