Ep. 24: Pissoirs and Public Urination in Paris
Vive Le Pee: Paris’s Battle Against Public Urination and the Beautiful Urinals That Fought Back
Ah, Paris. The City of Light. Romance. Ratatouille. And... rampant public urination.
Welcome back to Privy, the only podcast bold enough to tackle historical architecture and hygiene with equal enthusiasm—from the comfort of a toilet. This week, we’re diving into a bubbling French crisis from the 1800s: What do you do when people won’t stop peeing on your beautiful buildings?
You build urinals that double as art. Obviously.
Paris, 1800s: A Timeline of Revolution, Cholera, and Surprise Pee
After helping America with its whole “let’s not be British anymore” phase, France found itself broke, bitter, and building revolutions of its own. Enter Napoleon (yes, the ice cream). He shaped up the country before getting banished for overachieving.
Post-Napoleon, things devolved again:
10% of people held 80% of the wealth
Less than 1% were allowed to vote
The 25% wealthiest voters got two votes
Paris was a beautiful, pee-soaked mess
And in this glorious mess, urban workers—often poor and with no bathroom access—began to relieve themselves everywhere: streets, alleys, walls, works of art. You name it, someone peed on it.
Pee: A Public Problem with Private Odor
Here’s the thing about pee:
It dries weird
It smells worse over time
It actively destroys stonework
As France tried to prettify Paris, urine was literally eroding the architecture. Public peeing was technically illegal, but enforcement was nonexistent. And with no real bathroom access, the masses just kept sprinkling like rebellious fire hydrants.
Enter Claude Filibert Bartholot Count of... Everything
Claude Filibert Bartholot Count of Rambouteau (because apparently every 1800s Frenchman came with five names) decided enough was enough. Alongside modernizing sewage and gas lighting, he gave the people a place to pee—and made it stylish.
Thus were born the Vespasiens.
Named after the Roman emperor Vespasianus (who once taxed urine, because the Romans never did anything halfway), these were public urinals disguised as gorgeous gazebos. They were elegant. Ornamental. And absolutely covered in ads.
You know, for classy peeing.
The Pissoirs: A Marvel of Pee Engineering
Let’s talk architecture:
Looked like Morris columns or garden pagodas
Had privacy screens so you didn’t see Pierre’s peepee
Sometimes gas-lit so you could find them after a night out
Started as just a hole, but eventually added compartments and stalls
They were urinals for the people, elegant in both form and function. Romanticism wasn’t just about love—it was about peeing like an aristocrat while still being broke.
But Then Came the Downside
Vespasiens were amazing… until they weren’t.
By the 20th century:
Indoor plumbing improved
Vespasiens started to smell like the inside of a toddler’s Crocs
They were only designed for those who stand to pee, so… not very inclusive
People began using them for, ahem, other business
By the 2010s, only one Vespasien remained in Paris. The rest were replaced by sanicets, those sleek, futuristic, self-cleaning toilet pods of today. Efficient? Yes. Gorgeous wrought-iron latticework? No. Zero romance.
Bathrooms Should Be Beautiful
Hunter’s verdict? If you're going to make a public bathroom, make it art. The poor deserve nice things too. If we must relieve ourselves in public infrastructure, at least let it be a place that could double as a Paris Fashion Week venue.
Takeaways from the Toilet Timeline
Public bathrooms matter.
People will pee where they can.
Fancy urinals might not solve everything, but they sure are prettier than concrete slabs.
Make bathrooms inclusive. And maybe make them gorgeous while you’re at it.
And for the love of France, if you pee in public, don’t do it facing traffic.
