My New Favorite Bar Is As Breast-Obsessed As I Am

Boobie Trap has reminded me that objectification can be fun when you're in control of it (and when you're surrounded by literal objects).
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Boobie Trap has reminded me that objectification can be fun when you're in control of it (and when you're surrounded by literal objects).

boobietrap-sign

It's been -- what -- five minutes since my last article about boobs? Well, first of all, sorry, not sorry. Second of all, the vast majority of the articles I write are not breast-related. Third of all, this is not one of the vast majority (see: "first of all," above).

I love boobs! I mostly love how they look, because I haven't touched anyone else's -- at least not on purpose. (My elbow has definitely gotten to accidental second base on the subway.) I love Jonathan Adler's pottery tribute to them. I love that we can proudly assign a variety of meanings to them -- sexual, maternal, and with their loss, triumphant in survival. And I love that there are other people who love them as much as I do.

Emily is one of those people, and while she and I both think street harassment sucks (understatement), we're both cool with some consensual objectification. (Emphasis on sensual, am I right, Emily? Did things just get weird? Sorry.)

Unfortunately, Emily was not able to join me last night when I went to Brooklyn's new breast-appreciation hotspot, Boobie Trap.

That's badass (badboobs?) owner Kristen North doing business-y stuff outside the bar. 

That's badass (badboobs?) owner Kristen North doing business-y stuff outside the bar. 

Hilarious, awesome, tattooed Lily Allen lookalike and veteran bartender Kristen North owns Boobie Trap, and she's been damn sure to make it feel more like a laid-back, kitschy wonderland than a place where women can expect to feel ogled. Why ogle women when you can ogle the cheap drinks, great BBQ, and breast-themed-dollar-store-exploded-in-here decor?

Here's a terrarium with a boob stress ball, a unicorn and a tiny soccer ball. Three great tastes that taste great together!

Here's a terrarium with a boob stress ball, a unicorn and a tiny soccer ball. Three great tastes that taste great together!

I sat with my friend Sonny at a table with a built-in Sorry board, and I could see that the guys at the table next to us had a checker board built into theirs. But that doesn't mean they were obligated to play checkers -- oh, no! They chose, instead, to play a high-speed stream-of-consciousness version of Connect 4.

Since when are there yellow game pieces?

Since when are there yellow game pieces?

Breast art flanked by some of the many boardgame options, including a Care Bears one! I forgot that existed!

Breast art flanked by some of the many boardgame options, including a Care Bears one! I forgot that existed!

Boardgames are all well and good, but we hadn't trekked from Park Slope to Bushwick just to play boobless games.

Luckily, Sonny noticed a rack of pages from "Color My Boobs," a coloring book she immediately recognized from her days as a buyer at the Museum of Sex's gift shop. 

Unshaven and unashamed, those coloring-book ladies.

Unshaven and unashamed, those coloring-book ladies.

We got a box of crayons from one of the two male bartenders -- no ladies in scanty uniforms here -- and went to work on our chosen pages. I'm more of a colored-pencil girl, but I can work with what I'm given. Almost everything was ruined when the brown crayon became saturated in sangria and fell apart, but, against all odds, we made it through. (That never would've happened with a colored pencil. Just saying.)

Sonny expertly completed these two masterpieces:

The one on the right says "The Itty Bitty Titty Committee Meets Here at 9PM," lest you were concerned that Boobie Trap celebrates only big boobs.

The one on the right says "The Itty Bitty Titty Committee Meets Here at 9PM," lest you were concerned that Boobie Trap celebrates only big boobs.

And for some inexplicable reason, I was drawn to color in this attractive illustration:

It's like looking in an exhibitionistic, slimming, well-accessorized mirror. (Her beauty mark was on the wrong side, though.)

It's like looking in an exhibitionistic, slimming, well-accessorized mirror. (Her beauty mark was on the wrong side, though.)

Sonny's girlfriend, Alissa, joined us as the sun was setting, and they ordered some BBQ stuff. They served it, like, three minutes later (we were super-impressed), accompanied by a Guinness six-pack case filled with sauces and napkins wrapped in pipe cleaners, which made Sonny lose her damn mind from the sheer cuteness of that detail.

I made them pose for a picture feeding each other, but I like them way too much to put it on the internet.

I made them pose for a picture feeding each other, but I like them way too much to put it on the internet.

Boobie Trap is airy but small, so we thought we'd seen all there was to see, short of Kristen's living quarters, which are behind one of the bar walls (seriously). In addition to the casual, non-threatening atmosphere, I was pleasantly surprised by the balance of boob-kitsch and kitsch-kitsch. 

You belong here, too, rollerskate planter. 

You belong here, too, rollerskate planter. 

But that's when I realized I hadn't been in the bathroom. And with that brief trip, the kitsch scales were decidedly and wonderfully tipped in favor of boobiness.

This is the breathtaking ceiling of the bathroom. Not pictured: a jar of colorful hair elastics on the back of the toilet reading "HAIR TIES PUKE FACE."

This is the breathtaking ceiling of the bathroom. Not pictured: a jar of colorful hair elastics on the back of the toilet reading "HAIR TIES PUKE FACE."

Boobie Trap is a bit out of the way for me, and I live in Brooklyn, so I understand if you non-New-Yorkers think you'll personally never make it there. But after a relaxed evening that reminded me that objectification can be fun when you're in control of it (and when you're surrounded by literal objects), I would be remiss to not recommend it to you if you find yourself in the area.

What are your favorite local bars with fun and/or scandalous themes?