I knew I had to remodel my bathroom the morning I realized I was brushing my teeth sideways because there was no room to face the sink. My bathroom was the size of a phone booth. Don’t believe me?
Try showering in one. When you pull open the tiny bathroom door and a wave of claustrophobia washes over you, you know things need to change. My tiny bathroom was this way when I moved in two years ago.
The previous owner had installed a protruding pedestal sink with a medicine cabinet that opened into your forehead and a shower-tub combo where you couldn’t shower without practicing hair washing Yoga moves. Don’t get me wrong, it worked.
Fine.
Showering happened. Mirrors didn’t fall off. But it wasn’t happy.
Living in it every day was not enjoyable. It all began when I doodled a napkin during lunch. Ok, ok.
They were less doodles and more detailed sketches of angles and dimensions of where I could rearrange things to maximize space. My coworker Sarah saw me scribbling away at what appeared to be blueprints to a bathroom next to my turkey sandwich and asked if I was thinking of becoming an architect. “Uh no,” I replied “just remodeling my bathroom to fit my entire routine into six freaking square feet.” Step one was obvious. That pedestal sink had to go.
I spent three weekends researching vessel sinks, measuring the space twice (thrice) a day with a tape measure that migrated into permanent residency in my back pocket. I ultimately decided on the Kohler Veil wall hung sink. It was chic and minimalist and it would free up roughly 18 inches of floor space.
It was pricey at £340 but I had already calculated how much money I would save on therapy visits by punching my bathroom every morning. Installation was a lesson in futility. First you have to mount it to the wall, which means you have to find studs.
Bless those who invented stud finders but when you have wallboard over studs over plaster in a 1960s construction house it’s a pain. Tom (my neighbor whom I actually think was excited that someone else was screwing up DIY blasphemy) lent me his stud finder. Three holes into my wall (only one in the stud) I had it mounted.
Bonus, the exposed plumbing below looked super modern and intentional. Those 18 inches of horizontal space changed my life. I could actually turn around without hitting my head on the towel bar.
Step two was vertical storage. When you have a small bathroom you go vertical or you go crazy. Cue the Ikea Ivar shelves.
The unfinished pine ones. Yeah, everyone mocks them but they’re awesome and they would fit PERFECTLY in that half strip beside my toilet. Three shelves for £25 wasn’t too shabby.
And I could customize the spacing between shelves to fit whatever I needed. But I took it one step further. Instead of mounting them normally, I flipped the shelf brackets upside down and created a “ladder” style shelving unit.
Bottom shelf: toilet paper. Middle shelf: towels. Top shelf: toiletries.
And since the shelves were open rather than boxed in, it didn’t feel cluttered. The wood finished matched the warm tones in my shower curtain and threw rug, softening the industrial white tile. I solved medicine cabinet issues by completely removing the old medicine cabinet, which was recessed about two inches into the wall.
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It wasn’t recessed deep enough to be helpful but deep enough to create weird grooves that aged everything around it ten years. Instead I found this adorable Pegasus medicine cabinet at B&Q that was marketed for surface mounting but wasn’t thick. It cost me £89 but BOY did it open up medicine cabinet space.
Now I had triple the storage AND counter space around my mirror. Installation required patching the old hole and… well. Let’s just say not everything went according to plan.
Drywall patching was another DIY skill I had to learn. YouTube became my best friend that weekend. After two patches and one breakdown over uneven plaster coat, my wall was smooth enough to mount my new medicine cabinet.
Showers are tough in a tiny bathroom. I couldn’t afford to take out my tub and install a stand-alone shower, but I also couldn’t deal with those corner shower caddies that always fall down OR block your shower head. So instead I mounted a tension pole shower caddy from floor to ceiling in the back corner.
I sprung for the Simplehuman one at £120 but holy cow it works and doesn’t look DIY like I rushed to Home Depot and bought whatever. I also installed some magnetic strips inside my shower for extra razor storage. Sounds ghetto until you realize you can buy industrial strength magnets that won’t rust.
BAM. Invisible storage that keeps your stuff put. Lastly I replaced my lighting.
It used to be one of those frosted glass “halos” that make everyone look like death. Instead I installed three separate light fixtures: LED strip light behind the mirror for task lighting, then a mini pendant light above the sink for ambient lighting, and finally battery operated LED light strips inside my shower for visibility. Choosing a color scheme was the most fun.
I had swatches all picked out and stowed away for white/light neutral everything until I was scrolling through paint colors online and happened to see Farrow & Ball’s Card Room Green. The sales lady eyed me suspiciously when I pulled up to the paint counter with a chip the size of Florida but sometimes you just gotta go with your gut. Or in this case your paint swatch.
I only painted the wall behind my toilet, creating an accent wall that wasn’t overwhelming. But man, did it change the space. Not only did the green make my white fixtures pop, but it actually made my bathroom feel bigger.
And here’s a pro-tip: hooks, hooks, and more hooks. Behind the door. On the side of the medicine cabinet.
On the back of my toilet tank (don’t knock it til you try it, hair dryer fits perfectly). Anywhere I could find started storing towels, robes, baskets, you name it. All in all, it took me three months and about £800 to go from depressing bathroom to totally livable.
And by livable, I don’t mean SPACY.
My bathroom is not spacious. But it’s functional.
I can brush my teeth facing forward. I can grab my towel without breaking into yoga poses. My morning routine is half the time it used to take.
The best part? EVERYONE compliments my bathroom now. I get stops at home all the time asking how I got my bathroom to “feel like a spa.” Know who ALSO thought that?
My bud Jake. The same Jake that took a pee every morning before work in my evil-phone-booth-of-a-bathroom. When you work with what you got and every detail has a purpose, small spaces can feel so much more luxurious than having an EXTRAORDINARY amount of space but nothing that functions.
