Ever spent enough time in a boring beige bathroom to suddenly crave the feeling of salt air in your nostrils? I spent three years inland before I realized my skin was itchy for oceans I couldn’t physically reach. Not the crashing waves and wide-open horizons I missed (although yeah, those too).
I missed how sunshine hitting water changed how bathroom light looked. Softened it. Made everything easier to wake up to at 6 AM.
But living two hours away from an ocean didn’t stop me from wanting my bathroom to feel breezy and effortless. The hard part was discovering there is coastal chic and then there is tacky “gift shop coastal.” You know the stuff.
Wooden plaques that read “Life’s a Beach” and stick-on plastic seahorses mounted above every sink.
Not my style. I wanted ambiance without the ambush. I tackled my guest bathroom first, determined to learn from mistakes.
Mistakes like turquoise paint. Oh God, the turquoise paint. I envisioned serene ocean hues and ended up with primary-school-playroom bright blue.
Our boring old fluorescent overhead bulb reflected harshly off everything, sucking the life and color out of the room faster than you can say “Pinterest fail.” Bless my mother- in-law’s heart, she called it “cheerful” when she stayed with us. I knew it failed. About six months later, we stayed in a rental cottage forty minutes south of the coast.
Their bathroom was small and cluttered, but it had the feel I was going for. Worn wooden shelves painted white but distressed enough to see the wood grain peaking through. Gray-blue walls the color of fog, not Caribbean waters.
A sun bleached-looking mirror framed with twine. Real. Relaxed.
Homey. Distressed wood wasn’t happening in my bathroom, but I loved the color palette. I painted over the turquoise (three coats of primer and I still see blue through the gray… don’t ask me how much that cost) in favor of a soft gray-green with blue undertones from Benjamin Moore’s Healing Aloe line.
Sample pot was £42 plus tax and I picked up two quarts to finish the job. Hands down the best £100 I’ve spent on skincare, no joke. Paint selection was key.
No navy blues or bright greens for me. Nothing that actually looked like ocean or water, really. Benjamin Moore’s site lists Healing Aloe as a gray-green, but that’s simplifying things.
Hue shifts with daylight. In the morning it almost looks sage. By nighttime it turns subtly blue.
The trick is choosing colors that mimic natural light by the water—soft, warm, and ever-changing. After switching out our regular bulbs for those dimmable LEDs I mentioned in my kitchen revamp (more on that someday), I realized that gray-green paint changed color based on the temperature setting. Warm white at night gives the room a cooler vibe than when I plug my “daylight” setting in the morning.
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Basically, two bathrooms in one. Everything else had to be layered in textures that felt coastal, not just looked like it. The towel ladder I snagged from my favorite reclaimed lumber yard is actually real driftwood, holes and all.
Okay, gross. Driftwood holes naturally harbor sea worms. Still, it’s the real deal and costs me £35 plus tax.
After a good scrubbing down and clear sealant, it has the most gorgeous silvery water worn look you just can’t get from new wood. Fluffy white towels tossed over it resemble worn beach house towels more than hung towels. The shower curtain also took some trial and error.
First, I tried canvas drop cloth featuring nautical stripes. Gorgeous when dry, but became see-through and gloopy with the slightest hint of water. Yuck.
Now I use plain white linen from The White Company (£48?! SO WORTH IT) hung from brass rings aged to a beautiful sea-green patina. I got crafty with natural materials.
Bath mat is jute rope braided into a thick pile. Feels amazing underfoot and absorbs moisture better than any synthetic version I’ve tried. Hand soap dispenser is sea glass green ceramic I bought from a local pottery studio.
My toothbrush holder was once a branch I found on a muddy riverbank and sanded down with coarse grit sandpaper. None of these items scream “Pinterest board: bathrooms by the beach,” but all of them suggest weathered pieces worn down by sun and salt. Fixtures.
Lighting. Damn that harsh overhead lighting had to go. I installed two wall-mounted sconces with milk glass shades that cast everything in soft, dreamy light.
Installation via certified electrician cost me £180, but holy crap that’s less than I was quoted by other places. Plumbing fixes aside, this change made the biggest difference in how my bathroom felt. No more staring hatefully into my own soul while hairspray fogged up the mirror.
Speaking of mirrors, that thrifted find you see above was £15 at a car boot sale. As-is, it needed new silvering around the perimeter but that cloudiness actually works for the vibe I’m going for.
Like a warm, hazy summer day.
Frame is untreated wood painted white and then sanded down with fine grit sandpaper to give it a weathered look, not antiqued. For storage, I went with woven wall baskets to hang above the toilet and shower for quick toiletry storage. The fiber itself adds natural texture without being precious.
There’s a vintage wooden crate underneath to stash extra towels, while mason jars (!!! I know, I knowuuuu) house cotton balls and bath salts on a floating shelf. And finally, plants.
Spider plant droops playfully from the windowsill, while a hardy snake plant hides in the corner. They don’t scream coastal by any means, but houseplants make everything feel more alive. Breathing.
And isn’t that what coastal vibes are really about? Being outside.
