You know that feeling when you’re standing in your bathroom at half past six in the morning, seven months pregnant, trying to keep your three-year-old from flooding the floor while you brush your teeth, and you just… hate everything about the space? That was me every single day until about three months ago when I finally did something about those soul-crushing magnolia walls.
I’d been living with the previous owners’ decorating choices for nearly two years – and by decorating choices, I mean they’d slapped magnolia paint on every surface and called it a day. The bathroom was particularly grim. Imagine the most boring doctor’s surgery waiting room you’ve ever seen, add a dodgy extractor fan that sounded like a helicopter taking off, and you’ve got our upstairs bathroom. Every morning felt like getting ready in a beige prison cell.
The thing is, I’d been putting off doing anything about it because proper bathroom renovations are expensive. Liam and I had looked into retiling – got a quote for nearly three grand just for the main bathroom. Three grand! When you’re paying nursery fees and trying to save for baby number two, that kind of money might as well be a million pounds. So we just… lived with the beige. And complained about it. A lot.
Then my sister-in-law Sarah mentioned she’d done her downstairs loo with wallpaper over one weekend, spent maybe sixty quid total, and it looked amazing. Wallpaper in a bathroom though? My first thought was about all that steam and moisture – I had visions of it peeling off in strips while I’m trying to bath Amara, which is chaotic enough already without bits of soggy paper floating around.
But Sarah showed me photos and honestly, it looked incredible. This gorgeous William Morris style botanical print that made her tiny downstairs toilet look like something from a magazine. She explained about vinyl-coated papers and how different modern wallpaper is from the stuff our mums used to have that would peel if you looked at it wrong.
I started researching properly – spent way too many evenings scrolling through wallpaper websites while Amara watched CBeebies. Turns out bathroom wallpaper has come on loads since the 1980s. You can get properly washable stuff now, vinyl coated papers that handle steam no problem, even paste-the-wall options where you don’t have to mess about with mixing adhesive and getting covered in gloop.
The moisture thing was still worrying me though, so I pestered the woman at the wallpaper shop in town with about fifty questions. She explained that placement matters more than anything – you wouldn’t put paper directly in the shower obviously, but walls away from the main splash zones are absolutely fine if you prep them properly. Made sense when she put it like that.
I decided to start small with our downstairs loo because if I messed it up, at least it’s not somewhere we spend much time. Found this beautiful botanical print online – deep greens with gold accents that reminded me of those fancy hotel bathrooms you see on Instagram. Cost forty-three pounds for enough paper to do the whole tiny room, which seemed like a bargain compared to retiling quotes.
The application was so much easier than I’d expected. This paste-the-wall stuff is brilliant – you literally brush the adhesive onto the wall, then hang the dry paper. No wrestling with soggy strips or trying to line up patterns while everything’s sliding about. I did it on a Saturday while Amara was at my mum’s, had it finished by teatime.
The transformation was incredible. This tiny, boring room suddenly had personality. It felt warm and welcoming instead of clinical. When people used it, they’d come out asking about the wallpaper – where I’d found it, how difficult it was to put up. Our friend Dave spent ages studying the botanical details while I was making him coffee. Never thought I’d get compliments on our downstairs toilet but here we are.
That success gave me confidence to tackle the main bathroom upstairs. This time I went bolder – found this gorgeous navy and white geometric pattern that somehow made the room feel bigger. Instead of doing all the walls, which would’ve been overwhelming and expensive, I just did the wall behind the sink area. Created this amazing focal point that draws your eye up and makes the whole space feel more expensive.
The prep work is crucial though, and this is where I nearly made a expensive mistake. You have to seal the walls first with a moisture-blocking primer – it’s like insurance for your paper. I also made sure our extractor fan was actually working properly, not just making noise. Turns out it was clogged with about five years worth of dust and wasn’t moving much air at all. Liam sorted that while I was doing the priming.
Application tips I learned the hard way: start with the most visible wall first while you’re fresh and focused. Keep a damp cloth handy because paste drips dry clear but still leave marks on dark papers. And measure everything twice because bathroom walls are wonky – our house is Victorian so nothing’s actually straight, which you don’t notice until you’re trying to match patterns at corners.
The impact was immediate. My morning routine went from dreading that depressing beige box to actually enjoying those few minutes getting ready. Having something interesting to look at while you’re brushing your teeth sounds silly but it genuinely makes a difference when you’re in there every day. Even Amara likes it – she calls it the “pretty bathroom” now.
Cost wise, both rooms cost me about a hundred and sixty pounds total, including all the prep materials and new brushes. Compare that to thousands for retiling and you can see why I’m converted to this approach. Time wise, it was two weekends – one for each room – instead of weeks of disruption from builders.
The washable surfaces mean I can actually clean marks off with a damp cloth, which is essential with a toddler who thinks bathroom walls are for drawing on. The papers have held up perfectly through daily showers, my occasionally very steamy baths when my back’s killing me, even when Amara “helps” by splashing water everywhere during bath time.
I did make one mistake initially – ordered this detailed damask pattern for the main bathroom that was way too busy. Beautiful paper, but overwhelming in a small space where you’re seeing it up close every day. Had to return it and go for something with a larger, simpler repeat. Sometimes less really is more, especially when you’re dealing with limited square footage.
One thing nobody tells you is how quickly this becomes addictive. I’m already planning the next room – eyeing up some gorgeous grasscloth textures for our bedroom that would look amazing behind the bed. The best part is it’s not permanent like tiles or built-in features. If your taste changes or trends shift, you can strip it off and start again without major expense.
If you’re thinking about trying this, honestly just do it. Start with a small space where the stakes feel lower – downstairs loo, maybe just one accent wall. Get comfortable with the process and see how it feels to live with the change. I promise you’ll be planning your next wallpaper project before you’ve finished cleaning up from the first one.
Trust me, your morning routine will thank you for it. And when you’re heavily pregnant and exhausted, having one space in the house that actually makes you smile when you see it… that’s worth more than any amount of money saved.
