I’ll be honest, I used to think half bathrooms were just these afterthought spaces – stick a loo and a sink in a cupboard under the stairs, paint it magnolia, job done. That was until I visited my mate Jess’s place last month and walked into her downstairs loo. Bloody hell. It was tiny, maybe the size of a phone box, but it had these deep charcoal walls and this gorgeous vintage mirror she’d found at a car boot sale for a fiver. The whole thing just worked. Made me realise I’d been thinking about these spaces all wrong.
Our first house in Bulwell had this grim little half bath tucked under the stairs – you know the type, beige everything, that weird toilet roll holder that’s always falling off the wall, fluorescent strip light that made everyone look like they were dying. Danny called it “the cave” and honestly, he wasn’t wrong. I’d been putting off doing anything with it because, well, bigger fish to fry and all that. The main bathroom was a disaster, the kitchen needed sorting, the living room still had that horrific floral wallpaper from 1987.
But after seeing what Jess had done, I started looking at our little loo differently. It’s probably the smallest room in the house – I measured it at just under four feet by six feet, and that’s including the door swing. But here’s the thing I didn’t expect – working with such a tiny space is actually liberating. You can’t fit much in there anyway, so every decision has to count.
I started by ripping off that awful textured wallpaper that was peeling in the corners. Underneath was this patchy plaster that needed sorting, but nothing too dramatic. Danny thought I was mad when I told him I wanted to paint it this deep teal colour I’d seen in a magazine. “It’ll look like a dungeon,” he said. But I’d watched enough YouTube videos by then to know that dark colours can actually make small spaces feel more intimate rather than smaller. Sometimes you’ve got to trust your gut.
Found the paint at B&Q – Dulux Heritage Teal, reduced because they’d mixed too much for someone else’s job. Fifteen quid for enough to do the whole room twice over. Bargain. The woman at the paint counter even looked at me funny when I said what it was for. “Very bold choice for a downstairs loo,” she said, like I was planning to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel or something.
The transformation was mental. That rich, dark colour made the white toilet and basin look properly crisp, not just builder’s basic. And because the room’s so small, you get the full impact as soon as you open the door. No gradual reveal – just bam, you’re in this cosy, sophisticated little space that feels completely intentional.
Lighting was the next challenge. The old fluorescent strip made everything look ghastly, but the ceiling’s too low for a pendant light and there wasn’t much wall space for sconces. Eventually found this brilliant brass flush mount at a reclamation yard in Arnold for twenty pounds. The guy there said it came out of an old pub, and it’s got this lovely warm glow that bounces off the teal walls perfectly. Makes the whole space feel like a proper room rather than just somewhere you go to spend a penny.
Storage was tricky because there’s literally nowhere to put anything. The previous owners had one of those toilet roll holders that stores extra rolls behind it, but it was this cheap plastic thing that looked awful. I ended up building a simple floating shelf above the loo – just a piece of scaffold board from the builders’ merchant, sanded down and stained to match the mirror frame. Cost about eight quid and gives us somewhere for a small plant, some decent hand towels, and a little ceramic dish for rings when you’re washing your hands.
The mirror was another Facebook Marketplace win. This gorgeous art deco thing with an etched border that someone in West Bridgford was getting rid of for thirty pounds. Bit of a faff collecting it – had to borrow my brother’s car because it wouldn’t fit in ours – but it’s become the star of the whole room. Much better than those boring rectangular ones you get at B&Q.
Here’s what I learned though – in a space this tiny, you can get away with things that would be completely over the top anywhere else. My neighbour Kate did hers with this dramatic black and white geometric wallpaper that would be overwhelming in a living room, but works perfectly as a feature wall behind the loo. Creates this brilliant focal point that stops the space feeling like an afterthought.
Another mate of ours went completely mental with theirs and covered the ceiling in this vintage-style botanical print. Sounds mental, doesn’t it? But because you’re only in there for a couple of minutes, it’s more like stepping into a jewellery box than living with busy wallpaper every day. Bold choices work in these spaces because they’re not somewhere you spend hours at a time.
Floor was the last bit to sort, and this is where having a tiny space actually saved us money. Those posh cement tiles I’d been lusting after for the kitchen? Way too expensive for sixty square metres. But for the four square metres we needed for the downstairs loo? Suddenly manageable. Found some gorgeous ones with this subtle pattern at Topps Tiles end-of-line sale, and even at full price it would only have been about a hundred and fifty quid for the whole floor.
Installation was straightforward enough – watched a few videos, borrowed a tile cutter from Danny’s mate, got it done in a weekend. Made one mistake with the spacing around the loo base, but because everything else was straight lines, you can’t really tell unless you’re looking for it. And let’s be honest, most people aren’t examining your grouting technique when they pop to the loo.
The finished result is honestly one of my favourite rooms in the house now. Sounds daft saying that about a loo, but there’s something satisfying about transforming such a small, unloved space into something that actually makes you smile. Every guest comments on it, which never happened with the old beige cave. And I find myself actually enjoying the few minutes I spend in there – sounds weird, but it’s become this little sanctuary that feels completely separate from the rest of the house.
Total cost was probably around two hundred pounds, which included the paint, light fitting, mirror, shelf materials, and tiles. Not exactly pocket change, but spread over a couple of months it was manageable, and the impact per pound spent has to be the best return on investment of any room we’ve done.
The main thing I learned is that these tiny spaces are actually the perfect place to experiment. Want to try a bold colour but worried it won’t work? Half bath is ideal – worst case scenario, you’re repainting one afternoon’s work rather than a whole room. Fancy some statement tiles but concerned they’ll date quickly? Much easier to change four square metres than an entire kitchen floor.
I’ve helped a few friends with their downstairs loos since then, and the principle’s always the same – treat it like a little jewel box rather than just somewhere functional. Don’t be afraid to go dramatic, invest in one or two really lovely pieces rather than lots of cheap accessories, and remember that people are only in there for a few minutes so you can get away with choices that might be too much elsewhere in the house.
Sometimes the smallest projects give you the biggest buzz, you know? And there’s something quite British about turning even the humblest loo into something a bit special.
