God, the morning bathroom shuffle. You know the one I’m talking about – where you and your partner are doing this ridiculous dance around each other, both trying to get ready at the same time, elbows flying everywhere, someone inevitably getting face wash on the other person’s clean shirt. Danny and I did this pathetic routine for literally years in our old bathroom, which had one tiny sink and approximately zero counter space.
When we finally got round to doing the en-suite properly – this was after we’d tackled the main bathroom downstairs and felt like we actually knew what we were doing – I thought sorting a double vanity would be dead simple. Just get two sinks instead of one, right? Ha. If only it were that straightforward.
The spacing thing caught me out first. I’d measured everything on paper, drew it all out properly, even used those little scale cutouts you can print off Pinterest. But somehow I’d completely failed to factor in that Danny basically turns into some sort of windmill when he’s washing his face. Arms everywhere. Our bathroom fitter – lovely bloke called Steve who’d done work for our neighbours – took one look at our morning routine and suggested we needed at least 30 inches between the sink centres. Then he watched us both getting ready one morning (bit weird but necessary) and immediately said we should push it to 36 inches if we could manage it.
Best advice ever, honestly. You think you don’t need that extra space until you’ve got it, and then you wonder how you ever managed without it. Especially if you’re like me and your skincare routine involves a lot of vigorous face scrubbing and general flailing about.
But then we hit the height problem. I’m about 5’4″ on a good day, Danny’s just over 6 foot, and standard vanity height is apparently 32 inches, which suited neither of us particularly well. We ended up compromising at 34 inches, which mostly works though I still have to go on my tiptoes sometimes when I’m really getting stuck into my cleansing routine. Steve mentioned these adjustable height mechanisms you can get, but honestly that felt like massively overcomplicating things, and I’ve seen them in other people’s houses where they get all gunked up with toothpaste and hair product and stop working properly.
The storage situation turned into a proper negotiation. Turns out having separate sinks is only half the battle – you need completely separate storage zones too, otherwise you’re still getting in each other’s way. My side ended up with much deeper drawers because, let’s face it, I’ve got an absolutely ridiculous collection of serums and creams and various potions that I’ve convinced myself are essential. Plus all the hair tools – straighteners, curling wand, that weird rotating brush thing I bought off Instagram and used twice. Got one of those pull-out drawer organizers from IKEA that keeps everything visible, which has honestly changed my life because I can actually find things now.
Danny’s side is much simpler because his routine consists of toothbrush, razor, bit of moisturizer if I nag him, done. Shallower drawers worked fine for him. We kept the middle section as shared space for towels and backup supplies – you know, the industrial-sized bottles of shampoo from Costco, spare toilet rolls, that sort of thing.
Made one massive mistake though, which still bugs me now. Didn’t plan enough counter space around each sink. We’ve got maybe 18 inches either side, which seemed reasonable when we were planning it, but once you factor in soap dispensers and toothbrush holders and that random collection of products that somehow multiply overnight… yeah, it’s not enough. If I was doing it again – and please God I never have to gut another bathroom – I’d insist on at least 24 inches of clear counter space per person. Live and learn, I suppose.
The mirror nearly caused our first proper renovation argument. I wanted one massive mirror spanning both sinks because it looks clean and modern and expensive. Danny wanted separate mirrors so we wouldn’t fog up each other’s view when one of us was showering. We compromised with two mirrors on one backing, so it looks continuous but functions separately. And I hate admitting this, but his fogging argument was spot on. Turns out physics doesn’t care about your aesthetic vision.
Lighting was another learning curve. Steve suggested separate light switches for each side, which seemed completely over the top until I realized how often one of us is getting ready while the other’s still in bed. Being able to control the lighting individually is brilliant at half past six in the morning when you’re trying not to wake your partner. We went with LED strips behind each mirror – got them from IKEA for about fifteen quid each – plus these little pendant lights either side that I found massively reduced at a lighting warehouse in Derby.
The plumbing side of things nearly gave me a headache. Two sinks means double everything – drain connections, water supply lines, and because we wanted proper hot water pressure, it meant upgrading the main supply line too. Our plumber explained we’d need to open up walls we hadn’t planned to touch, which obviously meant more money and more disruption. This is why renovation budgets are basically meaningless – there’s always something.
Got a bit creative with the layout though. Instead of centering everything perfectly, we shifted the whole vanity slightly toward the window on my side. Natural light for doing makeup? Absolutely worth the slightly asymmetrical look. Plus it gave us space for a little stool that tucks under the counter, which has been brilliant for detailed work like plucking eyebrows or when my back’s playing up.
The real test came during our first week actually using it. Discovered we needed separate supplies of shared things like hand soap and moisturizer, because apparently we’re both too lazy to reach across the gap to the other person’s side. Small bottles of everything at each sink sorted that. Also learned that separate hand towel hooks are absolutely essential – nothing worse than grabbing someone else’s soggy towel when you’re expecting dry.
One thing I definitely got right was the electrical planning. Put proper GFCI outlets on both sides, but also added USB charging ports built into the vanity unit. Being able to charge my electric toothbrush and Danny’s phone right there instead of hunting for free outlets around the house? Small thing, massive daily impact.
Materials mattered more than I’d expected too. Went with quartz worktops specifically because they won’t stain when you inevitably drop something or splash water everywhere. Cost more than laminate obviously, but worth it for the durability. The undermount sinks were pricier than the drop-in ones, but they look much cleaner and are so much easier to wipe around – no annoying rim collecting gunk.
For the actual vanity unit, we splashed out on soft-close drawer runners because let’s be honest, early morning coordination isn’t exactly our strong point, and nobody wants drawers slamming at six in the morning. Got the whole unit from a kitchen place actually – they do bathroom furniture too and it was much better value than the specialized bathroom shops.
It’s been over a year now and I can honestly say the double vanity completely transformed our morning routine. No more queuing, no more territorial disputes over mirror space, no more accidentally knocking each other’s stuff into the sink. We actually have proper conversations while getting ready instead of just grunting and dodging elbows.
Was it worth the money? Absolutely. Worth the disruption and the dust and Steve tramping through the house for three weeks? Definitely. But if I could go back and tell myself one thing before we started, it would be this: measure everything twice, plan for your actual habits not what looks good on paper, and always budget extra for the plumbing surprises. Because they will happen, and they will cost more than you think they should.
