Right, so I’m stood in my bedroom this morning trying to get dressed and I’ve got about eighteen inches between the bed and wardrobe to manoeuvre in. Proper comedy shuffle just to put a jumper on. But here’s the thing – six months ago this exact same space felt like a prison cell where I’d wake up already feeling claustrophobic. Now when my sister stays over she actually says it feels “spacious,” which made me laugh because nothing’s changed size-wise, obviously. I just finally cracked the code on making tiny spaces work.
My first go at this was an absolute shambles, if I’m being honest. Read somewhere that white makes everything look bigger, didn’t I? So off I went, painting every surface magnolia-white like some sort of decorating robot. The result was basically a mental health ward. Sterile, cold, and somehow even more cramped because your eye had nothing interesting to land on. Lasted about a fortnight before I was back at B&Q looking defeated and asking the paint bloke for advice.
The lightbulb moment happened when I visited my mate Emma’s flat in Sheffield. Her bedroom was genuinely smaller than mine – I measured it later because I’m sad like that – but it felt… I don’t know how to describe it. Like you could actually breathe in there. Took me ages to work out what she’d done differently until I realised it wasn’t one magic trick, it was loads of little choices that somehow all worked together.
Now, this’ll sound mental given everything you read online, but forget that nonsense about avoiding dark colours in small rooms. Emma had done one wall in this stunning deep navy (Farrow & Ball’s Hague Blue, though I found basically the same shade in Dulux for about fifteen quid instead of sixty). That dark wall didn’t shrink the room – it created this sense of depth, like looking into something rather than being trapped in a box. I tried it in mine with a rich burgundy behind my bed head, and honestly, the change was instant. Instead of four walls closing in on me, I had this gorgeous focal point that made everything feel more deliberate.
But here’s where I nearly messed it up – you can’t just slap a dark wall in there and call it done. The trick is carrying hints of that colour through the rest of the space. Found some lovely cushions in the same burgundy tone, added a throw that picked up both that and the warm cream I’d painted the other walls. Suddenly instead of looking like I’d run out of paint halfway through, the room had this proper pulled-together feel.
The furniture situation was doing my head in, though. I’d inherited this massive oak bed frame from Phil’s nan – absolutely gorgeous but takes up half the bloody room. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it (the guilt would’ve killed me), but something had to give. Ended up raising it on these bed riser things from Argos and using the space underneath for storage boxes I’d covered in fabric that matched my curtains. Killed two birds – made the ceiling look higher and gave me somewhere to shove all the stuff that was cluttering up the floor.
Speaking of floors, and this sounds obvious but keeping as much of it visible as possible makes such a difference it’s almost stupid. I ditched the chunky bedside tables that were eating up space and put up floating shelves instead. Cost me twenty-eight quid from IKEA, took about half an hour to install, and suddenly I could see actual floor. Plus I can finally vacuum properly without having to move furniture about, which is oddly satisfying.
The lighting transformation was probably what made the biggest difference, if I’m honest. Had this horrible overhead bulb that made everything look like a police interrogation room. Couldn’t change it because I’m renting, so I just… stopped using it. Revolutionary, I know. Instead I got three different light sources – warm table lamp on the shelf, some battery LED strips behind the headboard that wash light up the wall, and fairy lights round the window that I thought might look student-y but actually look quite magical in the evenings. All that layered light creates these lovely pools of warmth instead of harsh shadows everywhere.
Everyone bangs on about mirrors making rooms look bigger, and they’re right, but not in the way you’d think. Tried the classic “massive mirror opposite the window” approach first and absolutely hated it. Glare during the day, and at night it just showed me my unmade bed, which wasn’t exactly the relaxing vibe I was going for. Moved it to the side wall where it catches light from the window but doesn’t create this obvious reflection situation. Much better – bounces light around without being all “LOOK AT ME I’M A MIRROR MAKING YOUR ROOM BIGGER.”
Window dressing took me about four attempts to get right. Heavy curtains made the place feel like a cave, but I needed privacy and some control over the morning sun that streams straight onto the bed. Ended up with linen Roman blinds in this soft mushroom colour that basically disappears into the walls, then added sheer panels either side that I can pull across when needed. During the day when they’re open, they create these lovely soft patterns on the walls that add interest without being busy.
I got properly obsessive about storage after that. Every single bit of space had to earn its keep. Found these beautiful woven baskets that sit perfectly on top of the wardrobe for winter clothes. Under-bed storage (covered in matching fabric, naturally) holds spare bedding and all that random stuff you accumulate. Even managed to find a floating shelf with a tiny drawer built in for all the bits and bobs that used to live on surfaces and make everything look messy.
The biggest thing I learned? Don’t try to shrink everything just because the room’s small. I thought I needed dollhouse furniture to match the dollhouse room, but actually one or two properly-sized pieces look much better than loads of tiny fiddly things everywhere. My bed’s still massive for the space, but because everything else is streamlined around it, it looks proportional rather than ridiculous.
It’s been six months now and I genuinely love this room. It’s not big – it’ll never be big – but it feels calm and intentional rather than like somewhere I’m just storing my stuff. And you know what? I still do that stupid sideways shuffle between the bed and wardrobe sometimes, but now it feels like a quirky feature rather than a daily reminder that I can’t afford anywhere bigger.
