Right, so I need to tell you about my complete 180 on dark bathrooms because honestly, I used to think they were absolutely mental. Like, who wants to feel like they’re washing their face in a cave? But three years ago I was stuck in this rental while we were having work done on our house, and the bathroom was… God, it was grim. Everything white and clinical with these fluorescent strip lights that made me look like I was dying of something serious. Every morning felt like a medical examination rather than getting ready for the day.
I’d been following these interior design accounts on Instagram (dangerous territory when you’re a former nurse with time on her hands and opinions about spaces), and kept seeing these gorgeous dark, moody bathrooms that looked like something from a fancy hotel. The kind of places where you’d want to have a long soak rather than rush through your morning routine. But I was proper intimidated by the whole concept – what if it went wrong? What if it felt like a dungeon?
When we finally moved back home, I decided our downstairs loo would be my guinea pig. Small space, not used constantly, so if I completely ballsed it up, we could live with the consequences while I figured out how to fix it. Went straight for Farrow & Ball’s Railings – this deep, sophisticated charcoal that looked incredible in the tin. Eighty-five quid for two tins, mind you. Phil nearly choked when he saw the receipt.
Well. The result was… intense doesn’t begin to cover it. Walking into that room felt like entering a confession booth, and not in a good way. I’d created this oppressive box that made you want to get in and out as quickly as possible. My sister took one look and said, “Bloody hell, Claire, it’s like a Victorian mourning room in there.” She wasn’t wrong.
But here’s the thing – I could see the potential. The color itself was gorgeous, rich and dramatic in a way that magnolia walls could never be. The problem wasn’t the darkness; it was everything else I’d ignored. You can’t just slap dark paint on walls and expect magic to happen. You need to think about how light works, how surfaces interact, how the whole space comes together.
The lighting was my biggest mistake initially. Those standard ceiling spotlights we’d always used? Absolutely hopeless with dark walls. They created these harsh pools of light that made the dark areas look even more cave-like. I spent ages researching proper bathroom lighting (which is more complicated than you’d think – who knew there were so many regulations about electrical fittings in wet areas?) and ended up installing wall sconces on either side of where a mirror would go.
Game changer, honestly. Warm LED bulbs – none of those daylight ones that make you look like you’re in an operating theatre. The light spread evenly across the space instead of creating those weird shadows that made me look like I hadn’t slept in weeks. Cost me about £120 for decent sconces, but worth every penny for not feeling like I was in a horror film every time I popped to the loo.
Then I got a bit creative with a small table lamp on a floating shelf. I know, I know – a table lamp in a bathroom sounds completely mad, but it creates this lovely warm pool of light that completely transforms the mood. Obviously had to make sure it was properly rated for bathroom use after the first one got all fogged up from shower steam. Learn from my mistakes, yeah?
The mirror situation needed sorting too. That standard rectangular thing we’d had for years just disappeared against the dark walls. Swapped it for a large round one with a thin brass frame from this place in Leeds that does reclaimed architectural bits. The circular shape softens all the hard lines from rectangular tiles and fittings, plus it bounces light around in a way that somehow makes the whole space feel bigger. I’ve used this trick in two other rooms since and it works every time.
This is where I got a bit obsessed with reflective surfaces. Not in a disco ball way, obviously, but thinking about how every surface could help with light. Chose tiles with a slight sheen rather than completely matte ones – they catch and reflect light without looking flashy. Even swapped out the shower screen for one with barely noticeable sparkle embedded in the glass. Nothing over the top, just enough to keep things from feeling flat and lifeless.
Color choice beyond “paint everything black” turned out to be crucial. After living with that charcoal for a few months, I decided to try something different upstairs. Went with Little Greene’s Hicks’ Blue in our main bathroom – this gorgeous deep navy that feels dramatic but not oppressive. It’s dark enough to create that cozy, wrapped-up feeling, but there’s enough actual color in it to feel warm rather than stark.
The trick I learned was balancing dark walls with lighter elements everywhere else. Floor tiles are pale grey limestone – nothing fancy, got them from a local supplier for thirty quid per square meter. They ground the space without fighting with the walls for attention, and the natural variation in the stone adds texture without being busy. White fixtures (toilet, sink, bath) provide the contrast you need to stop everything disappearing into itself.
Storage becomes more important in dark bathrooms because any clutter really shows up against light-colored fixtures. Had floating shelves made in the same pale oak as our bathroom cabinet – cost £120 from a local carpenter, but they’re exactly what the space needed. They hold all our toiletries and towels while adding warmth that prevents the room from feeling too cold or masculine.
Towel choice might sound trivial, but it’s not. White towels look crisp against dark walls, but I actually prefer warm grays or even blush pink. They feel more intentional, like you’ve thought about how everything works together rather than just grabbing whatever was half-price at John Lewis.
Plants work brilliantly in dark bathrooms if you choose the right ones. Got a snake plant in a simple white ceramic pot that sits on the floor next to the bath. Thrives in low light and adds this lovely living element that makes the whole room feel less like a designed space and more like somewhere you actually want to spend time. Avoid anything delicate though – the humidity will kill it, and nothing undermines your sophisticated bathroom aesthetic quite like sad, brown leaves.
One thing you absolutely cannot skimp on is ventilation. Any hint of mold or mildew shows up like a beacon against dark walls, so proper air circulation is non-negotiable. Upgraded our extractor fan (eighty quid, installed it myself with help from YouTube and several nervous cups of tea), and I religiously run it during and after showers. Dark bathrooms are gorgeous, but they’re unforgiving if you don’t maintain them properly.
The end result? A bathroom that feels like a luxurious retreat rather than somewhere you rush through your morning routine. People always comment on how relaxing and hotel-like it feels, which is exactly what I was hoping for. It’s dramatic enough to feel special every time you walk in, but comfortable enough that you’re not constantly aware of the design choices.
Would I do it again? Absolutely, but I’d skip that initial black paint disaster and go straight to navy or deep green. I’d invest in proper lighting from the beginning rather than trying to make do with what was already there, and budget for decent mirrors and reflective surfaces from day one. Dark bathrooms work beautifully, but they need proper planning rather than just hoping for the best with a tin of expensive paint.
