You know that moment when you’re trying to get ready in a tiny bathroom and the door keeps getting in your way? I lived that nightmare for months in our first house. The bathroom was already the size of a phone box, but someone had installed this massive wooden door that swung inward and basically ate up half the floor space. Every morning I’d do this ridiculous shuffle – open door, squeeze in sideways, immediately close it again because the thing was practically touching the toilet, then try to maneuver around without banging my hip on the sink.
Danny used to laugh at me doing what he called my “bathroom dance,” but honestly it was driving me mental. This was back when we’d just bought the house in Bulwell and everything needed work, so I thought the door was the least of our problems. Wrong. So very wrong.
I finally cracked one morning when I was running late for work and somehow managed to trap myself between the door and the sink while trying to grab my toothbrush. Had to back out completely, close the door, then start again. That’s when I decided the door had to go, even though we were supposed to be saving money for the kitchen renovation.
That’s how I discovered pocket doors exist, and let me tell you – total game changer. A pocket door slides right into the wall cavity, so it literally disappears when it’s open. No more door swing eating up precious floor space, no more bathroom acrobatics just to wash your face.
I went down a proper rabbit hole researching them. Spent hours watching YouTube videos about installation, reading forum posts about which brands were reliable, measuring our wall about fifteen times to make sure we had enough cavity space. The frosted glass one I eventually chose wasn’t cheap – about £300 for the door itself, plus another £500 for the carpenter to install it properly because there’s no way I was attempting that myself.
But honestly? Best money we’ve ever spent on the house. I get a little thrill every morning when I slide that door open and actually have room to move around. It’s the simple things, isn’t it?
The installation wasn’t straightforward though. Our Victorian terrace has walls that are definitely not plumb – nothing in the house is exactly square, which I’ve learned is just par for the course with old houses. The carpenter had to do quite a bit of adjusting to get the door sliding smoothly. Even now, when it’s really humid (which in a bathroom is basically always), it sticks slightly. Nothing dramatic, just needs a bit more of a push to get it moving.
Also discovered you need to think about what’s inside your walls before you start cutting holes for pocket doors. We had to reroute some electrical cables that were running exactly where the door needed to slide. Added another £200 to the bill, but what choice did we have?
When we were helping Danny’s mum redo her ensuite last year, I suggested a pocket door for her too, but her walls were too thin and had heating pipes running through them. That’s when I learned about barn doors, which have become ridiculously trendy but are actually pretty practical.
Her bathroom is this weird narrow space with an awkward corner, and the original door kept banging into the toilet every time you opened it. The barn door slides along a track mounted on the wall surface – no hidden cavity needed, so no worries about pipes or wiring. We found this gorgeous reclaimed wood style door at a local timber yard for £180, track was about £120 from Screwfix, and Danny’s brother fitted it over a weekend.
The thing about barn doors though – they’re not sealed around the edges like proper doors. There’s always a bit of a gap where sound and light can sneak through. Fine for an ensuite where it’s just Danny’s mum using it, but I wouldn’t want one on our main bathroom. Our neighbor’s teenage son is always round here, and trust me, nobody needs that level of acoustic transparency.
That’s actually why I went with sliding glass doors when we did up the bathroom in our rental flat in Beeston. It’s a tiny studio, so space was crucial, but the tenants still needed proper privacy. Found these brilliant opaque glass panels that slide on a really smooth track – they look dead modern and let light through while keeping everything private. Cost about £350 all in, and they’ve survived two years of different tenants without any problems.
The trick with any sliding door is not to cheap out on the track hardware. I made that mistake on my first attempt – bought the cheapest track I could find online, and within three months the wheels were sticking and the door kept jumping off. Ended up replacing the whole thing with a proper quality track that cost twice as much. Should’ve just done it right the first time.
For really tiny spaces, I’ve become obsessed with bi-fold doors. They fold in half as they open, so they need even less clearance than sliding doors. Perfect for awkward spaces like under-stairs bathrooms or tiny cloakrooms. The mechanism needs a bit of maintenance – you have to adjust the hinges occasionally – but they’re brilliant space savers.
Here’s something I learned the hard way: door direction is absolutely crucial, and most people don’t think about it until it’s too late. When we first moved into the house, I was so focused on getting the bathroom functional that I just rehung the existing door without really considering which way it should swing. Big mistake.
The door opened right into the shower area, which meant every time someone used the bathroom, they had to shut the door before they could access half the room. Lived with it for weeks before I finally admitted it was stupid and got Danny to help me rehang it the other way. Such a simple change, but it transformed how the space worked.
Traditional hinged doors aren’t automatically bad – they’re still the most straightforward option if you’ve got decent space and good wall clearance. They seal properly, give you complete privacy, and you can find them in literally any style. But please, measure your swing space first. I can’t tell you how many bathrooms I’ve seen where the door bangs into the toilet or creates an obstacle course just to reach the sink.
Privacy levels vary massively depending on what type of door you choose. Pocket doors are excellent if they’re installed with proper seals. Barn doors – not so much. Glass doors depend entirely on how opaque the glass is. Those trendy frosted panels look gorgeous during the day, but at night when the bathroom light’s on, they can show shadows. Found that out during a dinner party once. Bit awkward.
Installation costs are all over the place. Simple door replacement might be £150-200 if you’re handy with tools, but pocket doors requiring wall modifications can easily hit £800-1000. Always factor in whether you’ll need new framing, electrical work, or plumbing adjustments. And measure everything twice – I’ve ordered the wrong size door more times than I care to admit.
The best bathroom door is one you don’t really notice – it just works with your daily routine, doesn’t get in the way, gives you the privacy you need, and looks decent while doing it. Took me three bathroom renovations to figure that out, but now I always start with the door when I’m planning a space.
