More on "Period" and Very Real Bathrooms

This post  was first written as part of the project of doing up a Wilhelminian style villa in a village in the Ore Mountains. Alas, this project, like so many others, had to be abandoned once it was three quarters finished. However, I think it's interesting in a general sort of way for those interested in doing up an old house.

When I put up my first "bathroom entries" any realisation was a matter of a far-ish future and a different house. The fact that the house where I am living now can firmly be identified as being from a post-wooden-bathtub period makes things infinitely more easy. Once I saw the pictures I have published in this entry (see one below), I knew how my future bathroom was going to look and that the period feeling could be acquired by relatively simple means. Because of a limited budget I bid a fond farewell to any gadgets like a high level cistern and "nostalgic" suite and fittings. An embedded cistern (I am not at all sure whether that is the correct term), a standard white sanitary suite and standard, though not aggressively modern, fittings had to do.


I am very pleased with the overall-impression created by stark white tiles and a black and white border made from standard black-and-white mosaic tiles. Considering how the bathroom looked when we bought the house, it's probably the most stunning improvement. Cheap and horrible PVC-flooring was coupled with horrible and cheap wooden panelling and plastic-sheet "tiles". The solid-fuel-heated hot-water boiler was cute, though, and, I presume, still in working order. But convenience is a great eye-opener when it comes to period features. However, the modern, electricity-heated boiler is placed in the basement and thus doesn't at least interfere with the period feeling.

To prevent the bathroom to look like a cold store or -- worse -- like a mortuary, I am right now toying with the idea of a chandelier with two matching wall lamps framing the mirror and a black and white toile Roman blind.

Richloom Confection Charcoal or...

...Golding Cantata Onxy would come very close to what I'd like.

In an older entry, The Peak of Chic showed, in the context of Georgian style, those absolutely gorgeous bathrooms. Granted for arguments sake that I could afford anything like that: I am asking myself how it is kept clean. What does one do about soapy and oily splatters or -- heavens forbid! -- splatters of haircolour? Do those lucky people have a simple, usable, easy-to-clean bathroom hidden behind those museum pieces?



I admit, I am a lousy "housewife". I don't like dusting and my kitchen was never up to gastronomic standards, cleanlinesswise. But I draw the line at the bathroom. Those curry-yellow tiles and sanitary suites so popular here in the Seventies and later or -- worse -- that English fluffy bathroom carpetry give me the creeps. With white tiles and stuff one can at least SEE what is there (and then clean it away).