You can see why we had to gut the thing, right? The floor was a nasty white linoleum that not only showed every speck of dust, but highlighted it- fucker. The green only lived a day after we signed the papers; thank God it is a distant absurd nightmare. The sink, otherwise known as "The World's Smallest Sink," was a Home Depot special full of charm (and other things), and the tub was a lovely noncolor color much like this bureau. Don't get me started on the stickers.
We couldn't afford to do anything to it for four long years, other than slap paint on it and try to make it not-embarrassing. Here are some of my attempts. Note the change in tastes! The terrible photography! The homemade feel of it all!
Eventually we saved enough money to renovate. Now what? I feel good at taking pre-existing conditions and making them prettier but I never feel less creative then when looking at a blank slate. Luckily, I had already seen my dream bathroom many many times, so we decided to rip it off and call it our own.
We hired Greg Perchemildes in Montague, MA, timed a trip to San Francisco, made lots of choices, and held our breath (and bladders). He striped it down to the studs and rebuilt it in under 3 weeks in the dead of winter and in the middle of what seemed to be a perpetual snowstorm. I spent one of those weeks alone in the house being very very creative about my bathroom needs.
As my mother will tell you, I don't do well with the DURING stage of anything. It is a miracle that I am alive given the hissy fits I threw during the sewing of my Easter dresses in the early 1980's. While I didn't throw any hissy fits at our wonderful Greg, I did have a few internal bouts of hissy-whining, mostly when I had to pee in the middle of the night. But before I knew it, the bathroom was done and it turned out more beautiful than I ever expected. My favorite surprise is the wainscoting (or Wayne's Coating, as my friend Melissa adorably calls it). I had planned on painting it, but couldn't bring myself to do it.