My bathroom is gnarly.
When I bought my apartment in 2001, the whole thing was a showplace. The previous owner was an architect and renovating his apartment was his hobby. This is why I have concrete (as in sidewalk concrete) countertops, kitchen cabinets with touch-sensitive lights, custom built-in shelves and cabinetry work, and an open kitchen with plenty of workspace instead of a closed-in, windowless, claustrophobic nightmare like the other apartments in my line.
As part of the renovations, the architect yanked a very 1980's vanity out of the bathroom and replaced it with a wall-mounted sink and a custom cabinet made of nice-looking but cheaply constructed wood veneer and particleboard. He also covered up mildewed grout with a fresh, nice-looking dose of caulk.
The bathroom looked nice before I moved in. I'm no handywoman myself, but even I realized fairly early on that the previous owner did a pretty half-assed job on it. The veneered wood in the bathroom was never sealed, the importance of which I discovered only after a sizeable patch of mildew had developed. I borrowed a sander in hopes of sanding down the spot, and that's how I discovered that the top was veneer and that there wasn't much of it.
The end result was significantly worse than the original mold. I didn't have many options (spending money on it was out of the question), so I sealed the whole thing, ugly spot and all, and left it.
It's a classy establishment I live in, all right.
Meanwhile, the nice-looking caulk peeled away not long after I moved in, uncovering some unpleasant-looking mildew stains which have since worsened. No amount of Ajax and effort with scrubbing brush have made more than a temporary and very minor difference.
All in all, seven and a half years after moving in, the bathroom is pretty grotty-looking and I'm a bit embarrassed. I've been hesitant to do anything major about it both because of the horrendous cost of renovations in New York and because of the fact that a bathroom is, well, important. . . and I only have one. I can shower at the gym for a week or two, but I am way too type A to be very flexible about the other main reason for having a bathroom.
I finally hit my breaking point earlier this week when I read a New York Times article noting how far home renovation prices have fallen. This being New York, a full bathroom renovation even in this economy would cost about $20,000, but I decided that if that's what it took to bring the bathroom up to the level of niceness that the rest of the apartment is, I'd pay it and do my part to get the US economy moving again.
The next step was to ask for guidance from my building's management agent, and that's what freaked me the hell out. Understandably, for a full-on gut renovation of one or more rooms, the building has some fairly stringent requirements and liability protections. I wasn't really planning on stretching my budget to include an architect, but that's one of the many unexpected cost centers that can and probably would send my costs through the ceiling.
This is where being frugal helps: I made a list of things that I want to change about the bathroom and prioritized them. It was pretty clear up front that although a gut reno would be nice, I probably don't need a full one in order to make the place much more attractive and livable. I'm not wild about the floor tile, for example, but it's an okay neutral and I can live with it. I don't have the space to shift the layout around, and I actually really like the wall-mounted sink and was planning on keeping it anyway. The final renovation list looks like this:
1. Re-grout the wall tile
2. Replace the cabinetry with a custom job - preferably hard wood, but not necessarily if there's a better option given the high level of humidity in there.
3. Replace the toilet
My SO knows how to do numbers 1 and 3 and beamed when I asked him to teach me, so we're going to have a crack at doing the work ourselves over Memorial Day Weekend. Number 2 is a little more complicated, but given how small the space is, I can't imagine that even a custom job would cost more than a thousand dollars. All in all, I think we can make the place much nicer and significantly less gnarly for about ten percent of the original cost estimate I came up with, and that makes my money-saving heart sing with joy.
Renovations: Any horror stories or DIY nightmares you want to share before I take the plunge?
Read more...