Baths, at home.
Rooms built around them.
In Their Homes.
A bath, in the end, becomes the room it goes into.
Here are four rooms — and four baths that changed them.
A 16th-Century
Kentish farmhouse.
Emma and Jonathan — an antiques dealer and a book restorer — asked for a bath that would look as though it had always been there. Which, in a way, it now has.
We raised a Kensington in antique copper with a polished-nickel interior, and set it against a wall of hand-thrown teal tiles the owners had brought back from Marrakech.
A Georgian townhouse,
in Bath.
A four-storey townhouse a hundred yards from the Roman Baths. The owners — a novelist and a paediatric surgeon — wanted a piece that would sit against the deep navy panelling. We gave them polished nickel.
The bath is fed by a hand-cast pair of pillar taps in polished brass; the floor is checkerboard Ashburton marble. The room now smells of cedar and hot copper.
A modernist house,
the Cotswolds.
Concrete floor, concrete ceiling, one south-facing wall of glass. A tricky room to warm up. A hammered antique copper Oxford was the answer.
The bath sits three metres from the window and catches the setting light for about an hour every evening. The owner describes bathing in it as “essentially like sitting inside the sunset.”
A penthouse,
London.
A tenth-floor flat, a rooftop view of Regent’s Park, a bathroom the size of the sitting room. The couple — a violin-maker and a paediatrician — wanted the warmest thing they could imagine against the coolest possible palette.
The Lancaster went in polished brass with a polished nickel interior. A pair of vintage bronze wall taps came from a client’s Norfolk barn. The bathroom feels — the owner says — “like waking up inside a small orchestra.”
Every bath finds a room.
Every room, sooner or later, finds a bath.
Show us your room.
Send a photograph or two, tell us how the light falls, and we’ll suggest a bath — and a finish — that will belong there.