Right, you’ve asked about fitting a cloakroom suite into a tight space. Blimey, takes me back to my first flat in Shoreditch — a converted Victorian terrace with a downstairs loo that was basically a glorified broom cupboard. I mean, you opened the door and your knees were practically touching the sink! But you know what? We made it work. It’s all about clever thinking, not big spending.
So picture this: It’s 2018, I’m standing in this narrow, gloomy space, maybe 1.2 by 0.8 metres, smelling of damp and old pipes. My mate Dave, a plumber, looks at me and goes, “You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?” But I wasn’t. First rule — chuck out any notion of a standard-sized anything. That bulky pedestal basin? Gone. That deep-protruding toilet? No chance.
You want a corner basin, a really shallow one. I found this lovely wall-hung, semi-pedestal design from VitrA — Turkish brand, seriously good value — that was only 30cm deep. Mounted it diagonally across the corner. Saved a good 15cm of floor space, felt like a miracle! And the tap? A single-lever, wall-mounted one. Frees up the whole rim of the basin for your toothbrush, soap, what have you. Oh, and get a rectangular toilet, not a round one. Sounds odd, but a close-coupled suite with a compact, angular cistern tucks tighter against the wall. I went for a Roca model, the ‘Meridian’, slim and neat. The pan was shorter, too. Suddenly, you could actually shut the door without banging your shins. Bliss.
Lighting’s everything in these poky rooms. That Shoreditch cloakroom had one sad, frosted bulb on the ceiling. Made it feel like a interrogation cell! I swapped it for a simple LED downlight above the mirror, and then — this was the game-changer — I installed a sensor-activated, low-profile LED strip along the skirting board. Soft, ambient glow at night. No fumbling for switches. You could literally smell the difference — the damp smell seemed to vanish once the room felt brighter and airier. Mad, innit?
Storage? You have to be ruthless. A classic cloakroom suite might include a cupboard, but in a tight space, that just eats room. I used a slim, recessed niche in the wall above the loo for spare loo rolls and a candle. Three shelves, about 15cm deep. Painted the inside the same colour as the walls so it sort of disappeared. For coats? A single, sturdy hook on the back of the door. Not three, just one. Makes you prioritise!
Now, materials. Avoid dark tiles — they suck the light right up. I used large-format, light grey porcelain tiles on the floor and halfway up the wall. The grout was a light grey too, so it all felt seamless. And the walls above? A bloody brilliant white, wipeable paint. Easy to clean, reflects light like nobody’s business. The whole room just breathed.
Look, I won’t lie — I’ve seen some proper disasters. A client in Chelsea last year insisted on a vintage brass towel rail in a space barely bigger than an airline lavatory. It became a lethal weapon every time you turned around! Had to talk them into a simple, folded towel ring on the wall instead. Sometimes, you just have to be a bit brutal.
So, designing a compact cloakroom suite… it’s not about what you put in, really. It’s about what you have the guts to leave out. Choose every piece like it’s a puzzle — slim, shallow, smart. Light it like a little jewel box. And for heaven’s sake, make sure the door opens outwards, not in. Trust me on that one.
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