Alright, so you wanna know about We Love Bathrooms, yeah? Let’s have a proper natter about it.
Picture this—last autumn, I was helping a mate redo her flat in Hackney. Total nightmare, honestly. She’d bought this gorgeous Victorian terrace, but the bathroom? Stuck in the 1970s. Avocado suite, dodgy tiles, the whole shebang. We spent weeks trawling through showrooms and websites, feeling utterly lost. Then, almost by accident, we stumbled into We Love Bathrooms’ showroom just off Tottenham Court Road. And blimey, it was like walking into a really good friend’s home—if your friend had impeccable taste and knew everything about taps.
You know how most bathroom places feel a bit…clinical? All white walls and harsh lighting, like you’re choosing a hospital fixture? Not here. The lighting was soft, there were actual plants in the corners, and the sinks were displayed with little stacks of folded linen towels and lovely-smelling soap. I remember picking up a basin—it was this matte concrete finish, cool to the touch, weighty in a reassuring way. The bloke working there, Mike, didn’t just rattle off specs. He said, “Go on, run your hand over it. Feel that texture? That’s what you wake up to every morning.” And he was right. It wasn’t just a sink; it felt solid, honest, grounding.
Their range isn’t about having 500 nearly-identical white toilets. It’s more like a carefully edited mix—thoughtful, not overwhelming. They’ve got these sleek, minimalist German showers that look like spaceship controls, but also traditional roll-top baths that wouldn’t look out of place in a countryside cottage. What ties it all together isn’t a single “style,” but a kind of quiet confidence. Nothing’s shouting for attention. It’s all about materials you want to touch, shapes that feel balanced, and colours that are soft and natural—earthy greens, warm stone tones, brushed brass that glows in low light.
I remember Mike telling us about a couple from Brighton who’d driven up just to look at a particular freestanding tub. They’d seen it online, but wanted to see the “water fall” tap in action. He filled it right up for them—not a rushed demo, just letting them listen to the sound of the water. It’s that kind of detail you only get from being there. They’re not just selling you a product; they’re letting you experience the quiet pleasure of a well-made thing.
Oh, and here’s the thing—they’re not afraid to say no. My mate wanted this very cheap, glossy tile to pair with a beautiful terrazzo basin. The designer, a lovely woman named Sarah, gently winced and said, “Darling, don’t. It’ll cheapen the whole room. Let’s find something that sings together.” And she was right! She pulled out this handmade zellige tile with slight colour variations—it made the whole scheme come alive.
That’s their personality, really: knowledgeable but never arrogant, passionate but not pushy. They treat bathrooms not as just functional rooms, but as little sanctuaries. It’s in the way they talk about morning light hitting a particular stone, or how a certain shower head feels like rain rather than needles. It’s personal. You walk out feeling like you’ve been guided, not sold to.
So yeah, if you’re after a bathroom that feels like a proper retreat—something that’s built to last and designed with a bit of soul—you know where to look. It’s less about a “brand” and more about a mindset. And honestly? After that Hackney project, I’ll never look at bathroom shopping the same way again.
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