You know that feeling when you find yourself actually looking forward to taking a shower? That was not an experience I ever thought I’d have in my otherwise nice-but-generic Austin condo. Until about eighteen months ago, when eighteen months prior to finally finishing my shower renovation I decided to grow tired of my inadequate existing shower.
Now, I actually enjoy my morning routine. I’ll be honest with you: I’m a software engineer. My day job involves fixing problems that only exist inside computers.
So when it comes to the physical world, I tend to take things a little bit too far. This was true for my shower as well.
For two years after moving into my condo, I tolerated what can politely be described as abysmal water flow.
A single showerhead that produced a stream indistinguishable from a mist nozzle; pressure so low I constantly questioned whether there was a kink in the pipes feeding my unit; and off-white 4×4 tile that made it look as if the builder installed things with coupons handed to them at the hardware store saying “We’ll accept this as final payment for your smallest tile.” My wife and I had moved into this one-bedroom condo the summer before. Work was crazy busy and we were never home enough to care about the boring-but-functional digs. That all changed when I woke up early one Tuesday to take a shower before an important client presentation.
I was slightly rushed, as happens anytime you try to fit a shower into your weekday morning routine. About halfway through shampooing my hair, the water suddenly went ice cold. There I stood, filthy and shivering beneath a sprinkle of water that felt more like a light rain than an actual shower.
Something snapped inside me – namely, my will to accept that a basic necessity like showering would make me feel punished each morning simply because I lived in a one-bedroom condo on a middle-class software engineer’s salary. I threw myself into shower research with the same fervor I reserve for best programming practices. Shower heads; rain heads; handhelds; digital controllers that made me feel like a superhero every morning when I pushed a button and the shower turned itself on.
I spent weeks pouring over reviews online, cataloging different brands by flow rate and features. My web browser became so stuffed with “research” tabs that it was like I was going to open my own showertemppany any minute. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t all bullshit.
You definitely don’t need to spend what some vendors want for high-end rain heads to see improvement in your daily routine. After deciding I wanted more than one showerhead (duh), the first was naturally a rainfall style mounted to the ceiling. Went with a 10-inch diameter in brushed brass, since I was replacing all the chrome fixtures throughout the bathroom anyway.
Added a handheld that slid along a horizontal bar for when I couldn’t simply rinse out shampoo underneath the rain head due to my vertically-challenged stature. As it turns out, my building requires a licensed plumber to do any work involving new water lines. So while I could’ve installed the shower heads myself had we been renting an flat, I wasn’t about to violate my lease just to cross that part off my todo list.
The plumber spent a good portion of a Saturday running supply lines up to my ceiling-mounted rain head, which required cutting into drywall and fishing new plumbing lines through the ceiling of the unit upstairs. The lady who lived above me was not happy about the drilling noises at 8am on a Saturday morning, but tolerated it after I slid some coffee under her door along with a politely-worded note. The rainfall head produces what I can only describe as a “cloud” of water.
Rather than feeling blasted by water from above, you feel enveloped by it. It sounds silly, but trust me when I say it really does make the shower feel like a different experience. The handheld was equally convenient.
Perfect for reaching up to wash hair along the sides of your head, or alternatively to clean the shower itself. But it also allows you to target exactly where you want the water to go, as opposed to a fixed showerhead. The bench was by far the biggest concession I had to make to your standard builder-grade shower.
Ain’t nobody got time to build-in a seat to your shower, right? Well, I did – and I regret nothing. I used the same large-format porcelain tile for the walls on the bench, but had it butted up where both showerheads would hit but not in line with the direct flow of water from the rainfall head.
My contractor was against adding a bench. Told me most people don’t use them, they’re purely cosmetic, why spend money on something you’ll likely never use? Girl, please.
I love that damn bench. It’s not a luxurious amenity that’s so big you can only wash your ankles in your shower – it’s as practical as they come. I shave in the shower, which means I don’t want to bend over at the knees when lathering up.
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The built-in bench makes shaving easy without breaking your back. I also occasionally use it to just sit and relax if I know I have a few extra minutes of downtime in the morning or evening. And let’s be honest – sometimes you just want to sit under some nice, hot water and think about how you’re going to completely dominate the week ahead of you.
I could write an entire blog post on how I agonized over tile selection. I spent two full weekends pouring over tile showrooms; having sample tiles live on my bathroom counter for months at a time; talked to contractors at three different tile shops because I just couldn’t make up my mind. Ultimately went with 12×24 inch porcelain plank tiles that mimic the look of natural stone without needing annual sealing and maintenance.
Vertical on the walls (makes the shower appear taller) and horizontal on the bench to break up the pattern. Smaller hexagon tiles with a textured finish for grip on the floor. Don’t forget to grip – I ended up sliding around once at a friend’s house on his slick shower tiles and came damn close to destroying his brand new glass shower door.
For grout, I went with a medium grey. Not so light that the shower looks like you’re diving into The Hulk’s angry wang, but dark enough that dirt and residue from hard water doesn’t stand out quite as much. If there was one feature I nearly talked myself out of, it was the steam generator.
Sure, it’s nice to steam your pets in the shower? But $900 for the unit alone? And then some sweet hustling for an electrician to run a dedicated circuit because lets face it, you don’t want to be stealing juice from your kitchen when you turn that thing on.
All in, the steam upgrade added about $2k to my budget. …but it was so worth it. Now I probably don’t use the steam function daily – maybe 2 out of 7 days on average. But when I do?
Oh man, does it feel good. And having the option of cranking my shower into a bona fide steam room whenever I feel like it makes taking regular ol’ showers that much better. Speaking of digital controllers, this bad boy was worth every penny.
No more fiddling with hot and cold knobs each morning in the shower, praying that you won’t scald yourself or freeze to death before you step out. I set one programmed button to my preferred temperature with enough flow for washing my body under the rainfall head only (great for quick weekday showers). The other button activates both heads at a slightly higher temperature, for when I know I have the time to relax and take in some steam.
Something as simple as better lighting can also make a surprising impact. I installed LED strips underneath the edge of the bench and behind a recessed shower niche for ambient lighting alongside (or in place of) the main overhead light. Bright, white lights in the morning makes me feel more awake.
Warm lighting in the evening has the converse effect. And the light switch was maybe $40? Seems like a much pricier upgrade than that.
Lastly, if you take anything away from this article let it be this: plan your shower storage around how you use products, not how you think you should be using them. You don’t need to have your shampoo and conditioner hidden away in some tiny ledge-turned-shelf just because that’s what you see in every shower boutique. Place your primary shower niche at about shoulder-height where your hand naturally reaches when looking for shampoo.
Make it large enough to fit full-sized bottles without appearing cluttered.
Build a smaller niche near your shower bench to stash razor blades and other miscellaneous nonsense. No more bottles packed like sweaty sardines along the kerb of your shower floor or balancing on tiny shelves hoping they won’t autumn and break.
The whole renovation took about a week and a half; though I lived out of the guest bathroom for that duration and was suddenly reminded why I put so much effort into fixing my main shower. Around $5800 for labour and materials; some of which I threw at it once I decided my original tile selection was “blah” and deserved to be upgraded. It’s not cheap to renovate a shower in a condo, but divvying that cost up over twice-a-day usage for the next few years of your life sounds pretty reasonable to me.
Now it’s my tiny luxury I look forward to each morning. One that makes even the most hectic of weekday mornings feel special. My water pressure is wonderful.
Temperature control is consistent. It actually feels like I want to spend time in there, rather than rush through each day like a personal hell. Sometimes I even let myself luxuriate underneath the rainfall head for a few extra minutes of shower time just because I know I can.
If that’s not the test of whether or not your renovation was worthwhile, I don’t know what is.
