The grout infuriated me. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t dirty; I cleaned my shower thoroughly every week with that amazing mould spray I’d purchased online three months ago. It was simply the abrupt end to the tiles half-way up the wall that irked me.
It made my shower cubicle feel divided into sections. When I first moved in two years ago I didn’t notice. I was too busy admiring my sleek white suite, delighted that my bottom corner of the shower contained tiles rather than fabric.
But as the months passed I found myself watching the steam rise each morning to the exact point where tile met paint. In all honesty, I don’t know why I started noticing.
The paint was supposed to be “bathroom specific” but after two years of use it was beginning to bubble and chip in places.
Staring into my shower should have been relaxing contemplation; instead, I had turned into my own personal quality control inspector. The problem, as I started to realise, was that the tiles bothered me so much I couldn’t actually see past them when I looked in the shower. Every time I climbed in and started to rinse away the day, my eyes were drawn to that point where the tiles ended and the paint began.
It felt cheap and unfinished. Half-tiled bathrooms are quite trendy but in my shower it just looked…half-done. At first I cursed myself for caring so much.
But then I spent the following three weeks Googling whether I should tile the whole shower or try to find a better paint alternative because let’s face it; I hate living with practicality if there’s something quirkier I can use instead. Google could not provide me with a straight answer. Tile-Versus-Paint blog post after endless blog post mused over the relative merits of each, seeking to persuade you into their tiled or painted camp.
Paint was cheaper, less prone to cracking and just as waterproof as its tessellated alternative. Hell, my neighbour swore by it and could show me photos of her family standing proudly in their shower over ten years later. My sister insisted she’d paid for tiles in her kitchen and bathroom and it had been worth every penny.
It took speaking to three separate bathroom fitters and visiting more tile shops than was strictly healthy, but what I discovered was this; there is no right answer, but there are wrong reasons for picking tile or paint. I went with tile. End of story.
It cost me about £400 more than if I had bricks to halfway up my bathroom wall and sworn off painting. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it wasn’t insignificant either. What I didn’t anticipate was how much of a difference that extra tiling would make to my day-to-day life.
I haven’t cleaned those walls with anything stronger than water in eight months. Previously I’d been scrubbing, repainting and battling mould stains every other month. “Did you know,” said my bathroom fitter Dave as he painstakingly tiled my shower from floor to ceiling, “that paint doesn’t just get mouldy at shoulder height? It travels.
Up the wall, into the cracks and cavities. Trust me. I’ve seen some tiled bathrooms in my time but the number of people that come back to me complaining about paint repair half way up their bathroom is unreal.” Turns out that even paint that’s designed for bathrooms, even the expensive stuff with all the frills that repels mould and damp, is only as good as the last drop of water that hits the wall.
It took him an extra two days to finish than initially quoted due to tiling around the existing suite, but it was worth the wait. And the disruption. Watching those white rectangles get worked into place until they kissed the ceiling was strangely satisfying.
Like watching a reluctant puzzle finally come together. I was also surprised at how much of a difference it made to the overall aesthetic. My shower no longer felt cramped or like an afterthought.
Bright and breezy was more how I would describe it. This is probably down to the lack of jagged stopping points or colour breaks that offer your eye somewhere to rest. Speaking of cleaning, that was another game changer.
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Three seconds with the shower spray after each use. Maybe a wipe over with a cloth if I’m feeling fancy. Compare that to the mission statement that was washing down my painted walls in my old flat.
They required hard labour, specialised sprays and a magnifying glass to keep on top of. Plus, tile dries with just the shower fan on. No need to scrub walls until they shine.
Obviously fully tiling your shower doesn’t come without its downsides. The upkeep on grout is very real. I sealed mine properly after watching an entire wall succumb to mould in my previous bathroom but you do have to make sure you dry your shower walls properly after each use.
And grout still needs replacing every few months. I spend 20 minutes every couple of months running a grout pen over the tiles to keep the lines white. It isn’t hard work or unpleasant but it’s more maintenance than painted walls will ever ask of you.
Don’t get me wrong. If I were doing a rental bathroom or knew I was going to move in a few years time I would have likely gone the paint route. It’s cheaper, easier to replace when it starts to look dated and overall far less of an investment.
But this is my forever bathroom and I wasn’t prepared to bang my head against the “tile-vs-paint-wall” every morning. The last thing I wasn’t expecting? How much more upscale my entire bathroom suite suddenly felt.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a very basic white suite but when your walls go from fabric / paint / tile-stop to a continuous surface it suddenly feels more high-end. More hotel-envy-inducing. Every person who visits my flat comments on how “nice” and “finished” my bathroom looks.
Would I recommend fully tiling your shower? Hell yes. Would I also tell you to consider your circumstances?
You bet. Got kids who love to splash about? Go tile.
Steamier than average bathroom?
Go tile. Hate cleaning?
Go tile. On a budget? Opt for paint.
Happy to hang a dehumidifier every few months? Paint will be your friend. For me, it came down to how I felt every morning when I got in.
I didn’t want to mentally note the areas that needed improving or weekends I could spend plastering paint around my bathroom. When I spent that little bit extra, it was worth it to not have that feeling every day. Sometimes design decisions aren’t about filling your home with Pinterest-worthy ideas.
Sometimes they’re about choosing the option that lets you forget it’s there altogether.
