Butcher block for a vanity top—now that’s clever. I’ve always wondered how wood holds up in a bathroom, but I guess with the right sealant it’s solid. My place is a 1920s bungalow, so when we tackled the main bath, I tried to keep some of the old charm. Ended up reusing the original cast iron tub (which took three people and a lot of cursing to move), and hunted down some hex tile that looked period-appropriate.
Didn’t go the mismatched route, but I can see how that’d add character. Ours ran about $15k, mostly because we had to update ancient plumbing—turns out galvanized pipes don’t last forever. Sometimes I look at those glossy magazine bathrooms and think, “Sure, they’re pretty, but where’s the soul?” There’s something about using what you’ve got or finding oddball materials that just feels right, especially in an old house.
Curious—how’s the butcher block holding up with all the humidity? Any warping or weirdness yet?
Sometimes I look at those glossy magazine bathrooms and think, “Sure, they’re pretty, but where’s the soul?”
Couldn’t agree more—those “perfect” spaces always feel a little sterile to me. Love that you kept the cast iron tub; nothing beats that old-school heft and charm. Plumbing upgrades are brutal on the budget, but honestly, it’s money well spent. The quirks and imperfections are what make these old houses feel alive.
I hear you on the plumbing costs—those always sneak up on me, no matter how many times I’ve done this. Last year, I redid a 1920s bungalow bathroom and tried to keep as much original as possible. The tile was a mess, but the old sink and tub had so much character I couldn’t bring myself to swap them out. Ended up spending around $14k, mostly because the pipes were a disaster and needed a full overhaul.
Honestly, I think the quirks are half the fun. Those magazine bathrooms look great, but they never feel like someone actually lives there. Give me a creaky floor and a weirdly placed window any day. It’s those little things that make a place memorable, even if it means the budget takes a hit here and there.
Keeping the old fixtures was a solid move. Those vintage sinks and tubs have way more personality than anything you’d find at a big box store, even if they’re not always the most practical. Plumbing is always the wild card—doesn’t matter how carefully you budget, there’s always something lurking behind the walls.
- $14k for a full overhaul, especially with 1920s pipes, honestly sounds about right (painful as it is).
- I totally get what you mean about the quirks. I tried to “modernize” my last bathroom but ended up missing the weird built-in hamper and the slightly crooked window.
- Sometimes it’s worth spending a little extra to keep the stuff that gives the house its soul, even if it means patching instead of replacing.
Not every space needs to look like a showroom. Lived-in beats picture-perfect any day, at least for me.
I totally relate to the “plumbing wild card” thing—my budget got nuked by a surprise leak behind the old tile. Here’s how my first bathroom reno shook out, step by step:
1. Demo & Discovery: $1,200 (found some ancient pipes that looked like they belonged in a museum)
2. Plumbing fixes: $3,500 (ouch)
3. Tile & floor: $2,000 (went with classic hex tile—worth it)
4. Paint & patching: $400
5. Kept the original tub and sink, just reglazed them: $900
6. Fixtures & lighting: $1,100
All in, I landed around $9k, but I did a lot of the painting and demo myself. If I’d replaced the tub or went for all-new everything, it would’ve easily hit $14k like you mentioned.
“Sometimes it’s worth spending a little extra to keep the stuff that gives the house its soul, even if it means patching instead of replacing.”
Couldn’t agree more. My slightly chipped sink has more character than anything new. It’s not showroom-perfect, but it feels like home. If you’re on the fence about keeping something quirky, I say patch it up and see how it feels living with it for a while. Sometimes those “imperfections” end up being your favorite part.
