Do You Really Want a Freestanding Bathtub?

When we first purchased our home thirteen-years ago, there was a whopper-sized garden tub in the master en suite. What is a garden tub? You might ask. Well, the term garden tub originated in eighteenth-century France. At that time, only wealthy citizens could afford indoor plumbing in their homes. The French elite would sometimes place their deep soaking bathtub—deep enough that they could climb in for a full-body soak—near a window. This allowed the bather to relax while gazing outside at their private garden, hence the term “garden tub.”

Not only did this mammoth tub take up valuable floor space in our en suite, but I would imagine the difficulty of climbing in and out of it safely, not to mention the hassle of cleaning it. Since my husband and I prefer showers, we agreed to have the built-in garden tub removed before we moved into the house. 

During the past 5 years or so, I’ve seen a trend for freestanding bathtubs in the design industry. You’ve probably seen them before. They often show up on HGTV design shows and elsewhere as they’re viewed as something that’s really cool to include in homes. A freestanding tub is all about a “wow-factor.”

Over time I’ve longed for a standalone soaking tub. I discovered they come in an insane variety of materials, designs, and finish options. Freestanding tubs comes with a wide array of shapes including oval, rectangular, and circular, as well as in a wide array of bathtub materials, including wood, cast iron, acrylic, and copper. My husband said, “If you want a bathtub, then it’s up to you to pick the one you want.” I certainly had my work cut out for me.

My vision was a gorgeous posh model single-slipper tub. I didn’t want a classical Victorian-styled clawfoot tub with the ball-and-claw design. I wanted the sleek new tub to have the appearance of a slipper, with one end raised higher. And I didn’t want the tub to have any legs, so the tub would sit on the floor. In my mind’s eye I imagined I’d light a candle, drop in some scented bath oil, and relax with a good book. 

Unlike the previous built-in garden-tub that came with our house, most freestanding bathtubs are installed in the middle of the room. If we had a freestanding tub installed away from the walls, there’d be no reason to install grab bars. 

I’d have to invent a way to stash soap, shampoo, and conditioner at my fingertips. Perhaps I could use a bath caddy or a freestanding stool beside the bath. This would be an easy fix.

After a lot of research, I decided I definitely wanted a single slipper acrylic tub. Let me tell you a story. Not so very long ago, I had an opportunity to visit an out-of-town plumbing and lighting gallery showroom. I was super excited! My husband doesn’t have any interest in decorating. And he’s not a fan of shopping at showrooms or big box stores. However, because this particular showroom was an hour away, Paul offered to go with me.

Once we arrived, I told the receptionist that I knew pretty much what I was looking for. So, she set us free to wander. Eyes wider than a child’s on Christmas morning, we made our way into the vast showroom, with its high ceilings. We strolled through the gorgeous showroom in amazement. There were so many beautiful items to appreciate. I estimated at least a thousand beautiful pendants, stunning modern chandeliers, and every imaginable kind of ceiling-hung light fixture for every budget. The showroom offered just about anything you’d ever need to create a perfect spa-like bathroom: sinks, tubs, faucets, showerheads, shower enclosures, toilets, and accessories.

I eventually came upon the bathtub of my dreams. I oohed and aahed, letting my eyes linger on this tub. This may seem like a silly and bizarre exercise, but I wanted to sit in the model tub before I purchased it.

So, I placed my handbag on the floor by the tub. Then I raised my leg upward and inward to gain access to tub. But I missed and hit the steep side of the tub. Ouch! I heard my husband chuckle behind me. From my perspective: I traveled this far to find this tub, so I was determined to get in it. There was a high step clearance, so I held unto the side of the tub and raised my leg as high as I could. In fact it was as high as I was capable of raising my leg. Bingo! Now I had one leg inside and one outside of the bathtub. I grabbed a hold of the sides and carefully swung my other leg over. I did it!  I was standing in the tub of my dreams! I’m sure I must’ve had a proud smile plastered across my face after I sat down. The high back supported my back and neck. I was able to stretch my legs out with plenty of room leftover at the end of the tub. Although I’m not a small-bottomed woman, there was plenty of wiggle room on both sides. I felt cozy and comfortable. The sides of the ultra-trendy tub were tall and thin. And the tub was very deep. I closed my eyes for a moment. I visualized soaking in this tub.

“So, what do you think?” The sound of Paul’s voice snapped me out of my daydream.

A smile spread slowly across my face. “It’s exactly what I’ve wanted,” I replied. 

So, then I proceeded to get out of the tub. I grabbed the top edge of the tub which was above my shoulders. Uh oh. I have no upper body strength to pull myself up. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t lift myself out of the bathtub. I tried every way possible. So, Paul came around to the side of the tub. He tried to lift me up, but it was my bum shoulder. I let out a painful moan. Immediately Paul let go of my arm.

So next, I slowly raised my knees from the floor of the bathtub. But I discovered two problems: My knees only bend so far and there was no slip resistant texture on the bottom of the tub. I started to worry about my predicament. I felt embarrassed when some customers walked by and saw us. Remember, this is a high-end showroom. 

I’m going to level with you. I’m a senior citizen. But there was a time I climbed Mount Vesuvius, an active volcano. Additionally I gave birth to two children. Plus I ran some half marathons. But I have never—not in my life—been stuck in a bathtub. Well, more accurately, I couldn’t get outta one! 

Eventually, a solution came to me. I asked Paul, “Please stand at the foot of the tub and face me.” I scooched toward forward, making slow, incremental movements. At long last I reached the end of the bathtub. My voice took on a more urgent tone, “Reach for my hands.” Paul pulled me forward. I was able to stand up. Still holding on to my husband’s secured grip, I lifted one leg to bring it over to the outside of the tub. I had one leg inside and one outside of the bathtub. I balanced myself on one foot, as I lifted my other leg as high as I could, then swung it out. Although I was exhausted, I felt relieved that my feet stood on the lavish showroom floor and not inside the slippery tub.  

Suddenly I said, “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

During the ride home, I thought about aging in place. I’m quickly approaching 70. (When I was younger, I used to think people who were 70 were old. Now I think they are cool people!) I came to the realization that, for me, a freestanding tub without grab bars is a safety hazard.

After we arrived home, a sly smile leaked from the corner of my husband’s mouth. And then he started laughing.

Caught off guard, I asked, “What’s so funny?” 

“It’s a good idea I went with you. If I hadn’t been there, you might still be stuck in that bathtub.”

So, if you dream of purchasing an elegant and classy freestanding tub, I encourage you to try it out first.

See you back here in two weeks.