Architect Transforms 40-Square-Foot Bathroom With Psychedelic Wallpaper and Corner Mirror

A joyful little jewel box hidden inside the home
How the architect described the bathroom after adding the corner mirror and psychedelic wallpaper.
Mark

So the real problem wasn't just that it was ugly—the door literally wouldn't open?

Mimi

Right. The toilet was positioned so the door would hit it. That's not a design choice, that's a broken room. Julia had to move the toilet entirely.

Luke

Do we know if this was a rental or owned? The metadata says "No" for rental-friendly, but I want to be clear on whether Amma could actually make these changes.

Mimi

It was a townhouse, and Amma owned it. She had the freedom to do structural work—moving plumbing, replacing fixtures.

Mark

And the wallpaper—was that the main visual move, or was the mirror equally important?

Mimi

Julia says the mirror was actually harder to execute. She had trouble finding someone to cut it. But once it was in, she describes it as amplifying the space into another dimension.

Luke

That's evocative language, but what does that mean functionally? Does a corner mirror actually make a small room feel bigger, or is that subjective?

Mimi

Mirrors reflect light and create the illusion of depth. In a 40-square-foot room, that's a real spatial effect, not just feeling. But yes, how much bigger it feels is subjective.

Mark

The burgundy tiles—was that a risky choice for a small space?

Mimi

It could have been, but Julia tied it to the wallpaper. One of the rings in the mood ring pattern was burgundy, so the floor echoed the walls. It created coherence instead of chaos.

Luke

Do we have any sense of the budget or timeline for this project?

Mimi

The article doesn't mention either. We know what was done, not what it cost or how long it took.

Mark

What's the takeaway for someone with a small bathroom at home?

Mimi

That small spaces don't have to feel apologetic. Color, intentional mirrors, and functional fixes can turn a cramped room into something joyful.

  • A toilet blocking the door and walls drained of personality had reduced a small bathroom to something people endured rather than enjoyed.
  • The challenge was not merely aesthetic — every structural and decorative decision in forty square feet carries outsized consequence, leaving no room for error or indifference.
  • Gallagher pursued a corner mirror with unusual determination, searching for a craftsperson capable of the precise cut needed to unlock the room's spatial illusion.
  • Psychedelic mood ring wallpaper wrapping walls and ceiling, burgundy ceramic tiles, and a wall-mounted sink worked in concert to dissolve the sense of confinement.
  • The bathroom has landed as what Gallagher calls a joyful jewel box — a room that now functions properly and announces its inhabitants' appetite for color and creative risk.

In a forty-square-foot powder room that could barely open its own door, an architect found not a limitation but an invitation — to prove that the smallest spaces carry the greatest potential for transformation. Julia Gallagher, drawing on a shared family inheritance of creative courage, redesigned her cousin's bathroom in a way that turned constraint into expression, beige into jewel-toned depth, and dysfunction into delight. The project stands as a quiet argument that how we shape our intimate spaces reflects, and perhaps shapes, who we understand ourselves to be.

Julia Gallagher walked into her cousin Amma Phaff's bathroom and recognized a familiar kind of resignation — a toilet so poorly placed the door couldn't fully open, beige walls that asked nothing of anyone, and forty square feet quietly failing the people who used them. As the founder of JAGA Studio, Gallagher understood that small rooms demand more from every decision, not less. She also understood Amma: the two had grown up together under a grandmother who modeled bold color and artistic fearlessness, and Amma wanted her home to carry that same spirit.

The design direction came quickly. Gallagher chose a mood ring wallpaper — swirling, psychedelic, the visual equivalent of a cross-section of bubble gum — and applied it to both walls and ceiling. She grounded the intensity with matte burgundy ceramic tiles on the floor, matching the grout to one of the wallpaper's own rings so that the surfaces spoke to each other rather than competed. The palette was intentional conversation, not decorative noise.

The corner mirror proved the project's most demanding element. Cutting a mirror to fit a corner requires specialized equipment and skill, and finding a craftsperson willing to do it took real effort. But the result justified the search: paired with the wallpaper, the mirror expanded the room into something that felt, if not infinite, then generously open — what Gallagher described as a joyful little jewel box hidden inside the home.

Functional repairs matched the aesthetic ambition. The original toilet, a speckled stainless model that had blocked the door, was replaced with a porcelain one positioned to allow the door to swing freely. The vanity was removed entirely in favor of a wall-mounted sink, reclaiming floor space and reducing visual clutter. What had been a dysfunctional room became one that worked — and one that said something honest about the people living there.

Julia Gallagher stood in her cousin's bathroom and saw a problem that most people would have simply accepted: a toilet positioned so awkwardly that the door couldn't open all the way, walls painted an uninspiring beige, and forty square feet of space that felt smaller than it actually was. As principal architect and founder of JAGA Studio, Gallagher knew that in a room this small, every inch had to work harder. But she also knew something else—her cousin Amma Phaff, whom she'd grown up with, shared a family inheritance of creative fearlessness. Their grandmother had modeled it first, surrounding them with bold color and artistic risk-taking. Now Amma wanted her home to announce that same energy the moment someone walked through the door.

From the start, Gallagher and Phaff agreed on the direction: the bathroom needed color, and it needed a mirror positioned in a way that would trick the eye into seeing more space than existed. Gallagher selected a mood ring wallpaper for both walls and ceiling—a psychedelic pattern that she described as feeling like a cross-section of bubble gum, all swirling rings and impossible hues. To anchor the visual intensity, she chose matte ceramic tiles in warm burgundy for the floor, matching the grout to one of the rings in the wallpaper itself. The palette was deliberate: not random color for its own sake, but color that spoke to itself, that created conversation between surfaces.

The corner mirror turned out to be the most technically demanding element of the entire project. Finding someone willing and able to cut a mirror to fit a corner—a task that sounds simple in theory—proved surprisingly difficult. Gallagher had to search for a craftsperson with the right equipment and skill. But once she found one, the effort paid off immediately. The mirror, positioned with intention, transformed the spatial experience of the room. Suddenly the small bathroom didn't feel cramped; it felt infinite, or at least infinite enough. Gallagher described the effect plainly: the corner mirror paired with the psychedelic wallpaper amplified the space into another dimension, turning the room into what she called a joyful little jewel box hidden inside the home.

Beyond aesthetics, Gallagher addressed the functional failures that had made the space frustrating to use. She replaced the original toilet—a speckled stainless steel model that had blocked the door—with a porcelain toilet positioned with enough clearance that the door could now swing open freely. She removed the original vanity entirely and installed a wall-mounted porcelain sink instead, reclaiming floor space and making the room feel less cluttered. These changes weren't decorative; they were structural improvements that made the bathroom actually work.

What emerged was a space that proved a simple principle: in small rooms, constraint becomes an opportunity. The layout and the wallpaper together transformed not just how the bathroom looked but how it felt to be inside it. A beige, dysfunctional powder room had become a place of warmth and visual surprise—a room that announced something true about the people who lived there, that they were willing to surround themselves with creativity and color, that they understood their home as a place to express who they were.

The layout and wallpaper really transform the functionality and experience of the room.
— Julia Gallagher, architect
A corner mirror detail paired with the psychedelic wallpaper amplifies the space into another dimension, turning the room into a joyful little jewel box hidden inside the home.
— Julia Gallagher
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