Furniture maker Byron Pritchard grew up in Hoxton, East London, long before it became one of the most desirable postcodes in the city. Raised by a single mother alongside his brother and sister, he learned early on the value of independence, practical problem-solving and making the most of what was available to him. Determined to forge a different path, he studied Furniture Design at Kingston University before moving to Berlin, where he continued to develop his creative identity and worldview.

 

Today, Byron is known for his beautifully crafted furniture and interiors, creating pieces that balance functionality, craftsmanship and a deep understanding of how people actually live. His work is rooted in practicality rather than decoration; spaces and objects designed not simply to be admired, but to be used, inhabited and enjoyed. That philosophy extends to his own family home, where he and his partner Hollie Bowden transformed an oversized bedroom into a generous family bathroom built around an enormous reclaimed bath.

 

In this conversation, Byron reflects on memory, fatherhood, the smells and rituals that shaped his childhood, and why a bathroom can reveal more about a person than almost any other room in the house. From Dove soap and cocoa butter in 1980s Hoxton to designing a space where his own three daughters can gather, he explores the intimate connection between bathing, home and family life.

MY FIRST BATH MEMORY

One of my earliest memories is being in the bath with my dad. I didn’t really grow up with him, but it’s one of my earliest memories as a child overall, and one of my only memories of him. I just remember being very young, being in the bath with him before I then didn’t see him for a very long time. It’s definitely a happy memory. I must have been a baby. Looking back, it’s strange that one of my strongest memories of my father is connected to a bath, but that’s the memory that’s stayed with me.

 

 

 

My father was in and out of our lives. My brother, sister and I were raised by my mum in Hoxton. My mum was the parent. We grew up with my mum’s family around us. We actually had a happy childhood. There was a loving, caring family around us and we had what we needed in that respect. There was no resentment because we grew up happy.

 

THE SMELL OF LINGERING

 

Bathing has always been connected to home for me. When I think about the smells of home, it’s Palmolive and Dove soap. Then, when I’d go to my grandparents’ house, it’d be Imperial Leather. Those are the smells I remember. The thing about a bathroom is that a person lingers there. That’s very important, that lingering. The way someone leaves a bathroom, the way they clean up after themselves, or don’t, it’s all very intimate. You walk into a bathroom and something of that person is still there.

 

 

UNDER INDULGENCE AND SELF RELIANCE.

Growing up, you develop strategies that help you get through life. They’re very useful at the time. In my case, a lot of those strategies came from my upbringing and the circumstances I grew up in. The challenge is recognising when those same strategies are no longer serving you. The point is to edit them. The things that helped you struggle through difficult periods of life don’t always work when you’ve started making something of yourself. I’ve come to realise that anything that’s hindering your progress now isn’t necessarily a bad strategy and it isn’t wrong. It’s just what you used to get to where you are. The challenge is knowing when it’s time to change it.

 

 

 

FINDING YOUR IDENTITY

I decided quite early on that I wasn’t going to follow the status quo. I decided I was going to get into education, and I sort of steamrolled my way into college and then steamrolled my way into university. I went to Kingston and studied furniture design. Once I got there, I didn’t miss a day. I didn’t miss a lecture. I didn’t miss a tutorial. I was kind of a model student.

 

That was my separation from what I thought my life was supposed to be. It was my separation from the status quo and from my early identity.  

 

After university, I made the decision to move to Berlin straight away. University had been formative and I didn’t want that process to stop. I wanted to carry on seeing the world and exploring things. I wasn’t ready to come back and fall back into something. I wasn’t ready for London yet.  

 

 

When I eventually came back, I found myself back in Hoxton and East London just as everyone seemed to be gravitating towards it. That’s where I’d started. I’d gone to school on Mare Street and I didn’t remember it being a safe place or a nice place. I remembered having to have my wits about me. Then suddenly I’d been to university, I’d been to Berlin, I’d explored the arts and become involved in the creative industries, and now I was back in the same places while everyone else seemed to be embracing them.  

 

I always had this notion of trying to suppress my instinct about those places. People would talk about Clapton or Mare Street and celebrate them. Coming back forced me to reconcile those two realities. The place people were celebrating wasn’t the place I had grown up in, yet both versions were true. Places change, just as people do. Part of growing older is learning how to hold multiple truths about the same thing.

 

 

 

BUILDING A FAMILY HOME

 

I first met Hollie when a mutual friend asked me to go round to her flat in East London to help with a plumbing issue. At the time, I was building restaurants, bars and nightclubs in and around Dalston. Although Hollie lived in East London, most of her friendship group was in West London, so we didn’t have much crossover.

 

We would occasionally cross paths and developed a friendship over the next ten years, until one day we met at a friend’s concert. We fell for each other and realised how many common interests we shared. That eventually led to three beautiful children, a full and intense house renovation, and a family life that I wouldn’t change for the world.

 

 

When we moved into our house, it had five or six bedrooms, but the bathroom was tiny and didn’t even have a bath. It only had a shower. So we ended up taking one of the larger bedrooms and converting it into a bathroom. Hollie was working on a project for Ronojoy Dam and the bath ended up being a little too big for his house so we took it. We then had this huge bathtub that then became the starting point for the whole room. 

 

 

 

Most people design a bathroom and then fit a bath into the available space. We did the opposite. The bath became the centre of gravity. Once we knew that was staying, everything else had to work around it. Hollie had found these beautiful tiles from Balineum and was completely determined to use them. We ended up compartmentalising the room, creating a more enclosed area around the toilet and allowing the rest of the room to remain open. The result is a bathroom that feels incredibly generous. It’s not precious or formal. It’s designed to be lived in. Five people can use it comfortably. It works as a family space. Most importantly, it encourages people to spend time there.  

 

 

 

The process of designing it was intense because Hollie has a very clear vision and she makes decisions quickly. My role is usually to interpret people’s visions and work out how to realise them. So there was always this tension between the practical side of things and what Hollie wanted. It was actually a positive tension because everything was very full-on and full steam ahead. A lot got done in a very short period of time. She knows what she wants almost immediately.

 

 

My role is slightly different. I’m always thinking about how things will actually work. I’m constantly asking questions. How will this function? How will people move through the space? What happens when five people are trying to use it at once? My training as a designer means I naturally think through practical problems. Hollie pushes things forward and creates momentum. I slow things down and work out how to make them real. Somehow that became a strangely productive way of working.

 

 

My favourite part of the bathroom is probably the shower. I do love the bath, but the shower is what I use most. It’s got this lovely big shower head and it has rainforest vibes. There’s even a plant in there. It just feels like a really nice space to be.

Being a father of three, the bathroom is one of the only places I’ve got to be alone and get my own time. 

BYRON'S BATHING ROUTINE

 

PREPARE

 

When I do have a bath, I don’t really do candles or incense. I’ll usually put something on an iPad or my phone. Usually a comedy. Something that makes me laugh. More often than not, it’s something I’ve already watched before. It’s one of the few times when I can properly switch off and have some time to myself. I know people like to think of bath time as being holistic and peaceful, with candles and all that, but the reality is I’ll probably be watching something.

 

 

PURIFY

 

Funny enough, I discovered the DENARII shower oil completely by accident. Hollie had it sitting on the side and I found myself using it. I didn’t ask her where it came from. I knew it was something she’d been given, but I just started using it. It was the smoky one, the incense-y one. It actually made me feel quite nostalgic. The fact that it was an oil as well made it feel different. It felt oily and soapy at the same time. It made me feel like I was indulging without really indulging. That’s probably the best way I can describe it.

 

 

I’m generally quite an in-and-out person when it comes to washing. A shower for me is usually very functional. So using a shower oil felt unusual. It reminded me a little bit of Castile soap, which I’ve used before. The thing about Castile soap is that it almost falls through your hands. It’s like an oily water. But I really enjoyed using DENARII and I still use it now. It’s probably what I’m going to keep using.  

 

My grandad used to say, “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” but I’ve never really had that mantra. 

SOAK

 

Because of my work, I feel like I'm gruff, and I almost treat myself to bathing, so when I decide to have a bath, then I fully commit. I’ll run this big bath, make it very hot, and just soak. I’m not naturally indulgent. 

 

In fact, I’m basically not an indulgent person at all. But I’m learning, slowly, especially through Hollie, to indulge a little more and to actually look after myself, whether that’s treatments or simply taking the time to enjoy things.

 

Especially now, having a family and everything that comes with that, I’ve started to make space for it. I take the time to revel in a bath and in the peace that comes with it.

One thing I’ve realised is that the way somebody leaves a bathroom is actually very important. Visually, the way someone cleans up after themselves, or doesn’t, is quite intimate. Bathrooms tell you a lot about people. There’s something that lingers after they’ve gone, both physically and emotionally.

 

 

SEAL

My mum’s white. My mum’s from Yorkshire. But there was always cocoa butter in the house! It was just part of our routine. Looking back, it says something about the world I grew up in. Hoxton felt genuinely mixed. My friends were Jamaican, Turkish, African, Chinese, Irish. People borrowed from one another’s cultures without making a big thing of it. My mum using cocoa butter didn’t feel unusual. It was just what worked. 

 

Products we grow up with become emotional objects. They stop being products and become people. Imperial Leather reminds me of my grandparents. Cocoa butter reminds me of my mum. Dove reminds me of home. 

 

BEING A FATHER

I find it difficult to put into words what being a dad means to me. We touched on it earlier when we were talking about the bathroom and bath time. Having this wonderful big bathroom is really precious. It’s a special part of family life. Having my children around me is the thing that gets me up in the morning. It’s what I want to go home for.  The bathroom gives us the opportunity to all be in one place together in this house that we’ve built.  

 

 

The girls know what I do for a living. They say, “My dad makes tables and beds.” I think they believe I can make anything. If we need something, they just say, “Make it.” Which is nice.  That’s probably the simplest way I can explain it. Having my children around me is what matters most. It’s what gets me up in the morning, and it’s what I want to go home for.  

 

 

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