Transforming a 1960s coastal bach into a home
Like many New Zealanders, I spent memorable summers running amok and barefoot at country and coastal baches. Designed for kicking back and getting in touch with nature, baches are an iconic part of New Zealand culture - they’re our version of the quintessential cottage or cabin, albeit more ‘stripped back’. Normally made from wood with an aluminium roof, baches are a no-frills build and are simple modular designs.
Yet despite their significance in New Zealand culture, the humble bach has become a dying species. Their basic, often bare-bones construction—the very characteristic that made them venerated—has also made them a thing of the past. As more holiday towns attract a growing number of city dwellers who want a lifestyle change, new suburbs are being developed for a growing population, and traditional Kiwi baches continue to be replaced with large modern houses.
While there’s nothing wrong with new houses, the wild-haired, barefoot 10-year-old in me is mourning the end of an era in New Zealand’s architectural history. To me, the baches of yesteryears epitomise New Zealand living - laidback, unassuming, a little DIY, and rough around the edges. They symbolise the New Zealand I grew up in and call home.
It was fitting that in 2020, at the height of the global pandemic and after almost four years in Melbourne, my husband and I moved back to New Zealand and bought one of our own. Our little slice of Kiwiana is a cosy 120sqm 1960s bach in the heart of Snells Beach, right across from picturesque Kawau Bay. Extensive renovation had already been done throughout the property - including a modern, very grey kitchen, new bathrooms and new flooring, none of which were made from good quality materials and featured far too much grey. The interior aesthetic paid zero homage to its stunning coastal surroundings or history.
While it felt wasteful to re-renovate the house, after weighing up the pros and cons (the major pro being we can live in a place that truly feels like us, and the obvious con being the actual cost of the project), we decided to go for it. Armed with a very tight budget and a truckload of optimism, we set out to create the seaside bach we'd envisioned: cosy, a little old school and colourful.
Here are our biggest transformations (so far)
New flooring
First to go were the flimsy grey laminate floors and carpet, which were replaced with highly durable engineered oak flooring from Denmark. The team at Underfoot Flooring did an awesome job with the installation, which only took three days to complete. The floors were installed throughout the house, adding a more coastal style, warmth, and a seamless flow.
A cosy kitchen
We sold the existing kitchen cabinetry on Trademe and had new classic shaker-style cabinets installed by Kitchen Depot in the North Shore. We wanted a kitchen that was warm, inviting, and timeless. Considering the small open-plan layout of the kitchen/dining area and our minimalist cooking habits, we chose to go without a kitchen pantry. Instead, we opted for open shelves made from reclaimed wood and iron tubes that doubled as storage and a display unit.
Colourful bathroom
So far, my favourite renovation transformation has been our main bathroom. We let our creativity run wild, from grey and drab to colourful and fabulous. Boldly patterned floral tiles (a throwback to its 1960s beginnings), a vintage-style vanity, and a gooseneck showerhead added much-needed personality to the space.
Moody laundry
Our laundry renovation was one of the first projects we ticked off our to-do list. As the smallest room in the house with the least sunlight, we went for a ‘moody’ laundry makeover. Keeping with our simple approach, we installed a floating concrete basin from Cast Creative paired with brass tapware, installed a reclaimed wood bench and shelf, and painted the walls a dark green. The result was both simple and dramatic.
A year and half later, we are at the tail end of our renovation project. There is still a lot to do, but as every tradesperson I’ve spoken to has told me countless times, renovations are marathons, not sprints.