There is nothing more stunning than real estate listings for a place that is just bonkers ridiculous. Shitter in the kitchen? Yes, please. And entire Wild West-themed town? Sign me up. A whole palace that looks like it was built entirely on goey money? Hook it to my veins. But never before have I seen a place with a spa bath set into the kitchen bench.
Until now.
Ever wanted to finely simmer yourself in a broiling broth while also watching over a pot of stew on the stove doing the same thing? Well for the right price you can do both of those things at this apartment in the heart of Darlinghurst in Sydney’s inner east.
The apartment, which holds prime pozzie right near Hyde Park, looks nice enough from the outset. Open plan bathroom with floor to ceiling tiles, big white walls with sneaky cupboards and storage, built-in robes, engineered Oak flooring (whatever that means), sleek kitchen with Caesarstone finishes, hydrotherapy spa bath in the corner of the kitchen, mood lighting.
Wait, hang on.
No, yep, that’s legit. This place has a whole-ass spa bath in the corner of the kitchen/living/laundry space. Why? Who fucken knows, man.
Look at it.
I love how it’s laid out like sink, dishwasher, stove and oven, washing machine, SPA. Like it’s a totally normal part of the room and shouldn’t be considered any more than any other part of the room?
Is this even in any way hygienic? Can you even do this, legally? I mean, clearly you can but also just because you could, certainly doesn’t mean you should.
And hang on, how do you even get into the tub? It’s at bench height so surely you can’t expect me to just climb up the side there fully in the nude so I can plunge myself into the tub?
Am I somehow meant to hoof myself up onto the bench, miraculously not collect the tap with my bare anoos, narrowly miss kicking everything off the kitchen bench, so I can have a little splishy splash?
What happens when I want to get out? Do I drop grotty bathwater all over the space where I’m also preparing my next meal, casting bubbles and tepid water all across my wonderful dinner and beautiful inner-city pad?
At first, I thought the whole spa area was connected to the bathroom on the other side of the wall which would make at least some kind of sense, especially for excess water runoff, but according to the floorplan–no. Entirely walled off. No connection whatsoever.
Look, I’ll admit, it’d be great to be able to grab snacks while in the bath and also watch TV from the bath, and swing those big windows open and drink a cocktail in the tub while watching the world outside.
And if you want this very specific kitchen spa fantasy to be your reality (just forget about all the water mess, it’ll be fine I’m sure) you could own this slice of slightly-troubling kitchen-bathroom chaos for around $660k.
A steal.
