This vanity begins as solid walnut and teak, each board chosen by hands with thirty years at the lumber stacks, then dried twenty days in a temperature-controlled kiln so the moisture leaves before the first cut. The maker squares the back to the wall, keeps the front edge as the tree grew it, and seals every face — waterproof coat, then PU — because a splash zone earns a film, not bare oil.
Most bathrooms stay the coldest room you own — tile, porcelain, chrome, nothing that warms to a bare hand at six a.m. Thirty inches of walnut change that without touching the thermostat. If you have heard wood rots in a bathroom, the truth is narrower: black spots are mildew feeding on soap film, not the wood failing — wipe it down and it never starts. The room stops feeling borrowed and starts feeling built.