Mistakes were made.
Back in 2009, when we were building our house, we decided we were going to do The Right Thing™: reclaimed bathroom fixtures for two of our three bathrooms. Reuse. Character. History. Surely the planet would send us a handwritten thank-you note.
Except for the toilets. Those had to be modern low-flush versions, because I’m many things, but I’m not “19th-century water-waster” committed.
So we drove out to a reclaimed architectural place in Ithaca, NY that we found online. This was 2009, when “research” meant a few forums, some blurry photos, and a comment section guy who sounded confident enough to trust.
We came home with:
- three pedestal sinks (two from Colgate University)
- one cast iron insert tub
- one clawfoot tub
We believed they were in good shape. Just dirty. A little cleaning and we’d be bathing in vintage perfection.
Plot Twist: They Were Not Just Dirty
Fast forward to installation time, when we looked closer and realized the cast iron tub had a broken foot.
Not metaphorically. An actual tub foot.
I took it to a local welder, who gave me the look welders reserve for optimistic homeowners and said he wasn’t sure how it would go with cast iron. But he welded it back on and it held. Since it wasn’t really load-bearing, we called it a win.
The outside of the tub was pretty beat up, so I spray-painted it. I found a paint that looked like cast iron and, strangely enough, that part worked out really well.
Our builder installed the tubs and hooked up the plumbing. Then we tried to clean them.
That’s when we realized the tubs weren’t “dirty.” The porcelain coating had been damaged, likely from years of being cleaned with the wrong products. The kind that promise sparkle and deliver permanent regret.
By that point, everything was already installed, so we did what homeowners do: we sighed and decided to live with it “for a while.”
Enter: Iron Water, the Final Boss
To make things more fun, we also had iron in our water. Iron plus damaged porcelain is a special kind of nightmare. The stains don’t just show up. They settle in.
Even after we later installed an iron filter, the tubs never really looked clean. Clean-adjacent, maybe. But never clean.
We lived like this until around 2021, when we decided to fix some tile issues (which is definitely another post). That kicked off my next round of research: how to fix the tub surfaces.
Everything I found pointed to the same answer:
You don’t restore a bad tub surface. You refinish it.
DIY kits sounded tempting, but reviews were consistent. Getting a good finish was difficult, and if you messed it up, you’d be stuck with it.
So I researched local professionals instead. Reviews, warranties, photos, the works. Eventually we chose Perma Ceram Westchester. They said they would come back and fix anything we weren’t happy with.
That promise made me feel both better and worse.
The Truck Omen
On the day they showed up, I walked past the truck and glanced inside.
It looked like multiple white paint bombs had gone off in the back. Like those porch-pirate glitter-bomb videos, but with tub coating. White splatter everywhere. Absolute chaos.
That was my sign.
I ignored it.
I should have paid them to leave. I did not.
The Refinish: “Technically White”
They worked for a few hours. I heard machines, fans, and smelled the coating. The house had that unmistakable “someone is spray painting indoors” vibe.
At first glance, the tubs looked okay. But once the light hit them, we saw drips, overspray, and an overall finish best described as “a solid first attempt.”
I called to complain. To their credit, they did come back. A different guy returned about a week later and fixed many of the issues. After that, the tubs looked almost acceptable.
Almost.
We were given a few rules:
- Do not put bottles on the tub edges, where people normally keep shampoo and soap, because they can stain
- The surface was prone to chipping
- They would fix chips within five years
That first rule turned out to be very real. We did what every normal human does and put shampoo bottles on the edge of the tub. They stained it. Quickly.
Those are not the kinds of care instructions you want for something you bathe in.
Later, I also noticed some overspray on our wide plank wood floors. Not a lot, but enough to be annoying.
And yes, I know. Wood floors in a bathroom. Spare me. We were going for historical authenticity. Also it was cheaper. Also I was tired of making decisions.
The Durability Test Lasted About a Week
Within a week, our kids had chipped the surface. Between that and the staining, we were already done with the whole refinishing experience.
Over time, the coating started peeling. Not minor wear. Chunks.
There was technically a warranty, but I had zero interest in restarting that process. Sometimes you just want everyone to stop touching your bathroom.
We also refinished the clawfoot tub, and that “worked” mostly because we barely use it. Even then, the final finish still wasn’t great. It’s just had the benefit of living a quiet life, undisturbed by kids, bottles, and daily reality.
Is There Any Way to Restore a Cast Iron Tub Without Refinishing?
I couldn’t accept that refinishing was the only option, so I started researching again.
Most places said cast iron tubs can’t really be restored, only refinished. But I found one guy online who said you might be able to polish the surface first, depending on the condition.
That was enough encouragement for me to try it myself.
Removing the Failed Epoxy: A Four-Step Journey
Removing the old epoxy refinish turned into a four-step process, each step slightly more desperate than the last.
1) Citrus Paint Remover (Hope Phase)
I started with a citrus-based remover I already had. It worked a little. Slowly. It softened the coating but didn’t make fast progress.
2) “Stronger” Chemical Remover (False Confidence Phase)
Next I tried what I assumed was a stronger chemical paint remover from a big box store. Fewer friendly words on the label. More warnings.
It worked worse than the citrus remover.
3) Aircraft Paint Remover, VOC-Compliant (Questionable Judgment Phase)
After more research, I learned professionals often use aircraft paint remover. The truly aggressive stuff isn’t sold in New York anymore, so I bought the VOC-compliant version.
It clearly stated: DO NOT USE ON TUBS.
I asked the guy at the auto parts store why. He said it can eat plumbing.
I decided I could work around that by stuffing and sealing the drain openings.
Full ventilation, respirator, plastic everywhere, masking tape, duct tape. The whole setup.
And after all that?
It worked even worse than the citrus remover.
Mistakes were made.
4) Back to Citrus Remover (Acceptance Phase)
Defeated but persistent, I went back to the citrus remover. This time I applied it thick, let it sit as long as possible, and did multiple passes.
Finally, it worked. With enough patience, scraping, and repetition, most of the epoxy came off.
The ironic part: because the original refinishing job had such poor surface prep, the coating was easier to remove than it would have been if they’d done a good job.
Sometimes incompetence helps you. You take the win.
Can You Buff a Tub Like Car Paint? Sort Of.
Once the tub was free of epoxy, the porcelain wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t much worse than before refinishing.
I asked an AI tool whether there was any way to restore the surface. It basically said “not really,” and suggested sanding if I wanted to refinish again.
I didn’t want to refinish again.
So I tried polishing it like car paint.
Here’s what I did:
- wet sanded with fine grit sandpaper, gradually moving finer
- used rubbing compound with a power polishing pad
- followed with polishing compound
- finished with a sealing wax
It did not look new.
But it did look better than when we bought it, which counts as a victory in this story.
The Mystery “Acid” Marks (That Were There From Day One)
One strange thing remains. The tub has what look like acid burns in the finish. They’re visible in sunlight and won’t budge.
Important detail: they were already there when we bought the tub. This wasn’t caused by refinishing or paint removal. It’s just part of the tub’s… backstory.
Not with sanding. Not with compound. Not with polishing.
They’re still there today. Until we decide to redo that bathroom entirely, occasional waxing is where I’ve landed.
Mistakes were made. Many by me.
What I Think About Tub Refinishing Now
This is a cautionary tale, so here’s the caution.
Tub refinishing can make sense if you:
- need a tub to look better temporarily
- are buying time before a remodel
- understand it’s a coating, not a permanent fix
It starts to feel questionable if the goal is purely to make it look good for a quick sale, knowing there’s a decent chance it’ll chip or peel later. I’m not saying refinishing is always shady. I am saying I personally wouldn’t feel good about it.
As for tub inserts, I want to believe they’re better. Intuitively, they should last longer than a sprayed coating. But I keep hearing they often don’t, which makes no sense and yet seems to be true.
If you’re deciding what to do with a bad tub, be honest about your time horizon. Five years is one plan. Twenty years is another. And if you have kids who treat shampoo bottles like hockey pucks, plan accordingly.
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