I’ve been a professional carpet cleaner in London for longer than I care to admit, and over the years, I’ve scrubbed, steamed, and shampooed my way into some of the most famous homes in the country. You’d be surprised at how many A-list musicians need a bloke like me to rescue their carpets from the absolute state they leave them in. From rock gods to pop princesses, I’ve seen it all—spilled champagne, glitter explosions, and one very questionable stain that I still lose sleep over.
Now, I can’t name names (not unless I fancy a lawsuit), but let’s just say that if you’ve ever sung along to a chart-topping UK hit, there’s a fair chance I’ve been on my knees scrubbing that person’s living room floor. It’s a weird job, but someone’s got to do it. So, what’s it really like cleaning carpets for music royalty? Let me tell you.
Unlike Their Owners, Carpets Need The Same Care As Yours
Musicians might live in multi-million-pound mansions, but their carpets are just as vulnerable to red wine, muddy boots, and whatever horror a house party can throw at them. I once cleaned a rug that had so much confetti embedded in it, I felt like I was vacuuming the remains of an entire New Year’s Eve celebration. And don’t get me started on the aftermath of pets—some of these artists own dogs that seem to have an agenda against flooring.
You’d think the rich and famous would have carpets made from rare, indestructible materials, but no. Most of them have the same plush, overpriced wool that stains just as easily as your nan’s living room carpet. I once had to remove an entire pint of lager from a cream rug. I won’t say whose house it was, but let’s just say they’re known for singing about heartbreak and probably caused me some of my own that day.
The biggest difference? These carpets cost more than my first car, and that’s a terrifying thought when you’re about to douse them in cleaning solution. I treat every job as if it’s my own home because if I don’t, I’ll either ruin a priceless piece of flooring or be chased out by a very angry assistant holding an invoice.
Even The Biggest Music Stars Are Surprisingly Down-To-Earth
You might expect massive egos and diva behaviour, but the truth is, most musicians are just normal people who happen to be famous. Sure, some of them have questionable taste in home decor (one artist had a living room that looked like a psychedelic fever dream), but in general, they’re just like the rest of us—only with more awards on their shelves.
I’ve been offered cups of tea by pop stars whose faces are on billboards. I’ve had rock legends help me move furniture like we were old mates shifting a sofa on moving day. And once, a certain well-known rapper sat on the stairs chatting with me about football while I scrubbed the remnants of what I can only assume was an indoor barbecue off his hallway carpet.
Of course, there are a few exceptions. Some musicians never appear at all, leaving everything to assistants, which is fine by me—less pressure when I inevitably look like a sweaty mess halfway through the job. But the ones who do come out for a chat? They’re usually just happy to have someone who isn’t fawning over them or asking for a selfie.
Confidentiality And Security: It Comes With The Territory
Working in celebrity homes means dealing with security measures that make you feel like you’re infiltrating a secret government facility. I’ve been buzzed through gates, scanned by cameras, and once, I had to hand over my phone before entering because the artist was paranoid about leaks. (Honestly, mate, I was more interested in getting the coffee stain out of your rug than taking pictures of your kitchen.)
Non-disclosure agreements are part of the gig. It’s not just about keeping quiet on who I work for—it’s about respecting their privacy. Musicians don’t want people knowing they spilled an entire bottle of Merlot in their recording studio or that their dog mistook a £5,000 Persian rug for a toilet. And I get it. If I were famous, I wouldn’t want the world knowing that I had to call in a carpet cleaner because I’d dropped an entire plate of spaghetti Bolognese on the floor.
I’ve also had to deal with the occasional security guard who treats me like I’m a criminal mastermind rather than a bloke with a vacuum. I once turned up at a property and was greeted by two very large men in suits who wanted to check my equipment case for hidden cameras. I opened it up to reveal exactly what I said I had: a carpet cleaning machine and some very unexciting bottles of detergent. They still looked suspicious, but eventually, I was let in—under supervision, of course.
How To Stay Professional When You’re Starstruck At Work
I like to think I’m a professional, but even I have my moments. There’s something surreal about scrubbing mud out of a carpet while one of the biggest voices in UK music is sitting in the next room, casually scrolling through their phone. I’ve had to remind myself not to hum along when I realise I’m cleaning a house that belongs to the very person whose song is currently playing on the radio.
The trick is to act like it’s no big deal. I once found myself in a home that had actual BRIT Awards lined up on a shelf, gleaming like little gold reminders of the superstar who owned them. Did I want to take a closer look? Of course. Did I? Absolutely not. Instead, I focused on the stain in front of me like it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen.
Some artists make it easier than others. One music icon came in, looked at the state of their carpet, and just sighed, “Mate, I don’t even know what happened here.” That kind of self-awareness makes it hard to be starstruck because, in that moment, they’re just another person dealing with the consequences of a wild night.
Of course, there’s always that one job where you’re standing in a house, realising that the person who wrote your favourite song is currently watching you work. In those moments, I just remind myself of one thing: carpets don’t care about fame. They just need a good clean, and that’s what I’m there for.
At the end of the day, cleaning carpets for music stars isn’t much different from cleaning carpets for anyone else. Sure, the houses are bigger, the furniture is more expensive, and there’s a higher chance of tripping over a Grammy, but dirt is dirt. And as long as there are musicians throwing house parties, spilling drinks, and generally making a mess of their expensive floors, I’ll be there—shampoo bottle in hand, trying not to sing along.
