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Oh, the Horrors of Homearama!
Posted on 2007.07.26 at 20:40
Back in June, Grace and I flew to Cincinnati specifically to attend Homearama, the home builders’ annual showcase of new designs. You may wonder why I felt the need to go back to Ohio to see new homes, but the fact is that I’m always fascinated to see what is selling where. Plus, it was another opportunity to visit family, and while my ideal vacation does not include the Ohio River Valley when it is 95 degrees and 95% humidity, at least that new-fangled air-conditioning has made it to the sticks.
With great anticipation, my mother-in-law, mom and I drove out to the new development north and east of the city. My father-in-law, dad and husband had opted out at the last minute, as the paternal parents wanted to look at classic cars and my husband conveniently had a sinus infection and was running a fever. And Grace managed to wrangle my in-law’s housekeeper into baby-sitting, so it was just some avid design fiends hitting the new home showcase.
I wish we’d stayed home.
Speaking as someone who believes quite strongly that a person should have whatever home that they can afford and that they have the right to do what they please to said home, as long as those changes are in compliance with any building, development or preservation codes or deed restrictions, Homearama made me ill. The best way to describe what I saw is “wretched excess.” Unmitigated false opulence. Flatulent and unfriendly design.
The first home was simply called “The Courtyard”. At $2.295mm and boasting 9,000 square feet of living area, it had some standard features: a large master suite that had a huge fish tank separating the soaking tub from the party shower (“Party shower” a trademark of my husband, who was rather appalled at the number of people who could potentially fit into the multi-head shower stalls in the master baths in last year’s showcase of homes), an open gourmet kitchen with a “hearth room”, plus two very small bedrooms that were clearly after-thoughts and were tucked away off the kitchen. What “The Courtyard” also had was a media room with stadium style seating (apparently this is a standard feature with Homearama builders, as my in-laws have good friends who own a Homearama home built twelve years ago and it has the same type of room as well), a large courtyard that created a Palladian effect, and a full pub. No, not a bar in a game room. Not even a small side library with a wet bar. An actual could-be-in-Ireland-except-that-the-Iris
The rest of the homes were all in the same vein. One even had a gun closet on prominent display in the library, which was the first room you saw when you entered the house. I will give that house snaps for having a nifty outdoor shower that could be access from either the master bath (complete with requisite soaking tub and party shower) or the master sitting room. That house, like many of the others, had the master suite on the first floor, and the tiny additional bedrooms tucked about a quarter of a mile away on the second floor. I wondered if the people who buy these houses even have kids and if they do, are they living at home? I suppose that some of the prospective buyers must not be childless, as one of the houses had an actual soccer room. It wasn’t a regulation field, but it was about an eighth of a field and was carpeted in astro-turf and had two goals. In the basement.
I did like the outdoor living rooms, as they were well-appointed with ceiling fans, fireplaces, remote-controlled screens, outdoor grills and stoves, fridges and other furniture for lazing away a hot summer’s evening. Of course, this being Ohio, you can only use the outdoor living space for maybe five months out of twelve, but who’s counting?
So, my objections to these homes were many. Unlike my mom and mother-in-law, I do not foresee a “fall of the Roman Empire” scenario in the horrid excess that these homes have. I do wonder if people really think that 9,000 square feet, complete with pubs, soccer rooms and gun closets is going to make them feel better at the end of the day. It seems to me that a home should be a retreat from the world, but it should also not bring the world to it. Go play outside. Go meet your friends at an actual bar (can you imagine the liability of serving your friends at your in-home pub and then having them swerve home?). Hide your guns somewhere other than in plain sight. Make the non-master suite bedrooms just as inviting as the master suite. Don’t put the other bedrooms in an entirely different zip code.
If my design objections aren’t enough for you, let’s talk about the environmental impact of heating and cooling 9000 square feet of space. The “carbon footprint”, as those tree-huggers like to remind us, is fairly significant in a home of that size. Especially when a lot of the home is wasted space. I want to make it clear that I’m not against large homes. In fact, I prefer them. But they require a certain amount of thought and care in the design. And every room has to have some purpose, some sense of adding more than just space to the floorplan.
I came away from Homearama grateful that land is so expensive in southern California. I have seen absolutely fabulous, luxurious, gracious homes that were 2500-5000 square feet here. These were homes where every detail was carefully considered, and the result was purposeful serenity. I’m not even opposed to some of the houses I’ve seen that are 6000+ square feet, as they are often older homes and were graciously designed and meticulously built.
The world isn’t going to end because these homes are being built and our civilization is just as sturdy as it ever was, but I remain somewhat depressed and disillusioned. Bigger isn’t always better, and a home should be more than a collection of marketing afterthoughts. It should be a place where people can live, not hide. It should be a place of refuge and solace, but it should also welcome and invite. In short, Homearama isn’t home. Now, if you don’t mind, allow me to click my heels three times because I’m not in Kansas anymore.
With great anticipation, my mother-in-law, mom and I drove out to the new development north and east of the city. My father-in-law, dad and husband had opted out at the last minute, as the paternal parents wanted to look at classic cars and my husband conveniently had a sinus infection and was running a fever. And Grace managed to wrangle my in-law’s housekeeper into baby-sitting, so it was just some avid design fiends hitting the new home showcase.
I wish we’d stayed home.
Speaking as someone who believes quite strongly that a person should have whatever home that they can afford and that they have the right to do what they please to said home, as long as those changes are in compliance with any building, development or preservation codes or deed restrictions, Homearama made me ill. The best way to describe what I saw is “wretched excess.” Unmitigated false opulence. Flatulent and unfriendly design.
The first home was simply called “The Courtyard”. At $2.295mm and boasting 9,000 square feet of living area, it had some standard features: a large master suite that had a huge fish tank separating the soaking tub from the party shower (“Party shower” a trademark of my husband, who was rather appalled at the number of people who could potentially fit into the multi-head shower stalls in the master baths in last year’s showcase of homes), an open gourmet kitchen with a “hearth room”, plus two very small bedrooms that were clearly after-thoughts and were tucked away off the kitchen. What “The Courtyard” also had was a media room with stadium style seating (apparently this is a standard feature with Homearama builders, as my in-laws have good friends who own a Homearama home built twelve years ago and it has the same type of room as well), a large courtyard that created a Palladian effect, and a full pub. No, not a bar in a game room. Not even a small side library with a wet bar. An actual could-be-in-Ireland-except-that-the-Iris
The rest of the homes were all in the same vein. One even had a gun closet on prominent display in the library, which was the first room you saw when you entered the house. I will give that house snaps for having a nifty outdoor shower that could be access from either the master bath (complete with requisite soaking tub and party shower) or the master sitting room. That house, like many of the others, had the master suite on the first floor, and the tiny additional bedrooms tucked about a quarter of a mile away on the second floor. I wondered if the people who buy these houses even have kids and if they do, are they living at home? I suppose that some of the prospective buyers must not be childless, as one of the houses had an actual soccer room. It wasn’t a regulation field, but it was about an eighth of a field and was carpeted in astro-turf and had two goals. In the basement.
I did like the outdoor living rooms, as they were well-appointed with ceiling fans, fireplaces, remote-controlled screens, outdoor grills and stoves, fridges and other furniture for lazing away a hot summer’s evening. Of course, this being Ohio, you can only use the outdoor living space for maybe five months out of twelve, but who’s counting?
So, my objections to these homes were many. Unlike my mom and mother-in-law, I do not foresee a “fall of the Roman Empire” scenario in the horrid excess that these homes have. I do wonder if people really think that 9,000 square feet, complete with pubs, soccer rooms and gun closets is going to make them feel better at the end of the day. It seems to me that a home should be a retreat from the world, but it should also not bring the world to it. Go play outside. Go meet your friends at an actual bar (can you imagine the liability of serving your friends at your in-home pub and then having them swerve home?). Hide your guns somewhere other than in plain sight. Make the non-master suite bedrooms just as inviting as the master suite. Don’t put the other bedrooms in an entirely different zip code.
If my design objections aren’t enough for you, let’s talk about the environmental impact of heating and cooling 9000 square feet of space. The “carbon footprint”, as those tree-huggers like to remind us, is fairly significant in a home of that size. Especially when a lot of the home is wasted space. I want to make it clear that I’m not against large homes. In fact, I prefer them. But they require a certain amount of thought and care in the design. And every room has to have some purpose, some sense of adding more than just space to the floorplan.
I came away from Homearama grateful that land is so expensive in southern California. I have seen absolutely fabulous, luxurious, gracious homes that were 2500-5000 square feet here. These were homes where every detail was carefully considered, and the result was purposeful serenity. I’m not even opposed to some of the houses I’ve seen that are 6000+ square feet, as they are often older homes and were graciously designed and meticulously built.
The world isn’t going to end because these homes are being built and our civilization is just as sturdy as it ever was, but I remain somewhat depressed and disillusioned. Bigger isn’t always better, and a home should be more than a collection of marketing afterthoughts. It should be a place where people can live, not hide. It should be a place of refuge and solace, but it should also welcome and invite. In short, Homearama isn’t home. Now, if you don’t mind, allow me to click my heels three times because I’m not in Kansas anymore.