Top 10 benefits to living in a new-construction house

When Dave and I were looking at homes in the Twin Cities, we were pretty open to different styles, eras, and parts of town. We made nearly 50 showings over the course of two weekends, and our list included a geodesic dome, a townhouse in a converted mansion, a modern pre-fab, and a 50s rambler that remained untouched since it appeared in Better Homes and Gardens magazine in 1955. We were looking for character, and I held the general belief that character comes with age. So imagine my surprise when we ended up with a house that was built in 2007, and nary a Spanish tile in sight. In fact, in a way what I love about this house is that is is a blank slate, a clean starting point. It has 10-foot ceilings and was designed to maximize light. It has wide-plank, light-wood floors, white and grey walls, and grey and white marble tiles in the bathrooms. I am a self-described maximalist, yet i have purchased a home with no flourishes. The kitchen cabinets do not even have hardware, and the backsplash is simply paint- that's like a dress without ruffles and an ensemble with no jewelry. Over the years, I have come to appreciate good bones, and the freedom of adding the flourishes with fabric and furnishings (and having the ability to change them without a contractor.) When we finally walked into the house after driving cross-country to the closing, I thought about the times that I have been displeased upon similar encounters: the tears shed over the tininess of my first new York apartment (a 300-sf one-bedroom walkup to be shared with a roommate); the sinking stomach upon entering the little brick rowhouse bought--at a price far too high--in the frenzy of the 2004 real estate market.

But this was more like entering my beautiful pre-war park slope co-op, or even our rental house in Boulder: it may not have been certainty at first sight, but it sure was love at second.

Another thing about me: I generally do things the "old" way, or go for form over function. While I'm not exactly a luddite, it drives Dave crazy--CRAZY--that I don't use quick keys to cut and paste. I suppose I am a creature of habit, and see nothing wrong with doing it the old way. So imagine my surprise as we get settled in and I find that the little short cuts and luxuries of modern convenience are a wonderful thing, to be embraced. Keep in mind that Dave and I lived without a dishwasher for 5 years, and when our dinner plates didn't fit in the dishwasher in the Boulder rental, we bought rimless salad plates to stand in. That I watched a TV through static for several years in Park Slope because the look of antennas just drove me to distraction.

So for the past few weeks, I've been mentally debating which shiny new "luxury" features are my favorites. There must be at least ten, which will fit into an inverted list and make a nice little outdated reference (does anyone still watch Letterman?) in keeping with the spirit of being set in my ways.

10. Automated ice-maker

Just in time for Eleri's favorite new declaration: "Cold water please! Ice. In it."

9. Central Air

Okay, we were lucky enough to have this is Brooklyn, but it was retrofitted to an old house, and the cold air came in surges so loud, watching TV involved a major volume control roller coaster. Here? Whisper soft. (This same level of quiet is less of a perk on the dishwasher, which I keep opening mid-cycle because I CAN NOT HEAR IT.)

8. Dedicated laundry room

Not the basement hallway, not a corner of the kitchen (using the dryer as a surface for both folding clothes AND cooling cookies (etc.) = unsavory), no: it's very own room. With cabinets big enough to store all the linens and towels, PLUS drawers and a utility sink.

7. Kitchen Island

The size of Malta. Is that an Island? That's what just popped into my head.

6. A walk in pantry

That you can walk into

5. Walk in Master Closet

Did I mention? You can walk in. To the closet.

4. In-floor heat in the bathroom tile

Okay, I admit, now I'm just showing off. But this is Minnesota, and I'm sure this feature will jump to number one on the list come, oh, February.

3. Basement Playground

Oh yes, it's true, there's a slide, monkey bars, climbing rope, and hanging swing chair built in to the basement. But shhhhh, don't tell the girls. We're saving it for a rainy day. Or, really, for the gym mats to arrive and save us all from the concrete floors.

2. Outlets

There are so many in each room, it's almost confusing to decide which to use for what. (Not always great with options over here.) In Brooklyn, our bedroom has ONE outlet, directly across from where the bed so obviously belonged. We had extension cords just ringing the molding along the floor (and cable wires ringing the crown molding.) Which leads me to the number one most awesome thing about buying a new-construction house:

1. Whole-house wiring

I have been known to nix entire stereo and media components because i didn't like how they looked. Imagine my delight to discover the house wired for a wall TV that was wired for a cable box or DVD player HIDDEN IN A CABINET. Do you know what this means? NO WIRES. We have forsaken our year of living TV free for a 50-inch on the wall, with no visible wires. That's like a his 'n' hers icing on this amazing cake.

Having just written all of that out, I feel like the luckiest girl alive where real estate is concerned. I also feel compelled to say that we got a GREAT deal on this house because it was built in the market surge but sold after the crash, and that we could only afford it because our fortunes went in the other direction with New York real estate. I imagine we'll only have the opportunity of going downmarket once in our lives, and I feel we did well in cashing in the chips.

if you can stand it, there may be a deluge of photos and decorating posts to come.

Resin Planter

This weekend I made a side trip to Home Depot when I was at Staples having copies made of our organization's strategic plan. Clio had picked out a potted flower at the grocery store the week before, and it was sitting on the dining room table, slowly shriveling in its plastic, temporary home. We had a pot from the aloe that drove with us all the way to Boulder from New York, only to be left on the deck all winter in some kind of sick botanical experiment about succulents and the high desert climes. (The climes won.) But we did not have dirt. We also do not have fresh herbs, something we had become very used to in Brooklyn, where we had a little container garden outside our kitchen door, and rosemary and sage plants that had survived many a New York winter (take that, aloe.) So I picked up dirt and threw in Rosemary, Sage, and Thyme (just short Parley for a trip to Scarborough Fair), and realized I would need a pot for this bounty.

Enter these resin pots in the most amazing hues: marigold, teal, raspberry, some of my favorites. It was hard to choose between the larger, ridged tubs (very modern!) and the softer-edged bowls. In the end, I went for scale and got the slightly smaller bowl, in this fabulous yellow.


Clio and Eleri helped repot the flowers and the herbs, though Eleri, surprisingly, was a little squeamish about the dirt (that and the wind, of which we have had plenty this past week). Now they love to water this tiny little "garden," and I love to look at the combination of color and textures (yellow resin! turquoise terra cotta! purple petals!) in this corner of the deck.

Plus: bonus! The ever photo-shy Clio thought it was just dandy to pose (and demonstrate her dance moves) with the new pots.

World Market Curtain Panels

I'm crazy for curtains. I love textiles in general, and I really do think that window treatments are the quickest way to bring polish, pattern, and color to your room. Unfortunately, good pre-fab curtains are very hard to find, and if you do come across something in a nice fabric and a nice palette, chances are they will be expensive. Instead, I have frequently purchased fabric (and, on one particularly ambitious occasion, liner fabric, drapery weights, the whole kit and kaboodle) with every intention of getting out the sewing machine. I'm sure if he was in the room with me, Dave would like to call your attention to Exhibit A: the extra-large rubbermaid container in our shed which contains untold yardage of fabulous fabric. (I added the "fabulous"- Dave would a) never use that word, b) least of all to describe my storehouse of fabric.) Of course, I have yet to actually sew a pair of curtains, but this has never stopped me- in my experience, pins or hot glue work just fine if you're going more for effect than actual, functional draperies.

So imagine my surprise (and, probably, Dave' relief) when I discovered the selection of inexpensive curtain panels at Cost Plus World Market (yes, the same store where we bought our spice magnets. And a bath mat. And, for good measure, some Frontera salsa, a light-up rubber ducky, and the licorice candies from Holland for which my Dad has a particular fondness.) Not only did they have solid linen and velvet options in lovely colors at a fraction of the price of some other chain retailers (Pottery Barn, I've got your number), but they also carry patterns that are current without being overly trendy. And at $29.99 a panel, who cares if I'll be so over souzanis by the time we move out of this place?


I will admit, there was a hitch or two. First of all, any time you purchase mass-market items in fabric with a large repeat, you have to be willing to accept a little irregularity. I first discovered this with a pair of Dwell Studio for Target curtains for Clio's room in Brooklyn, where the lines of overscale polkadots did not match up when the curtains were drawn. Similarly, the souzani pattern here hangs slightly differently on either panel due to the irregular rod-pocket folds, making on panel's emphasis on the medallions while the other is on the paisley. Oops. Oh well- you get what you pay for, right? Secondly, the panels themselves are 84", no matter what the hanging method. So when we originally tried out a pair with rings, they graced the floor. But when we ultimately opted for rod-pocket styles instead, the hems were highwaters. Enter my genius mother, who suggested I simply let down the seams. One $4 seamripper and a couple of strokes of the iron later, and voila! Curtains just long enough to work.



And really, in this I am going for effect. Mission accomplished.