Winnetka Colonial Chronicles, Part 1

So we are embarking on a whole home renovation on an old colonial at 557 Winnetka Avenue in Winnetka, and there is a ton of work to do. Maybe two tons. I recall some good advice when I first peered down a steep mountain: 

Cut the mountain up into slices. Then ski your slice.

The total project feels colossal at the moment.  The permit was issued (more on that later). One slice. We have the fences up to protect the trees. Another slice. Enlist your 10 year old to clean up the 91 year old doors. Keep slicing.

Removing loads of old door hardware is easier when you don't have to bend at the waist. 54" tall is about right.  

Not sure if he is walking the dog or the dog is walking him, but prepping an old door is a good rainy-day activity.

Now a quick word about construction permits in Winnetka. The village requirements are stringent. The total cost of the permit can be breathtaking.  

Any major renovation requires architectural plans and most likely a survey by civil engineers. We'll start the ball rolling with $10,000 or more out of the gates. We need to remove some trees to build a new garage, so the forestry department has to approve the plans and ensure that the remaining trees are adequately protected by chain link fence. It also requires a $10,000 refundable cash deposit. If you remove a tree greater than 8" in diameter, you will not only need the permit and have to pay the deposit, but you also have to replace removed trees with new trees of equal diameter or greater. In other words, be prepared to plant at least 30" worth of new trees if you take out two trees totaling 30" diameter. Landscaping costs begin there. We also need to upgrade the electrical, and the village requires us to use the village department for connecting the street power to the home via an underground cable. That's a bit more than $9,000 just to get 200 amp service running into the home. Gulp. The inadequate water service needs to be upgraded, too, which requires a directional bore from the water main under the street through the basement wall. Cha-ching. All of this before a single dumpster arrives on the lot.

The important thing is to retain your sense of humor.  

As I walked away from the village cashier's desk, I jokingly asked her whether I looked any lighter. She smiled and said I looked as handsome as ever. I definitely paid for that compliment.    

I Love Old Homes and Other Myths

We often hear from people who profess their love for old homes, or a nostalgia for some Golden Age of Homebuilding, or an understandably warm feeling for features that remind them of the homes of their youth.

We sense a disconnect. What people really mean is that they value some combination of classic architecture, historic details, and traditional materials/finishes. Here's a partial list of things people do not like about old homes:

• Ye Olde wonky floor plans
• Small closets and tight kitchens
• Drafty windows 
• Inadequate insulation
• Ancient mechanical systems
• Roosevelt-era electrical and plumbing
• Textured plaster, poorly lit rooms, crumbling mortar, leaky basements, sagging floors . . .

And so on. Some might appreciate the mahogany wood paneling in the original library, but they have no love for the shag green conversation pit in the family room that was added in 1969. Groovy no more, to say the least. Numerous homes now have reached 80-100 years of age, but they have been butchered and re-assembled like Frankenstein over the decades since they were built. A handful of charming details might remain, but much has been lost. Finally, some old homes are just . . . old. Not necessarily better or well-kept. Some did not have much charm when they were constructed, and they don't now. Even the word "charm" in a real estate listing is now often just a humorless code word for a house in desperate need of a big investment.

This is not a hearty endorsement of typical new construction. We'll reserve our comments on that topic for another day. The point is that the purchase of an older home should be a very careful one, with a list of the specific things they buyer wants to preserve and a clear-eyed view of what needs to be upgraded--ideally, before the purchase decision is made. The fantasy of an old home can be easily dashed by the reality of the cavernous hole into which many dollars will be poured. In these instances, one of the least recognized and most important virtues of a top real estate agent is his or her ability to size up the post-closing costs. A real estate agent earns a gold star when giving a potential buyer a reasonably accurate idea of the post-investment in the property, even when doing so might jeopardize the sale.   

We think it's fine to celebrate classic architecture, historic details, and traditional materials/finishes wherever you find them. Just don't fall in love with an old house based on its advanced age alone.   

Fenway Park called. It wants its Green Monster back

We recently met a fabulous couple who moved to a beautiful older home in Highland Park at the end of 2015. The home needed a few minor updates in a few areas, but unlike the rest of it, the master bathroom and adjacent master closet were last touched in the 1950's and needed plenty of attention. 

The first thing a visitor noticed is that the old master bathroom displayed incredible fidelity to just one slice of the color spectrum: British racing green tile on the walls, a mint bathtub, and pale green floor and shower tile. The entire bathroom sat on a raised floor, theater-style, and was only accessible by steps through the master closet. The new owners were not delighted at the thought of waking up to this spectacle every morning.

We'll set the stage (excuse the pun) with some of the "before" pictures of the bathroom.

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Entry to the tight shower stall (with prison bars at the top, in case you tried to escape?).

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If they made green plumbing fixtures, we would have expected them here.

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The unusually square tub and worn floor tile. Not minty fresh.

The single bowl vanity and klieg lights over the medicine cabinet. We suspect the green vanity top is somewhere in the attic.

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Access to the bathroom through the master closet. A game-show host would have been happy here, telling you what was behind door number 5. 

 By now you get the idea of the former space. It was time for demolition.

Goodbye closet of a thousand doors. 

Goodbye to all that green tile, the raised floor, the claustrophobic shower, old plumbing, and strange tub. 

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Hello, little helper! The owner's daughter had to get in on the fun.

A quiet moment on a day bed of construction materials.  

We re-worked the plumbing to level the floors with the rest of the bedroom, added pocket door access to preserve space, and closed the entry from the walk-in closet in order to maximize the storage space on the closet side and provide space for the double-bowl vanity on the other side.

Then the new master bath and closet was born. 

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We added storage with a double vanity and desk and enclosed the toilet in its own room behind a frosted glass door for privacy. 

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The frameless glass, bench, and alcove bring the shower into the 21st century.   

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Closet built-ins make good use of the space for organizing and storage. The retractable clothes hamper under the window is a nice feature.

We had a fantastic time working closely with this family on their bathroom and closet, and we are very happy for them as they start a new chapter in their new home! 

To Hide the Kitchen Appliances or Not?

We often convert one thing into another, such as a closet into an expanded bathroom or an unfinished basement into a multi-functional space for multi-generational living. Still, a closet is a closet. It does not pretend to be something it isn't. Likewise with a bathroom. It serves the purpose of a bathroom, no matter how it is improved or how lovely it appears to the eye of the owner.

The kitchen is a different animal, however. Food is stored and prepared there as always, but now the kitchen takes on different roles: a place to eat, to congregate, to pay the bills, to charge your electronic devices, tackle homework, and so forth. The square feet dedicated to a kitchen has expanded as well, from the cramped basics to culinary school productions that overlap other living areas. Which design principles apply to this versatile space? Hide the appliances or leave them exposed? Is a kitchen still a kitchen?

“I loathe the affectation of disguising refrigerators and dishwashers with a cabinetry panel. You are in a kitchen; everyone knows you are in a kitchen. That you own a refrigerator should come as no surprise. I love the honesty and simplicity of appliances.””

— Madeline Stuart

Even though we use kitchens differently these days, we like to see the symbols of the kitchen as a reminder of its first purpose. A kitchen is defined to some extent by the appliances. Concealing them behind cabinetry seems labored, especially if the owners use the kitchen as a kitchen rather than as an art object. We sometimes see amazingly crafted cabinetry covering all the appliances in a high-end kitchen, and just as we are enjoying the sleight-of-hand trick, our eyes fall to the inevitable La Cornue or Wolf range (no pricy kitchen can exist without one of these!). 750 pounds or more of hulking stainless steel. Naked. Massive. The magic show is over. A kitchen is still a kitchen.