The idea of chronicling my old house has floated around in my head for awhile. I'll spend months mulling the perfect paint color, with swatches all over the walls, or I'll dig a giant patio by hand, put a post in Instagram and call it a day. My particular old house was renovated before we moved in; what is there to blog about, really? But in the years since we bought our foursquare, five more friends have moved into their own old houses in the neighborhood and as more friends have moved into their own old houses in the neighborhood, with their own old house problems and old house love.
So, this is the first installment of our collaboration together. Six women, six old houses and a whole lotta projects.
Up first, the Corner House.
I lived just around the corner for six years, in the upstairs apartment of a converted house. Every day my route would take me past this big white house with peeling paint, scaffolding out back, a missing front stoop and overgrown trees. And every day I would think, "I wish someone would fix that up."
Finally, one day, there was a dumpster outside. And then a fresh coat of paint. By this point I was aware of a nonprofit fixing up old houses in the neighborhood, and I started to wonder if this one would be coming on the market soon.
The day the 'for sale' sign went up out front, we made an appointment to go see it.
The original front door was on the left in the image above, entering through the porch. That door was closed in to create a fully-enclosed porch and new stairs were built to what was previously a second entrance. The porch is much shallower than most houses of its style, I assume to fit the narrow 'urban' lot. This is a classic American Foursquare layout, though I have yet to find it in any kit house books.
Now, here's the part that I don't take credit for at all. The previous owner had hoarded all sorts of things, leaving just the narrowest paths through the rubble. When the nonprofit bought the house, they actually had no idea what the interior condition would be.
We were particularly excited by the pocket doors. We are a three-cat household, and my two don't get along with N's one, so the ability to create separate spaces for them without any modifications was a dream. Below, you can see the pocket door partially closed before renovation.
Everything was builder-grade -- beige walls, orangey cabinets, and stock light fixtures (sadly, they didn't save the originals), but we were in love. Three days later we had an accepted offer. Four years later, the house is nearly unrecognizable from the beige box we first toured.
So, this is the first installment of our collaboration together. Six women, six old houses and a whole lotta projects.
Up first, the Corner House.
I lived just around the corner for six years, in the upstairs apartment of a converted house. Every day my route would take me past this big white house with peeling paint, scaffolding out back, a missing front stoop and overgrown trees. And every day I would think, "I wish someone would fix that up."
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| Source: Google streetview circa 2012 |
Finally, one day, there was a dumpster outside. And then a fresh coat of paint. By this point I was aware of a nonprofit fixing up old houses in the neighborhood, and I started to wonder if this one would be coming on the market soon.
The day the 'for sale' sign went up out front, we made an appointment to go see it.
The original front door was on the left in the image above, entering through the porch. That door was closed in to create a fully-enclosed porch and new stairs were built to what was previously a second entrance. The porch is much shallower than most houses of its style, I assume to fit the narrow 'urban' lot. This is a classic American Foursquare layout, though I have yet to find it in any kit house books.
Now, here's the part that I don't take credit for at all. The previous owner had hoarded all sorts of things, leaving just the narrowest paths through the rubble. When the nonprofit bought the house, they actually had no idea what the interior condition would be.
They had no idea that beneath all the trash, there was a set of French doors AND a set of French pocket doors, or that the dining room built in would still be intact. None of the wood had been painted - damn near miraculous for a home this age and in a neighborhood where homes were regularly converted to apartments and stripped of original woodwork.
Everything was builder-grade -- beige walls, orangey cabinets, and stock light fixtures (sadly, they didn't save the originals), but we were in love. Three days later we had an accepted offer. Four years later, the house is nearly unrecognizable from the beige box we first toured.
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