The trials and tribulations of trying to sell a house

Woes of a Would-be House Seller – or – In Praise of Older Houses

When we were planning to move to Des Moines 14 years ago and came here on a house-hunting trip, there was not much on the market. I can remember bursting into tears one day after an unproductive round of house-hunting, at the thought of perhaps having to live in an unexciting brand new beige box of a house on an erstwhile cornfield without a tree in sight. While I have nothing against new houses, some of which are beautiful, the ones in the under $250-300,000 range were not in the slightest bit appealing. I was delighted when we found a large 35 year old custom built ranch in an attractive, established and desirable suburban neighborhood. Even though there was a pool, an item we had initially not wanted, we loved the house for its unpretentiousness, its sunny, open feel and usable space, well-planned layout, huge light and airy walk-out basement, and many other features which made it perfect for a family with young children. The pool turned out to be a real asset for our kids as they began to befriend neighborhood children, and meant less grass to mow for my allergy-prone husband.

I remember thinking, knowing that we would sooner or later move back to the east coast, that we would have no trouble selling this house when the time came. But we had not reckoned on the enormous amount of building that would subsequently occur in the Des Moines metro area. From my perspective, having been born and raised in the UK and arriving in the Midwest after living in 300 year-old Philadelphia, this house was, and still is, essentially new. Little did I suspect that from a Midwestern perspective, it would, within a very short time, simply be seen as unappealingly dated, unlike houses somewhat older in Des Moines, (but still newer than our Philly neighborhood), which were starting to be seen as ‘vintage’ if not even desirably antique.

Even as late as two summer's ago, when we were preparing to put the house on the market, I was in denial and still considering our house eminently sellable. We had, after all, completely re-designed and updated our large kitchen and made other important, if less sexy updates, and maintained the house well. But apart from the general slowdown in the housing market, how could I have not noticed the thousands of “stately homes” and town houses sprouting up all over the expanding metro area, filled with all the latest fashionable fads that most homes in established neighborhoods don’t have – three car garages, wine cellars, dual vanities, (translation for the uninitiated – 2 sinks) in EVERY bathroom, ‘great rooms’, cathedral ceilings, man caves, media centers in basements, all the latest in bathroom stone/marble/granite fixtures, and with pretentious development names, for instance one so-called “village” named after an area in Italy. (Who would have thought it possible, an Italian village right here in Iowa? From what I have seen so far, the buildings are very nice, but it’s nothing like any village I have ever visited, and about as Italian as the Olive Garden.)

When it eventually dawned on us, after our house had been on the market for a few months in the fall that there could be a problem selling, we still assumed that in the spring, once the pool was open and sparkling and the trees and flowers in full bloom, it would sell easily. No such luck…..

What can be wrong, we wondered, with a well-maintained house with neutral décor and a fab kitchen in a pretty and quiet neighborhood with lots of trees, in walking distance of Greenbelt trails and shopping areas? Well, apparently a great deal. These days it is no longer ‘location, location, location’ that sells houses, but ‘updates, updates, updates’ – and even they may not do the trick.

Each potential buyer notes something they don’t like – for one it is the color of a bathroom (deep peach, one of our few forays into something other than neutral, provokes shudders of revulsion), less than up to the minute woodwork, the height of the ceilings, the landscaping, the semi- rather than completely finished basement despite its unusually large comfortable play areas. Some issues we can do nothing about, some require small changes, other potential updates are more expensive and may in any case not ‘hit the spot’ for all potential buyers. One man’s spaciousness is another man’s pokey hole; one woman who came to see the house seemed to be quite intimidated by the kitchen and wondered how she would fill the space and make use of the amenities. On another occasion, a realtor breezed in and announced that several interior walls would have to be knocked down to make the house remotely possible for 'her' clients to live here. Of course, we could make changes to have it look like a new home, but then the buyers would complain about us asking a new house price for an older house.

While we of course want feedback in order to decide what we can do to enhance our home’s appeal, and need to look at our house objectively through the eyes of potential buyers, one has to develop a thick skin and not take personally the criticisms of people who have no intention of even making an offer. I try to maintain a sense of humor. I often find myself wondering for instance whether our house might sell if we came up with a catchy new name for our neighborhood that sounds upper class, European, pretty, or ideally a combination of all three, along the lines of ‘the Cottages de Provence at Spoofington Manor’ or ‘Polo Club Chateaux in the Dales’ or something as fetching and brilliantly conceived as the Italian “village”.

As a little aside, while musing about this desire for cute names for houses or residential areas; I have come to think this has its roots in England where almost everyone’s house, however humble an abode, has a name like ‘Rose Cottage’ or ‘Bonnie Brae’; or for those who fancy themselves a little more cosmopolitan, ‘Chez Nous’ or ‘Mon Repos’. My brother once lived in a terrace house in the heart of London, that he nostalgically named ‘Sea View’.

We understand that we now have to see our house as a commodity to sell and no longer as our home (but that is hard when we actually live here). Which brings me to another of my biases; why are new, as yet unlived in houses called ‘homes’? A house becomes a home when people live there and makes it their own. To call it a ‘home’ before that time is surely just a pretentious marketing gimmick to make houses seem more, well, homey.

We addictively watch all the TV programs on house staging and have a good natured laugh at the people who reject houses because of the furniture or color of the walls as if these are immutable. We are learning to do the very same thing when we review information on houses we might buy back east. Anything with wallpaper now makes us cringe when it wouldn’t if we still lived there – we are being duly brain-washed. We particularly liked the program in which a woman viewing a house that had been used for musical recording and practice for serious musicians because of its great balcony sound quality, stated that she did not think she could handle these people coming in and out all the time if she lived there (sic!)…..

First impressions are important as there needs to be a ‘wow, I love it’ factor when people first walk into a house. So after phase 1 of minor repairs, de-cluttering and painting yielded no results two years ago, we used the services of a very helpful house-stager who gave us some great ideas, and we moved on to phase 2. We obtained new light fixtures, replaced carpets, re-arranged the furniture, de-cluttered again and yet AGAIN, taking carloads of stuff to Goodwill (where does it all come from?…). We emptied the bookshelves of all but a few books artfully arranged vertically and horizontally on each shelf, and made sure there were no more than a couple of decorative items at most on any piece of furniture or shelving. Collections of anything are absolutely not OK so the thimbles and pigs had to go.

We have tried to strike a happy medium between clinical and boring hotel room atmosphere and too much of our personal taste, and to make the house look as large as possible. Which reminds me of the time we were visiting my brother in London when he was trying to sell his tiny house (having moved up from ‘Sea View’ and on his way to ‘The Hollies’). Whenever the house was being shown we were packed off to the local pub complete with all of our luggage, as too many people and things made the house look smaller. We drank a lot of beer on that visit, and the publican must have thought we were street people, always showing up with all our worldly possessions in tow.

When the realtor calls to say people would like to see the house, (an increasingly rare occurrence…) we rush around cleaning, tidying, mounding up the beds with decorative pillows (this thousands-of-pillows-on-the-bed idea is apparently a big turn-on for when people view houses but what do you do with them the rest of the time?), mowing the lawn, and removing all signs that anyone actually lives here. Our bills for fresh flowers are surpassing our utility bills and we could probably write a buyer’s guide as to which of the flowers at Sam’s survive the longest.

Pondering the masses of pillows and cushions on beds trend, I wonder whether everyone except us has adopted this idea or whether it has just been thought up as another task for would be sellers. I imagine that every day, people get up in the morning, have breakfast, make their beds and artfully thereon place a large quantity of pillows, go to work, come home, and at bed-time remove most of the pillows before getting into bed. It’s not even as if they can lie in bed admiring their handiwork, as most of the pillows are strewn on the floor by that point. I think that potential house buyers like this expensive looking touch as they can imagine themselves reclining in luxury amidst resplendent cushions, perhaps being fed peeled grapes, if they were to purchase that house.

So, finally the house is ready and we take ourselves off somewhere with the dog, hoping that the cats will not be reclining with a leg daintily pointed in the air, idly licking their undersides in full view of the front door when people arrive. We hope that they (the cats that is, not the people coming to see the house) do not decide on that moment to throw up a hairball in the middle of the new carpet. Evidence of pets is another turn-off, but you know what cats are, nothing if not self-absorbed and lacking in moral or social scruples, ready to pounce out from under a bed and latch onto a passing ankle at any moment. I wonder anxiously whether I remembered to scoop the cat litter trays which are placed in the darkest corner of the basement – hope the cats can find them…. and remove any dead flowers from the carefully arranged vases. Did we turn on all the lights, remember to hide kitchen appliances (the oven is a good place -mental note to check for stored objects before we turn it on later to cook), put the cat and dog food dishes in the dryer, move our toiletries off the bathroom counter, put down the toilet seats, remove books from bedside tables? If not, will it make the difference between a potential offer or total lack of interest? Ah, what stress…… One day when potential buyers were expected, our house smelled of burnt toast instead of cinnamon rolls, after our passive aggressive toaster oven forgot to turn itself off.

I lie awake some nights, considering what more we can do. I worry about whether our closets are tidy enough. Apparently if people look inside closets and they are not neatly and tidily organized, they will imagine themselves living there and being disorganized also. After a while one begins to perceive potential buyers as quite tyrannical but not too bright. I imagine some-one saying – “well we WOULD have put in an offer, but the closets were SO untidy”, or “I couldn’t live in a house with a toothbrush on the counter”, or “there weren’t enough pillows on the beds”…… The stuff in our grown children’s rooms tends to escape and wander around with attitude all over the floor and other surfaces, and has to be periodically beaten back into submission, usually under beds or into already overstuffed closets, so we just hope that no-one looks too closely.

I know this is just not a good time to be selling a house; and luckily for us we do not have to sell quickly so we can afford to stay here until the market improves. I am biased in favor of older houses (OK I admit it – did you guess?) because I love this house, and we’ll never find anything comparable back east for less than double the price and half as updated, even though we will be downsizing.

I did wonder once whether we might consider living in the UK (where most people would be lucky to have even a one car garage let alone more than one bathroom), but particularly with the state of the dollar versus the pound and housing at double the prices of anything in the US, I think this idea is unrealistic. Maybe we could just about manage to buy something the size of a broom cupboard in Basingstoke and we would name it ‘Sweeping Vistas’. (Basingstoke, by the way, is one of those towns people make jokes about….) I heard once of a windowless walk-in closet in the Knightsbridge area of London which sold for millions. But I guess then at least the owners would have the advantage of being close enough to Harrods to use the ritzy toilet facilities (maybe with quadruple of quintuple vanities, no less!) there as their bathroom.

Despite this generally difficult time for sellers, I do like to speculate about what it is about older houses with proven dry basements in beautiful friendly neighborhoods that makes them less appealing than something newer but (for the same price) smaller, impersonal and not yet proven to be as well-built. When I drive by many of the new housing areas around the metro area I find myself feeling quite depressed at the sight of street upon street of barrack-like beige cookie cutter houses with minimal greenery. So, what is the appeal?

Well…. I do reluctantly have to admit that many – but not all, I hasten to add - new houses look great, and the comparison of a new house with an old, versus buying new versus used clothes, comes to mind. Some people love to shop the second-hand stores, but apart from vintage, even nice used clothes look dated and would generally be a definite second choice, given availability of reasonably priced new clothes. Here, houses have, like clothes, become a fashion item. From that point of view, the Des Moines area is a house buyer’s dream, with masses of new houses all selling for way below the prices in most other cities around the US.

Given the fashion aspect, Des Moines area buyers now expect the most up to the minute look and lavish fixtures. Everyone now automatically expects and has come to believe they cannot do without the latest features and interior design ideas. Frankly, the coyly named ‘dual vanities’ in the master bathroom or a three car garage (which does even less for curb appeal than the two car garages we have grown used to), two items which we are constantly being reminded that our house lacks, would not have added anything to our quality of life, unlike many other evidently unfashionable features of our home and neighborhood.

A three car garage, whether needed or not, is an absolute must for anyone who aspires to the exalted social heights of the Des Moines metro area suburbs. That feature is the outward and visible sign of success and social standing; anything less is likely to provoke pitying glances and probably being struck off not a few Christmas card lists. A theater in the basement or walk-in closets the size of small bedrooms may go a little way towards redeeming ones social status.

There is an assumption that new houses are better built and will need no updates or repairs for a while. Perhaps that is the case, but not necessarily so. Older well-maintained houses have a proven track record as sellers must disclose all that has been done to maintain them, or any problems, and may need fewer repairs or less upkeep than some of the less well-built new houses.

There seems to be a demand for bigger and bigger houses, which can without careful thought given to decorating, end up looking like elegant and impersonal hotels. When we moved here from our postage stamp sized house in Philadelphia (which had bedrooms the size of today’s walk in closets) we rattled around in our new house for a while and wondered if we would ever get used to having so much space. We filled it up rather quickly so it is easy to understand why even greater amounts of space can be appealing. One of our children visited a friend once who lived in a West Des Moines mansion; the family never ate together but the mother kept the children’s fridge in their own wing of the house well stocked with fast foods. The children actually forgot that they had parents.

Because there is so much on the market, many house buyers are expecting to find the perfect house that needs not one single thing changing – even the color of a bathroom or a less than perfect carpet may apparently put off a potential buyer if they believe they can find that one house with everything according to their tastes. I personally think it is fun to make some cosmetic changes to a new house to make it ones own, but not everyone would agree. Rather than updating a home in a known and loved neighborhood, many people prefer to cast off their house like a pair of old socks and buy something brand new and preferably on a treeless lot, which conforms to perceived social standards. As we do with cars, it is now possible to trade in the old model – I mean house – for a new one, and the new house builder then puts the old one on the metaphorical equivalent of a used car lot where it will sell for less than the going price for its neighborhood.

There used to be a time when buyers purchased a house and expected to make some changes to reflect their own needs and personality. Now it seems individuality has become scary and owners want to be sure their house isn’t in any way too different, or lacking or inferior to their friends’ houses. Things have become so standardized that realtors and stagers can cite what carpets to purchase by name and model, and which paint to order by color and store ID number, in order to have ones house look as much as possible like everyone else’s. Are we being reduced to the status of compliant consumers with the same tastes and a need to prove our worth through what our homes looks like? How boring. I count myself as one of the lucky ones with no aspirations to keep up with the Joneses and will proudly and bravely assert my preference for a two car garage, although our lack of that item considerably reduces our chances of anyone ever making us an offer. But I do have to admit that the deep peach paintwork in the bathroom will have to go in favor of the latest fashionable color, ‘Kilim Beige’, if we are to have even the remotest chance of ever selling.

I wonder what will become of all these new houses 20-30 years from now. Maybe those neighborhoods will have mellowed and become more aesthetically pleasing, with mature trees and a sense of community. But then these houses will no longer be desirable and everyone will be wanting even larger houses with four car garages, and will be moving to some new housing development on a mown-down cornfield half way to Omaha or Iowa City.

I read recently that in California, ‘mid-century modern’ (i.e. 1960-1970s) houses and decor are coming back into fashion. Hmm… maybe we should carpet our wood floors in lovely orange shag, wallpaper our neutral walls with something flowery, replace our kitchen island and solid surface counter top with the original formica-topped peninsula, and wait a couple of years until this new trend reaches Iowa – and maybe then we will have potential buyers flocking to make an offer. We obviously need a bit more avocado and mustard coloring and lots of shag (not frize’) rugs….