In the 1970s, my parents bought a house in west Dublin that came with more bells and whistles than the Red Line Luas. Everything in their brand new house was bang up to the minute and frightfully modish: louvre-door wardrobes, a built-in bed base, tactile wallpaper, stipple ceilings, peach bathroom suite and an artex arch “feature” in the living room. We used to hit our heads on it as we got taller, but that was the least of our problems.
The 1970s, you may recall, was the decade that taste forgot; by the time the 1980s rolled around, those trends had dissolved, leaving my parents to live out their decorators’ remorse at leisure. Their formica kitchen finally rolled back into fashion but, sadly, they weren’t to know that.
Alas, this appears to be the perennial conundrum of the new homebuilder. During the Celtic Tiger boom, you couldn’t move for mirrored lockers and crystal chandeliers in the utility rooms in new houses. At the time, such trimmings were the first and last word in cool – now they’re a bit grimly garish.
I get it, though. I understand you have a job to do. I get that your primary concern is to create a show-stopping property. You want everyone that walks in the door to emotionally connect with the space, and envisage themselves living their best life there. And then pay you handsomely for it.
Sexily glamorous lifestyle
The problem is that many of you are selling a lifestyle; granted, a wondrous, gilded, sexily glamorous lifestyle, with those cutesy velvet dining chairs and vases full of designer blooms. The thing is, I don’t have the kind of life that you are selling, and nor would I necessarily want it.
The point I’m making is: trends come and go. The more “statement” the trend, the more ephemeral it is, and the more outdated it’s likely to look in five years’ time. We’re not looking for the bells and whistles. But when it comes to pulling out the stops in a bid to impress, some new builds are rising spectacularly to the occasion. A development in south County Dublin boasts an in-house Residence Team (“need to arrange some dry cleaning? We are here to help”). In theory, this sounds great, but we are Irish. We are not the natural-born users of the concierge. It’s not in our DNA to dump our dirty clothes at front desk and expect someone else to sort it. We clean our houses before the cleaner arrives.
I’ve started to notice a few commonalities in other new show houses, too: an open-plan kitchen/living space: dinky, chintzy dining sets and coffee tables (a time-honoured visual trick to make the room look more spacious), wet rooms. How or when did we end up losing the beloved bath? Have you any idea how demanding and breakneck life can be, especially if you’ve just bought a new house? Can you imagine how vital the stress-relieving balm of a humble bath is these days? There should be baths in every room in the house. As for the double his’n’hers sinks… totally surplus to requirements. This isn’t as impressive an idea as you might think. Because none of us live in a US sitcom, and who wants two sinks to clean? Come to think of it, the “Americanisation” of the new build – someone manning the desk in the apartment block lobby; the kitchen island that is more hindrance than help – is a pricey gimmick most of us just don’t need.
Classic clean lines
But there are several things, simple enough for builders or developers to execute in new builds, that could greatly enhance our real lives. Instead of gadgets and gimmicks, think classic clean lines and light. Remember that a new home’s charm is in its simplicity, and that a house with a “big” personality (hello, pointless wine fridge) is not necessarily one with a lot of charm. You only need to look at my childhood home, replete with its eye-catching accents, to know that.
Think: enough livingroom space for a huge, Netflix-binge-worthy sofa. A kitchen suitable for a good party. Wipe down dining furniture that isn’t fiddly. A stone worktop, rather than a shiny quartz one that will age quicker. By that logic, white floors should be verboten, too: one could get away with cleaning a darker one every one or two days. And actually, if you could sort a solution to the age-old “having to take out the bins” conundrum – a chute that spirits waste away and dispenses of it appropriately – that could work. In fact, that really would be the point where I would grab your lapels, shake you in jubilation and shout, “shut up and take my money”.
