After 23 years of designing and building houses, usually for clients, usually couples, usually wealthy and always fussy; I’m proud to say I’ve learned a few things: quite a few, in fact, about the designing and building; very few, unfortunately, about the clients. After 23 years and several dozen sets of clients I can honestly say that I don’t have a clue why clients, or people in general for that matter, want what they want or do what they do.
Case in point. Many of my clients were retired or nearing retirement. The kids were grown and had moved away (this was back in the day when kids actually moved away, but that’s another story), and it was time to build “a smaller house just for the two of us.” The larger house they were leaving was, more often than not, a three-bedroom, two-bath house (often with finished-off basement or attic) that sat on a small lot in a large subdivision. The smaller house we were designing and building was, more often than not, a four-bedroom, four-bath (or three-bath plus a powder room) house to sit on a ten-acre lot in the middle of nowhere.
The reasoning (I use the term loosely) was interesting. The conversation usually went something like this: “We just need the basics: a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a couple bedrooms. Of course we need a family room because the formal living room will just be for company. Both the living and family room should have the view. The formal dining room will just be for company, so we need a large breakfast nook in the kitchen, preferably with the view. Bill (occasionally his real name) needs an office (I thought Bill was retiring, but what do I know), and I (occasionally Alice) need a study where I can get some peace and quiet to read my books. It would be nice if they both had the view.”
“The master bedroom must be comfortable (meaning really big) and must have the view. We’ll need two walk-in closets, but Bill’s doesn’t have to be very big (meaning mine needs to be really big). We’ll need a large walk-in shower, and maybe an outside shower for summer, and a Jacuzzi tub, because now and again I just need a good soak. The two guestrooms don’t need to be too big, but need private baths so guests don’t need to walk down the hall to use the bathroom. It’s not absolutely necessary, but it would be nice if they had the view. We need one other bedroom, which will double as my sewing (or painting, or hobby, or yoga) room. It doesn’t need its own bath, but should be near the powder room, and have the view and/or the north light. Really, that’s about all we need. Just include a three-car garage, a large pantry, a laundry room, an entry, my workout room and Bill’s shop, and we’re done. And except for my workout room, none of them really needs the view.”
In fairness, not all the houses I designed and built were so expansive. Some were, in fact, modest retirement homes, usually very well built and elaborately furnished, but not overly large. One “retirement home,” however, holds the record for both for number of rooms and redundant (same show, different venue) rooms. Granted, the family was, if not large, larger than just one retired or retiring couple. This house needed to accommodate mom, dad, grandma, and three kids. None-the-less did it really need, in addition to all the usual utilitarian rooms, a fully finished-of basement, two garages (one for two cars, one for six), six bedrooms, five full baths (the powder room evidently needed a small shower), a dining room, two breakfast rooms (one just for the kids), a living room, two family rooms (one just for the kids), a playroom (I guess the kids weren’t allowed to play in their family room), and a fully-enclosed sun room (that’s right, five living rooms).
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