Something that is well built, substantial and has a nice flow.

Enough light, enough hallway width so you donÂt feel squished, sensible exits and entrances (donÂt empty me out from the garage onto carpeting in the living room), and a full bath on the first floor for when IÂm too old to climb the stairs.

And please let me look out the windows of the most commonly used rooms and see something green.

and, if you strip away all the bad / objectional / ugly things done to a house and are left with a great structure to build on - that house has great bones.

Good proportions to the rooms and a good layout. Here preferences may hold sway -- some of us really like symmetry, others don't care. One of the things that appeals to me is being able to stand near one end of the house and see through rooms to the other side -- the doorways are lined up. In other words, an enfilade. The rooms are medium to modest, but you get to experience the internal space of the entire house all at once. Good bones means it has both aesthetically pleasing and useful space and overall layout.

I personally prefer not to see "fake" architectural elements on a house. I like a house to be authentic and true to what it really is, without trying to appear to be something it's not. If that makes any sense.

I'll second the good proportions and good layout, and I think Jen's right on target about the 'authenticity' of the architecture.

Yet somehow, our house had good bones when we bought it -- even though the proportions of many of the rooms were bad, and most of the surfaces were ugly and outdated. Still - there was something very appealing: a simplicity and transparency of floorplan. You could tell how the house 'worked' right away. Doorways and hallways did line up. With a few horrendous exceptions, the windows had lovely views. The house had a style that was consistent inside and out, and that style was nobody's 'cookie-cutter'.

Somehow, we could tell it had the potential to be great...

First and foremost, it should be structurally sound, so that it feels sturdy (floors don't bounce). I think of solid wood for the woodwork and floors rather than plastics and laminates. Optimal use of space (limited hallways). Adequate storage. Good lighting (natural or via fixtures) Good ventilation. Each room having a focal point upon entry that makes you want to smile. Colors and architectural details (simple or elaborate) that are consistent or flow from one room to another. A nice view to the outside from every window. Good sound control (so you're not hearing pipes, toilets or washing machines in areas you don't want to).

Wish I could say I had those things in my house. We're missing many of those elements. But when I think of my dream home and great "bones", those are the things that come to mind.

What Sayde said!!!!! I love the peace that comes from standing at one end of my home and looking through to the other...that enfilade view is my only success in decorating:^)
And I also agree with Jen...a house that is tricked out with decor inappropriate to it's design, never holds my interest.

To me, a lot the suggestions above sound more like icing than good bones. When we bought our house, it was with the understanding that the floorplan was a bit muddled but had loads of potential (open up the kitchen and family rooms to make a big great room, reconfigure the garage access/laundry area, and find a way to add a tub to the master bath) and it had not been updated in a very long, long time, but the lot was fantastic, the school district top notch, the architecture interesting, the roof was sound, the asbestos had been removed, it had new copper pipes, no wood rot, no mold, lead paint, lead pipe, or termite issues, and everything worked even if it was a bit ugly.

When we're done, we will have the ability to see from one end of the house to the other (albeit ours is a 1964 hillside ranch so it has nods to modernism rather than classical enfilade), new windows and doors, new insulation, new electrical, colors that flow, nice doors, new woodwork, and new kitchen and baths. The part that made it feel like "good bones," though: sound structure with what we hope will be few unexpected problems along the way, on a beautiful lot in a good school district.

I would have loved a house where I could plan to stay even if I can't walk up stairs, but that was not to be in our hillside area. Oh, well. I'll have a good 20+ years to putter around this house and can enjoy planning the retirement house once the kids are in college.

We bought a 1936 house with good bones. For us it meant no one had butchered it. The little updating done left the trim intact, the staircase was/is graceful and wide especially for a home this size, windows are large, the wood floors only refinished one time. Pipes, tubs, tile, kitchens, etc can all be replaced. A remodel that *creates* good flow, light, proportion, casework etc means the good bones were not there to begin with but added. If you're moving doorways, reconfiguring/adding rooms, changing rooflines, you may end up with a great house that now has good bones but to me, that's a whole different ball of wax than starting out with good bones and tweaking. Neither is better or worse, just different definitions, IMO.

I think it's being ABLE to move doorways, reconfigure/add rooms, change rooflines. You can't do that at my house...you might as well tear it all down and start over. My house doesn't have good bones.

Wow. My definition doesn't match a lot of the already-mentioned definitions!

'Course, we've bought fixer-uppers for the last 2 houses. Both houses were terrible. Especially the first one. Bad roof, bad flow, bad lighting, bad yard. But it had good bones. That meant for us that it had a floorplan that could be remodeled WELL, that it had adequate room sizes, that it had a nice lot, and it had a little character.

The roof could be replaced. The flow could be improved. The lighting could be improved, the yard could be re-done.

To me, it has good "bones" if it's on a good lot, has good room sizes, has spaces that make sense and can be used or re-purposed, and has the right feel. All of that other stuff can be changed, IMO.

My current house has totally different "bones" than my last house flow-wise, but now that it's made over a little bit, people come in and comment on what a great layout it has. It's like people really could not "see" the house when it was unattractive.

LOL, Reno; I think these responses are interesting too! I'm enjoying the feedback!!

I think my thoughts parallel Sayde's and Reno's. I think of it more from an architectural standpoint in terms of layout.

I also think about windows--if they're placed appropriately in a room and the size/shape of them. Sometimes they can be very awkward.

This designer's book I'm reading doesn't like niches and walls that "go in-and-out". He thinks they're distracting. He advocates clean square or rectangular rooms. He thinks open floorplans, where one room opens into another, as "losing energy" and distracting. He tries to give the sense of being "enveloped" in one room, stating it's more calming and comfortable.

I love the "enfilade" Sayde described---I think that's more classic French architecture, isn't it? (Sayde, I hope to hear more from you---you're new and you sound like you have some knowledge to tap into around here!) :)

Txhottie, What book are you reading? It does sound interesting.

I think good bones can mean a lot of different things depending on who is working with the bones. To me it is just having something to work with. I kind of view moving walls as plastic surgery, just moving things into more aesthetically pleasing locations. Of course, the quality of the bones comes down to the skill of the "surgeon" working with them.

A remodel that *creates* good flow, light, proportion, casework etc means the good bones were not there to begin with but added.

Hmmmm, I didn't see this last night. I really disagree. If you can't create that flow, proportion, etc, then the house would not qualify (in my mind) as having good bones. If you can create that flow *well*, without it looking as if the house was re-muddled, then it qualifies. I suppose my definition is a good shell, with the potential for quality changes.

In my last house, we took out portions of the wall that opened the living room to the dining room. It was claustrophobic-feeling before, and opening the wall drastically improved the flow. The "bones" were there. The wall was in the perfect location already, as were the rooms that needed opening (would not have qualified as good bones if the kitchen was directly open to the formal dining room instead of the living room, for example.)

We also took a large second livingroom at the back of the house and put up a wall. We created a 4th bedroom and an office. The "bones" again allowed the change both easily and effectively, and it really appeared to have always been that way. We couldn't have done that if the layout, room sizes, and flow weren't already there.

Tish, it's Vincente Wolf's "Learning to see: Bringing the World Around You Into Your Home."

I don't necessarily like everything about his style but his book really speaks to me and has some great tidbits on design. I highly recommend it.

I lean towards the "architecture" side of this as well. Sarah Susanaka wrote in one of her books something to the effect of "all the pieces that would stay in place if you turned the house upside down and shook it".

While it's easiest if you're somewhat true to the artchitectural style of the house, a house with good bones will be able to support nearly any decorating style you want to throw at it. See, for example, all the bungalows that are now sporting "modern"-style interiors (paint, furnishings, etc)and working fabulously.

For me (an old house junkie), the "good bones" has an undefinable component, but usually manifests in:

- a sensible layout (and/or the ability to make a sensible layout with only minor adjustments, as in the case of our slowly-being-un-remuddled house)

- proportionate rooms (both within each room: width vs. length vs. height, and the size of the room to the house as a whole)

- the impression of structural soundness (I've been in houses that were actually sound but felt flimsy, and then in houses that were actually flimsy but felt sound, LOL)

- a style and level of affixed details that's approporiate to the style of the house (again, or the ability to add it without it feeling artificial: this could be the giant baseboards and mouldings of a Victorian or the clean simple lines of your midcentury rambler)

- some tie to the surrounding areas, whether that's good window views or exterior architecture that "goes with" neighboring buildings