Mine wasn't anywhere near your dream home, but it was MY dream from the outside, in an old, well kept colonial that I drove by occasionally in our then-rural area in upstate NY. When I took census one year, I realized that the house was in my area and that I could very well get to see the inside. And I did - greeted by several Irish setters and every soft surface covered in whatever old blankets, etc. that were available for the dogs, and the doggie smell - Yikes, it was overpowering. Certainly not the atmosphere I had expected from the interior of my dream home!

For years I could see a house further down the creek from our country house. Our house,although right on the creek with a beautiful view, had no privacy. Looking at the house on the hill for years, I imaginied it to have the privacy I craved.
The house finally came on the market. Not only was it a run down house (although that could have been renovated) but there was no land around it and you looked directly at the next door neighbor's house. What a disappointment.

Before we decided to build-on and gut the house, we were going to buy a house instead. I set up an appt. with the realtor to meet her at a beautiful, restored Victorian on a corner lot. The inside was immaculate, no remodeling necessary.

But...the corner lot was so small there was nowhere to fence in an area for our two dogs.

Oh jakabedy !!! That's tragic! I can't believe all that house, all that land for that price! Can't say I love the kitchen but it's fixable. But the windows, pool, etc..... love it.

Jakabedy, oh that house is magnificent! I love the sunken fountain in the sunroom (?). I imagine it was the house that Mike and Carol Brady redecorated after the kids got older. For that price, some movie production company could buy it and use for movie shoots of that era. I would kill to have that dining room wallpaper.

When we were looking to move from an apartment to a house, we thought our then-neighborhood was unaffordable and were resigned to moving elsewhere. Then we saw a listing for a small-ish 1840s frame rowhouse in the funky/fun part of the neighborhood, which needed lots of cosmetic work but was still affordable. I walked in and fell in love with that house - I could feel good ghosts in it, and I'm not a particular believer in ghosts. It had character and lots of original detail to be preserved.

The tragic flaw was a mysterious bulge in the party wall. It was a wart-like protrusion, about the size of a large globe, knee height, in the dining room. The walls above and below the wart sloped out to meet it. The listing broker said it needed to be investigated but the owner wouldn't allow anyone to do so until a contract was signed (not unusual in NYC). DH and I brought in a structural engineer, who couldn't give a clear answer unless he had the freedom to open up the wall. Best case, it was something minor/cosmetic that had been there for the last 100 years, wasn't affecting the structural integrity of the building, and we could just put a sideboard in front of it. Worst case, the whole wall would need to be rebuilt, entailing shoring up both that house and the house next door which the wall supported, digging, engineers, city buildings department oversight, landmarks commission oversight, months of paperwork and tens of thousands in expense. When he couldn't even ballpark the expense for us - we were saying, "10K? 25K? 75K?" and he was shrugging - we knew we had to pass. Ten thousand would have been do-able; seventy-five would have shattered our budget.

I saw the house re-listed earlier this year. Someone did buy and renovate. The bulge is gone but so is all the character - they removed plaster moldings and all the old wood trim, cabinets, beams and the great walk-in stone fireplace in the kitchen and replaced it with this awful generic bland reno more suited to a 1970s ranch than a city townhouse. Sad.

While not a specific dream house, I have seen some lovely homes that unfortunately are built down in a hole so not only do they have a steep driveway, but the front windows are facing into the side of a hill...otherwise known as their front yard...and then mowing that puppy!

The tragic flaw in my current dream house is that, a, it isn't for sale, and b, we couldn't afford it right now even if it were.

It's in a hidden gem of a neighborhood, on a curvy circular street that doesn't go anywhere but in and out of itself, and that you'd never know was there if you'd never been asked to one of the magnificent 1920's era houses on their two- or three-acre lots overlooking the river.

But this little house, which is tucked in next to one of those gorgeous Italianate, Greek revival, or colonial revival things, was once the studio of a renowned landscape architect. It's simple stucco with a tile roof, open in plan, loaded with French doors, surrounded by simple, elegantly laid out gardens, and perfectly adorable.

I've only been in it once, but I long for it. Completely different from anything I ever lived in or wanted before, but the arc of life does bend toward simplicity and change.

When my husband and I were looking for houses, we came across a beautiful one in the country. The pictures in the listing showed a gorgeous interior and beautiful gardens. I grew up in the area where the house was, so I knew that it was near the ski hills with a breathtaking view. An added bonus was that my mom lived just minutes away and would look after my children when I went back to work after my maternity leave.

One day we took a drive out to look at it. I had assumed that the house was on the OTHER side of the road from the ski hills, but this house was literally ON TOP of the ski hill. No kidding, there was a chair lift in the front yard....

Oh, stephf, how funny! And of course disappointing in the extreme.
Would you be expected to hand out hot chocolate to skiers floating by in the chair...?

That house is amazing though....probably go for $1.5 mil if it was in our area....

Too bad that about the 80's kitchen and baths in Jakabedy's dream home.

I like lots of different types of homes, so I've found a few dream homes in my life. Usually, the flaw is the location or the total investment required to make the house what I would want.

Wonderful house jakabedy, I can see why you would love it. I cannot get over the price - that wouldn't get you much more than a garage in our city. It would be worth well over $1M, depending on the neighbourhood.

Your wonderful house reminds me a lot of my "not meant to be" dream house. An equally fab bungalow, full of incredible original bathrooms and dozens of clerestory windows, visited, accorded to rumour, by Dean Martin and Liberace back in the day (the house belonged to a friend of Paul Anka, who is from my city).

We visited it 3 times, it was exquisite. I so wanted that house - I still dream about it, literally. It was in a good suburban neighbourhood, but it was a suburb. I'm just too urban, I need to be able to walk to work, stores, etc., plus our current neighbourhood is gorgeous and full of children, so we walked away from our dream house. I don't regret the decision, but I'll never really get over that house.

Thanks for sharing your house, I love it too.

Jakabedy, I know the area you're talking about. I live a bit north of you and have kids and family in your area. You're right, that area is not likely to get any better unfortunately, but as you know there are pockets of re-development in the area too. Sadly it's been slow and unpredictable. Your 'dream house' is lovely and would be quite a bargain.

Every house in Boston has a fatal flaw.

One of my dream houses had a crack house on its front lawn.

It was an early 19th century Carpenter Gothic house up on a hill. Its sides and rear were enclosed by old trees, but it was no more than a three or four minute walk to a very hip, busy area with restaurants and a T (subway) station. It had been completely redone with AC upstairs, a comfortable custom kitchen, a wonderful large square screened porch with a ceiling fan right off the kitchen, a gorgeous bath. The house was small--only two bedrooms--but what had once been the middle bedroom was opened up into a library area that would've been great for my office, with a fabulous Gothic window.

Unfortunately, somebody must've sold off a bit of land long ago in front. In between the front sidewalk on the left, and the driveway on the right, sat a two-family house that had started life ugly and lost its looks from there. The two-decker porches were decorated in Dust Bowl style, crammed to the railings with rotting couches, auto body parts, bags of garbage that had never been taken out and fast food wrappers. Inside lived an addict/slash/dealer who regularly rode the revolving door between jail and the outside. When you tried to enjoy the lovely portico front porch, he'd stare at you. It's true that they did make some attempts to beautify their property--they festooned almost every square inch of their yard with shiny metal pinwheels and plastic moving gewgaws, which you got to admire as you walked up the sidewalk easement through their front yard. But it wasn't for me.

lol I know that house! I tried to guess what you might be linking before opening. I'll have to show to Mom and ask who used to live there. I see it has a contingency on it - snapped up.

The kitchen is quite sad. I hope it gets ripped out.

allison -

I thought you'd know the house! Reportedly built by a Dr. Callahan after touring a lot of MCMs in Mt. Brook and Vestavia, etc. He was with UAB West/Bessemer Carraway/whatever it was called in 1960.

I hope it winds up in the hands of someone who loves it and appreciates it. My fear is that with all that square footage, someone might be tempted to turn the den area into spare bedrooms, etc.

As for the kitchen, clearly it isn't ideal But it's clean and in good shape. I would probably paint it and go with it for a while. Its hard to justify doing much expensive work in that area.

Love the house!

I have a story about a favorite house. I interviewed for a job in Atlanta about 10 years ago before I met DH. I was told I was the leading candidate for the job. While I was there, I went around with a friend's RE agent. This was when housing was pretty good, so I was really limited as to what I could afford as a single person. Anyways, I found an awesome house in a neighborhood in Decatur that was so-so at the time. Even the cab driver who took me to the interview from the hotel said that he meant no harm but he could obviously see I was a professional white woman and why would I want to live there. If I had gotten the job I still would've probably bought it but maybe purchased a gun.

I can't remember the street name so I have no idea how this neighborhood fared since then. It was in the process of some revitalization at that time.

lol Mom would have known. His son, Bill, was a year behind me and his daughter, Karen, about three. We attended the same school. I know the family well. My sister's HS BFF lived just around the corner on Castlewood, so we passed the house often. Only bad thing about it (besides the kitchen) is 9th Ave is right behind it. :(

Oh goodness, yes. I am a shameful trollop when it comes to house love. A new one every week.

I confess, I wasn't into MCM until Don Draper got his new apartment. But now Id love to do something in that genre. Like that cutie pie you've linked to.

My latest love? Uninsurable. A gazillion hour drive. Seasonal (?) water. And a 63 degree beach. But ohhh...

Here is a link that might be useful: crazy house love

About twenty years ago, DH and I were shopping for our first house. Our realtor took us to a house... "It has some issues. But you need to see it."

She drove us to The Perfect House. Bewitching from the curb. It sang to me before I even got out of the car. Character, detail, proportion... it was gorgeous.

And then we went inside. Beautifully laid out. Wonderful traffic flow, perfect room sizes.

BUT.

The seller, now retiring, had been a salesman for the Contact Paper Company. (Do they still make that stuff?) He and his wife had covered every single surface with samples of Contact Paper. Every bit of molding, every cornice and baluster, every switchplate was meticulously covered with a random pattern of -- of what? Everything. The master bedroom had one wall covered with red flocked paper, one wall in pink polka dots, and and the ceiling was swirling black and white op-art.

There was no dumpster in the world big enough.

I still think about that poor house. I hope someone rescued it.

How funny, mclarke. Your story reminds me of a house that had been for sale in the town we used to live in. A beautiful, ornate Victorian in the historic district, and it had it all - plaster walls, moldings, ceiling medallions; fireplaces with elaborately carved surrounds; gorgeous woodwork; stained glass windows on the landings. On and on. Unfortunately, the owner at the time owned a wallpaper store. Every room, every hallway, stairwell, etc. had a different -- and VERY gaudy -- pseudo-Victorian paper. If a room had chair rail molding, it also had two pseudo-Victorian papers. I never looked inside the closets, but I wouldn't have been surprised if they, too, had been papered.

mclarke, that's so funny ! Our first house had the kitchen, and part of the dining room wallpapered with Contact paper, and yes, they still make that stuff! The bathroom was the (now) vintage pink tile with black tile trim, but the upper half of the wall was papered in black and gold flocked wallpaper....can you say gaudy? There was also a spot in the hallway that had a section of peel-and-stick mirrors with gold veining running through them, along the lines of a full length mirror.

looking back, I really don't know what we saw in that house, but there must have been something, we were there for 18 years!

Ah, yes, wallpaper.

My last house had a sort of strie-grasscloth looking paper in a truly depressing silvery gray-green in the stairway and very large upstairs center hall. (The small entry hall and stair wall halfway up was painted a stab at Chinese red with bright white woodwork - and "stab" is the right word. It was like standing inside somebody's heart...)

Dining room, same paper. So I started stripping. Turns out this paper was on top of a flocked paper that had been pasted directly onto the wallboard, with no interveining primer. I ended up taking it off with a steamer, a small putty knife, and tweezers. And what was left was a fuzzy brown-paper-bag surface with the shadow of the flocking on it. I loved it. I thought it looked like an ancient Southern plantation house fallen on hard times, or a Venetian palazzo. I put a coat of clear varnish on it. It was fabulous. My husband threatened to get his own apartment.

So because I love him more than I loved the wall, I hired a decorative painter who gave the stair and all the halls a finish that looked like aged leather, and camouflaged the damaged drywall surface. And we skim-coated and painted the dining room. A brief but happily remembered affair....

bronwyn's mom, talk about a palimpsest! : ) Too bad it was covered over. I would have loved that too -- extremely postmodern. People would probably pay good money for that finish.

We were all set to buy ours - had our home sold and even moved in because closing got delayed on the new one but not the old one.

Got a call from the Realtor = found out the seller had leased the mineral rights on the adjacent land on a 99 year contract to a open pit mining company, and they had plans to start work - blasting about 100 yards from our "dream home". And running heavy equipment 6 days a week, 10 to 12 hours a day. The expectations were the operation would be in business for 10 years removing rock, then close up. Not at all our idea of a quiet place in the country.

Since we had no where to go, we rented the place for that summer until we found something else. Wasn't too bad, horses got use to the blasting. They did put up a big berm between the site and the house. Could not sleep in on Saturday because they'd start up the rock crusher at 6am.

Hmm- that was back in 1999, wonder if the pit is still there.

OMG Macybaby, that sounds like a nightmare! Open pit mining right next door...aaaaaaaaaaagh!

Bronswynsmom wrote: "I put a coat of clear varnish on it. It was fabulous. My husband threatened to get his own apartment." Hahahahaha, I bet it was wonderful. Those silly husband-people, they just don't get it, do they?

No, sometimes they don't. But we have a veto rule. Anything one of us likes and the other one hates must go. Too horrible to have to live every day with something in your house that gives you the heebie jeebies.

And I firmly believe a happy marriage requires a very long leash.

My mother always said that she held my father firmly in her open palm.

Sorry, mtnrdrdux, but if that place wasn't seasonal I would be buying.

The contact paper sounds like a nightmare. I suppose it was free, but still....

I guess the contact paper would've been worse. We moved into a 50s ranch...we were the 2nd owners....as our starter home and literally every room in the house was paneled in the 70's 4x8 sheet panels. When we asked why, the homeowner just said he didn't like to paint. I mean even the bathroom was paneled above the shoulder-high yellow tile...and the home-made vanity was covered in matching paneling. The bedrooms were worse...paneled in the gray and off white pressboard type paneling, and one bedroom even had a drop ceiling!!! It was literally years of effort to peel and patch and paint or wallpaper each room. (not to mention the nightmare wall papers we found buried underneath the paneling!) But we were young, foolish, DIYers in those days. Can't complain, though....we got 34 years of bliss out of that place.

After looking at over 60 houses (I'd fallen in love with #1 and about #50), we bought a house that we could afford. It was incredibly ugly, but I decided it was plain enough that we could make major changes (and it had 2 acres of gardenable property.) Every wall had fake wood paneling. Behind the paneling we found unmatched chunks of drywall, with big gaps, so it couldn't be taped over. Every floor had a different ugly color of carpet, including the brown bathrooms, every ceiling had 12"x12" acoustical tiles, each room's different from, and worse than, the last. There were only 6 windows that opened.... The outside was no better, an incongruous combination of colors, patterns and textures. Every picture of our kids growing up has a backdrop of either work in progress or still-living-with-ugly. We love the house now, but it took a lot of work.

Dream houses are like life partners, there's always more than one that's right for you, even though you don't believe it when you can't have the one you want. Don't despair jakabedy! There'll be another.

I came across my dream home by accident when I went to an estate sale. I knew it would remain a dream since the asking price was $1,075,000! The house was build in 1927, and the house, as well as terraces, garages, gates, fences, etc., we're all designed to resembled a farmhouse and grounds in Provence. All buildings were stone, and above every door/ window(exterior)was a vintage Ox yoke, cemented into the stone. The original seeded glass windows were all still intact, along with 2 small leaded glass windows. The largest room which was used as a family/living room had a fireplace of local Texas limestone from floor to ceiling. All interior doors were handcarved, and hardware handcrafted by a local blacksmith. There wasn't a front yard with grass, but an immense flagstone courtyard where at least 15-20 cars could be parked. The iron fence and gate, also handcrafted, surrounded the property and made it seem like a compound of sorts. It was built on a ridge overlooking the city, and in it's day, part of that view was the Capitol building. The flaw of this beautiful home was not one, but two, 2 story, 4 unit townhomes as neighbors. Even though they were stone and very expensive units, they were still eyesores in the neighborhood.

According to the 'story', which was included in the listing, the gentleman who built the house was a journalist, and loved to entertain. Many politicians and people of 'notariety' visiting Austin were invited to stay at the home. It was the second owners' son selling the house for his father who had lived in the house for many years and the money was needed for his care. The son didn't show any desire to keep the home! For me, it was definitely love at first sight. ; o)

Well, we decided to go look at the house, anyway. I've learned that in two-dimensional pictures, one can fantasize about what may or may not be. But in person, one can truly judge. It's a wonderful house. Terrazo tile and travertine flooring, travertine fireplace, some original cork flooring, interesting ca. 1960 recessed directional lighting, awesome vintage wallpapers. It needs some cleaning, purging, spiffing up, etc. And the 1980s kitchen and master bath would have been best left undone (the cultured marble with columns soaking tub was put in on top of what was a mosaic tile sunken Roman-style tub). But despite its wonderful-ness, and ignoring for a moment the actual location issues, it still wouldn't be an ideal home for us.

It has a formal LR/DR that we would likely never use (part of what we love about the current house is that we use all of it). We need storage for musical instruments -- storage that is easily accessible for loading. This house doesn't really have that, as the bedroom we would need to use is far, far from the carport. There also isn't really a place for us to park car #3 and two small trailers that we have. And DH's big saws, etc. that are in our barn/shop would be homeless.

It's also just a lot -- A LOT -- of house. I can't imagine trying to keep up with just the dusting, vacuuming and sweeping. I was trying to come up with a comparison to our existing house and thought I would compare the number of "seats" indoors in the houses. That includes chairs (club, desk, DR), sofas (2-3 "seats" each), etc. But not beds, ottomans, etc.

Current House: 17
Dream House: 70

Wow.

I hope that whoever gets that house understands what it is and treats it with love and respect. It's a lovely house.

Glad you went to see, that way you won't always wonder.

Funny to comparing seating. I am a chairaholic, so I won't be counting my seats. lol

Allison, that house is just screaming out for that card table that your parents had. It is a bridge player's dream house. The DR seats 8, and the breakfast area in the kitchen seats 6 (probably 8 would fit) But aside from those tables, there are four OTHER 4-seat, sit-around-and-play-cards-type tables in that house (two each in the den and atrium). There is definitely some seating overkill in the den, but it's not as though you have to turn sideways to get past any of it. It's a party/entertaining house, through and through.

We saw a lovely fourth-floor condo for my husband's home-away-from-home while on a work assignment -- clean, well-designed, modern in a European way he really liked, and lovely south-facing windows that looked top of the one-story building below onto a lovely broad boulevard.

But that one-story building was a little dumpy and out of place in the up-and-coming neighborhood. It was an "Average Joe's" fitness center that had seen better days -- a poor use of prime property.

We asked around and found out the gym was slated for demolition and a fifteen-story condo tower was being built in its place -- right across the alley from those wonderful south-facing windows.

We passed on that condo.

Last summer I saw a cottage on a lake I wanted, bad, LOL. It was at the end of the street, across from a very small park. That doesn't sound ideal, but it's a small park, not even on the Google map. The cottage had a fireplace, and a front room view of the lake. This summer I went to the park again, and spoke to the new owner. It's turning out to be a money pit, he needs a new and larger septic field and a new well. The lot is small and oddly shaped, so it's going to be difficult to fit it all in. Wasn't a close call because I could not have afforded it regardless. But I do feel better now.

My dream house, besides being very expensive, had outdoor space that was 30 inches wide by about 10 feet long.

I think DD2 is going to paint/reupholster two of the four chairs. Mom is using 2 in a guest room.

I'll have to call her tomorrow and ask about the Callahan's. They were probably a few years younger than my parents. Mine played canasta on a regular basis. I'll have to see what she remembers about them.

I love old houses and we found a completely original farmhouse in our price range. It was built around the turn of the century but was decorated from my favorite era, the thirties. It was filled with antiques--furniture, pictures, dishes, knick-knacks--it looked like the people just put their coffee cups down, left, and never came back. The lady's apron was hanging on a hook on the door. There was a Hoosier cabinet in the kitchen and a beautiful old sink with the big dish drain. All original light fixtures, doorknobs, original unpainted woodwork, fireplaces, two staircases--a fancy one in the living room and another more modest one in the kitchen. I like old wallpaper (in fact, I just wallpapered my kitchen with paper from the forties) and all the rooms had gorgeous wallpaper--dove grey with colonial medallions in one of the living rooms, cabbage roses in a bedroom. There were bark-cloth curtains on the windows, beautiful double doors with original glass in the front, and two porches with gingerbread and blue ceilings. I was absolutely in love. Then we walked out back and I could smell the oil seeping up from the buried oil tank. I still think about that house.

One of several of my dream houses....I looked it up and quickly discovered its fatal flaw: it was renovated, and by "internationally renowned architect-owners."

http://www.weichert.com/39605631/

Google on "Drumthwacket" and its outbuildings. This dream house had been the Dairy Barn. Scroll down the following to no. 7 and you'll see a photo of its exterior:

http://www.princetontwp.org/histdist.html

BTW what the brief summary to no. 7 doesn't say is that Moses Pyne inherited from his father a fortune that in today's terms would have been over $1 billion. Hence the outbuildings!

Another of the estate's former outbuildings is on the market! Fatal flaws include the price and the size of the house.

http://selvaggio.com/property/5609587.html

I thought I'd seen a link to another former outbuilding on the market. I have the feeling that one will suffer the same fatal flaws as the previous one. ;)

We actually lived in the one that got away. It was a bungalow with Batchelder tiles on the fireplace surround, built-ins (bookcases, buffet, and ironing board cabinet), and hardwood floors that felt like silk. Sigh, I was younger then, and I spent a lot of time on my knees, waxing those floors!

We were renting with a purchase option, but it was 1600 miles from our families and a job that my husband decided to take, so that was the fatal flaw. That, and something that a 'helpful' neighbor disclosed--the septic tank was on another neighbor's undeveloped lot.