So my mom took me to a "show home" over the weekend, which basically means those of us who can't afford to buy a house that costs millions (literally) of dollars get to pay for the privilege of going and ogling. To be fair, all proceeds benefited a local battered women's shelter, so it was absolutely for a great cause.
Before I get down right bitchy, and it's coming, trust me, let me say this: it was beautiful. It had all the bells and whistles homeowners dream of including granite counter tops not just in the kitchen, but in the laundry room (I'm sorry. "Lavender Laundry"), a pool, a "walk in closet" for the master suite that was not so much a closet as a hallway with three bedrooms attached to it: his, hers, and (I'm assuming) hers, a central, touch screen unit that controlled all the heating, air, and audio, and what every home cannot do without: an elevator. My entire house could fit into the living room of this place.
And because it was a "show home" it was perfectly coiffed, meaning it had no soul (yet. The new owners are moving in at the beginning of the month.) Meaning there were business cards laid artfully everywhere. Meaning there were select pieces of clothing hanging just so in each closet with the names of the overpriced boutiques from which they came hanging daintily from them. Meaning one piece of furniture (price tag attached) in one of the kid's rooms was more than a Trading Spaces budget. Meaning it came with a brochure.
Allow me to translate (this is where the bitchiness comes in. I'm not made of stone):
"Manoir de Refuge": OK, this was the name of the house. Manor. Villa. Whatever. You spend millions on a house, you have to name it right? Like Fallingwater. Or Turkey Hill. The "refuge" part of the name would suggest that perhaps said home is located off the beaten path, right? The "refuge" part might lead one to believe you have to drive out in the middle of nowhere on some lonely state highway before you turn onto a three-mile-long driveway lined with trees at least a century old before one approached the home, surrounded, in part, by natural vegetation. In reality, all it meant was that visitors were shuttled from a church into a gated community across the street. Once inside the manoir the "beautiful views" encompassed other McMansions, sorry, homes, a (man made) lake and the turnpike. Seriously. I think, really, "refuge" means "away from the little people who can't afford houses like this."
"Vive la France": This would be the living room.
"Grand Manor Culinary Cafe": Um, the kitchen. Although it did have some really cool slide out spice racks on either side of the (Viking) stove. And a separate ice maker. All appliances disguised to look like cabinetry, naturally.
"Poudre Salle de Bain": In non-pretentious parlance, this would be called "The Guest Bathroom Off the Kitchen." It was tiny, but was complete with "beautiful aged copper glazed walls" complimented by a "lustrous black ceiling for dramatic effect."
"Bibliotheque": Also known as "The Gentleman's Library". My dad has a library. It actually has shelves on all four walls. And an outstanding World War II desk that I hope to one day own. What it does not have is an overstuffed couch. Or a flat panel, 60 inch TV. I suppose my dad's library is lacking in that capacity. Because I don't know about you, but when I go to a library of any sort I certainly don't a) expect to be surrounded by books and b) expect to be able to read in silence. Now, before my contempt gets the best of me, I will allow that there was a "reference area" of the "library." Accessible only by an iron, winding (read: precarious) staircase that had a lighted dome to complete the ambiance of the room (so says the brochure.) No room for a chair up in the reference area, by the way. But it did look down nicely upon that (60 inch, flat panel) television.
Two "chambres" and a "Princess Sisters au Paris": Right. In every other house people would dub these "The Kids' Bedrooms". These were the only rooms with original artwork hanging in them. And by the way, each bedroom had its own bathroom. God forbid one have to share. (They were, by far, the most fun. Color galore! If I had my way around here, my entire house would look like these bedrooms did. As it is, I have to compromise. Shudder.)
"The Club Room": Yeah. This would be the basement. Finished and the size of a normal sized home? Yes. But the basement none-the-less. Complete with a full sized kitchen, full bath, bedroom, and wine tasting room. Because you absolutely need a full kitchen downstairs in the basement when you have a full kitchen on the floor right above you. For entertaining, you see.
"Loggia": Also known as the deck by the pool.
There's more, but I won't give you the room-by-room detail. I will offer some off-the-cuff numbers:
4 televisions
6 bathrooms
4 outside decks
4 staircases
0 servant accomodations. Thank God for small favors.
By-the-way, I'm not making up these room names. And in case my point wasn't clear, we're talking about a house nestled in the suburbs of a typical, sprawling American city. Not the French countryside. We're talking about a house that was completed in 2008 in a neighborhood that literally started ten years ago.
Just saying.
All right, all right. I'm done. I'm sure the family moving in is quite lovely. I hope they donate often to local charities. Maybe they even vote on the Democrat ticket! But I doubt it. ->
Read the complete post at http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/tXCM/~3/523605877/chateau-de-pretention.html
Posted
26 Jan 2009 2:19 PM
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Trench Warfare
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