Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That’s why I’ve gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.
Our present house is ostensibly “French Provincial” in style, which is McMansion for “Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano”. It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.
Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity’s sake, I’ll only provide two of them.
With regards to the second sitting room, I’m really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.
Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.
Here’s the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America’s most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!
Okay I really don’t understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?
Here’s a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)
Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn’t. I wish I couldn’t read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.
When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.
Anyway, let’s see what the rear of this house has to offer.
The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?
Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!
In which I am in my castle era.
As some of you may know, I have been going to language school for the last few months in order to learn the world’s most widely spoken and useful language: Slovenian. At this point, my Slovenian is about as coherent as, well, a McMansion. In order to feel better about myself, I have sought out a McMansion that is worse than my cases and word-order. This house (in Naperville, IL, of course) does, in fact, make me feel better, but will probably make you feel worse:
This Cheescake Factory house, built in 2005, boasts 5 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms and can be yours for the entirely reasonable sum of $3.5 million dollars. Also for some reason all the photos look like they are retouched with 2012-era Instagram filters.
First of all, trying to visualize the floor plan of this house is like trying to rotate seven cubes individually in my mind’s eye. Second, if you stand right beneath the hole in the ceiling you can get the approximate sensation of being a cartoon character who has just instantaneously fallen in love.
Even if this was a relatively mundane McMansion it still would have made it into the rotation because of the creepy life-sized butler and maid. Would not want to run into them in the middle of the night.
The mural is giving 1986 Laura Ashley or perhaps maybe the background they use for Cabbage Patch Kids packaging but the floor? The floor is giving Runescape texture.
Have you ever seen so many real plants in your life? A veritable Eden.
The overwhelming desire to push one of the chairs into the haunted jacuzzi…but in reality they probably put those chairs there to keep from accidentally falling into the tub at night.
(elevator music starts playing)
This is one of the all time [adjective] rooms of McMansion Hell. I personally am in love with it, though I don’t think I understand it. Perhaps it is not meant to be understood…..,
Continuing with the baseball theme, the guy in the painting looks how I feel after it’s been raining in Ljubljana for two straight weeks. (Not ideal!!)
And finally:
We love a house that has four unused balconies and also a sporting grounds that is large enough to build a whole second McMansion on top of. Everyone should so value their health.
Thank you for tuning into another edition of McMansion Hell. Be sure to check out the Patreon for the two bonus posts (a McMansion and the Good House) which both also go out today!
Howdy folks! Today I’ve decided to return to a long-neglected place of terrible vibes, Oakland County, Michigan. The house on special is, one could say, fit for a king but like maybe one of those kings that sells used cars on tv in the wee hours of the night. Anyway:
This house, built during the ripe housing bubble era of 2002, will only cost the good sir a marginal $3.2 million. For such a pittance, one receives 4 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms, and around 5,000 square feet. Princely!
Now, you might be thinking that this house will be decked out in the cheesiest middle ages decor imaginable – yes, Kate, surely you shall be showing us a cromulent McCastle specimen. Alas, nay, it is worse than that.
Here is my theory: the people who live in this house do not understand what houses are nor how one behaves in them. It’s like Mark Zuckerberg trying to be human. Nothing, and I mean nothing in this house matches, coordinates, flows, or makes sense. It’s subtle, yes, but when you start to notice it, it becomes infuriating.
yeah, you know what would look good in this mostly neutral room? a painting with a clown palette. good for the digestion.
Tbh I wish they stuck with the hokey castle thing instead of making a house that looks like a bank lobby.
There’s a weird Dracula subtext going on here and it makes me uncomfortable.
I am trying to understand the thought process here. First: tray ceiling. ok. normal mcmansion stuff. Now we need the two narrowest windows WITH a big fanlight on top. OK SO instead of doing a tray ceiling in the middle of the room, what if we did like, a double soffit with recessed lights. Ok. BUT THEN WHAT ABOUT THE WINDOW?? Well we could move the window down two feet or replace it with a more normal window shape, you know one that makes a modicum of sense. However, for some reason that is unacceptable. Hence, moldus interruptus. And yet (and yet) we still want that tray ceiling look because this is 2002. So i guess?? nail on some moldings??? but they’re brown because they have to match the doors instead of the white baseboards??????
???????????????
As a bonus, this room is the easiest for dressing up for Halloween.
You’ve got to give them credit where credit is due here. They had to find some kind of use for the McMansion foyer interzone despite the fact that it is a “room” with no walls that is clearly an oversized traffic area. It’s like putting lounge chairs in the middle of an airport hallway.
Finally, the back side of this house which is marginally better than the castle stuff.
Anyway, thanks for joining me on this confounding journey. Bonus posts will be up tomorrow, and there’s still time to catch me livestreaming terrible home design shows from the 90s on Thursday:
