Here we are at a tent sale in Great Barrington, purchasing a kimono stand (Bill is decorating it) to be used as a room divider.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Finally it's ready!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Soon, there will be windows
The scaffolding is up in preparation for the 2 bay windows and 2 small bathroom windows. They've just started breaking through the brick!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Moving forward.....
You can now see where the rooms will be, and the beautiful wood and brick is slowly getting exposed.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Creating A Space We can Live In
So this week we sign the papers that will refinance the Hillsdale house. That will give us the money to purchase the condo outright and hopefully we will also start the interior construction of our home in Pittsfield. Heady stuff!
The last two months has been a whirlwind of activity. I guess the best decision we've made so far was hiring an interior designer to help us through the creation of our space. When I first saw the floor plans of our two bedroom condo and tried to picture what it would look like once finished, well, let's say I'm glad I'm in finance and not in architecture. No matter how much I tried to picture it, our space still looked like a warehouse every time we visited. Beaten-up floors, pipes to nowhere and wires dangling from the ceiling; all it needed was a couple of fork lifts to give it some atmosphere.
"Of course, you can change anything you like," Dan Soldato, assured us.
Dan Soldato works for Scarafoni Associates, the Clocktower developer. He is our contractor and as such is responsible for transforming our piece of this huge, brick paper mill of yesteryear into what we hope will be a uniquely original living space. Over the next few months, he will be our "go to" guy who marshals the resources of half a dozen sub-contractors on our behalf. It is his responsibility to insure that our condo not only meets 'code' but everything from the placement of walls, windows and ceilings down to the proper shade of yellow paint we pick is exactly as we specify.
He is the kind of honest, sincere guy that you immediately like and would like to have as a neighbor. Immediately, we both knew we could work with him. He reminds me a little of a young "Super Mario" without the white painter pants, but a good bit more handsome. He lives four minutes away from the development and is practically always on call, but yet can take the time to talk to his young son on his cell phone.
"Great," I said, gulping at the layout design (which I was looking at upside down).
Dan walked us through the place, describing how much of the antique beams and piping would be visible, asking us how much of the brick walls we wanted exposed. He mentioned the "R" factor trade off between insulation and exposed brick but of course quickly reminded us that the sun would enhance that factor considerably.
I nodded solemnly guessing that the "R" factor was something to do with energy conservation.
"Will you be wanting to put windows into that wall?," Dan asked.
Originally, we had selected a corner space on the second floor because it offered the opportunist of windows on three walls. Of course, we knew we would need to punch through the brick on the wall facing North Street. But how much, where and in what manner was suddenly a decision that was facing us.
"Oh sure," I said, nodding at Barbara, "lots and lots of windows."
"And lots and lots of brick, as much as possible exposed," she said.
"And beams, all the beams..." I assured him, pointing at the ceiling.
He nodded and took notes, measuring this and that with this measuring tape he carried on his belt. We talked with him for well over an hour before heading back to work. My head was spinning. There were so many decisions to make and not enough knowledge to make them. We had a long list of decisions to make from the color of kitchen cabinets to what kind, and how many track lights we wanted installed and where. Did we want two full baths, a half bath or a bath and a half? Was that beam okay where it was or will it needed to be moved and what about the utility room, was it okay behind the kitchen or did we want some where else?
Dan had explained that it was important to make our decisions and get them right the first time because if we decided on a floor plan and then changed our mind in mid-stream, construction costs were going to escalate substantially. It was obvious to both of us that we were in over our heads. That's when we decided to get some help.
Bill is about as tall as Gary Cooper and just as slim (although I've never seen him in a cowboy hat). His roots in the Berkshires go way back to 1898 when Eugene Caligari got off the boat from Italy to make his fortune in America. He did what so many immigrants do, he worked with his hands starting a paint contracting business that over the years evolved into a retail operation with five different businesses. His son William took over in 1950 and expanded the business even further into home decorating. He had three sons, one of which is Bill Jr., who is Vice President of that business and started his own interior design firm as well. During the day he owns and manages this business as well as a tapestry and curtain shop. In the early mornings and late evenings you can find him on the back of his horse.
One glance at his website convinced us that he was the man for this job. He had a lot of experience in converting factory floors into wonderful lofts. As luck would have it, he had plenty of experience since he had restored an old building in Great Barrington into his offices and workplace. The photos of that conversion had my heart thumping in anticipation. We called and made arrangements to meet.
Bil doesn't say much at first but he is a good listener. He met us at the condo along with Dan for an hour of consultation, which was free. I immediately sensed we were in good hands. He's the kind of guy that the more time you spend with him, the more he surprises you. He exudes a quiet assurance and competency that is melded to a creative mind with an artistic sense of the dramatic and unusual. We have both spent some time kicking around the world in strange places several yards off the beaten path. And he knew all about the "R" factor.
Bill was full of answers, new directions and helpful suggestions while allowing us the freedom to express our own creativity. We shook hands, signed a contract and both Barbara and I exhaled a collective sigh of relief. It wasn't long before we had an alternative layout that followed the original design but with a few changes that we think will make our home truly ours. Best yet, those changes, including three new windows, would be well within the budget we had in mind!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A great find in Williamstown!
Thanks to Kathy Waldheim, who found this very cool chandelier in a shop in Williamstown and sent us a photo from her cell phone, we will buy this to go over our dining room table. The weights in the middle are pulleys, and pull each light up and down. Very funky! Thanks Kathy!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Our designer
William Caligari, located in Great Barrington, is helping us transform our condo into a very cool, funky place! Here's Bill discussing the latest layout with him. Now, we are choosing paint colors, lighting, bathroom/kitchen cabinets. 2 steps closer....
New friends and more new furniture
We found these pieces by searching the ads in The Shopper's Guide! We wanted the kilim pattern sofa, and when we looked at the other pieces, we wanted them all! So we got them! Meanwhile, we met some very nice people in the process. We went to Ghent to look at the furniture, and met Michael and Jennifer Reis (here they are, saying goodbye to their furniture), who were also moving from Columbia County to Massachusetts (and very close to us in Pittsfield). Not only did we love all of the furniture they were selling, but we liked them a lot! Jennifer teaches yoga at Kripalu, I practice yoga, Michael practices yoga, Bill has been wanting to try yoga. So, we now have new friends to practice yoga with and go out to dinner at Kripalu! Tim McNamee, shown moving our furniture, came to our house a week earlier to pick up a bedroom set we were giving away. We already knew we wanted the furniture, but we didn't know how we were going to move it. And there is Tim, with a truck and available the following weekend. We've also been looking for someone to paint our house and do some other work, and (you guessed it) Tim has a business that includes all of those services!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
So Why Buy a Condo?
Pittsfield is full of wonderful, old homes. We should know because over the last eight months or so we have been in many of them. This was made possible through the efforts of our long-suffering, ever patient and simply wonderful real estate agent, Kathy Waldheim. Call it an education, our own real estate Odyssey that led us both to a lesson in self-discovery.
Starting out on our search for a second home, we were sure we wanted a house out in the country, some place similar to what we already have in Hillsdale, NY. You might rightfully ask why. So that Titus, our chocolate Labrador, could roam with the deer and the antelope while Barbara could continue to kayak and I could, well, continue to live like Davy Crockett after hours.
So we looked in the surrounding suburbs of Pittsfield. We quickly discovered that "suburbs" aren't really suburbs up here. There is the city; you cross an invisible line and bang, you are in the country or at least in another town like Dalton, Hinsdale, Richmond or Lenox. Most of these towns or villages resemble the covers of those Curry and Ives Christmas cards. Believe me folks, those quaint new England towns still exist complete with gingerbread Victorians and other wondrous architecture.
We were like kids in a candy store, first oohing over a mountainside home in Peru , then ahhing over a lakeside cottage on Richmond Pond. We even considered a log cabin in Becket. All of which are at least a 30 minute commute from the office in Pittsfield, but it was still shorter than the 50 minute drive we were making on a daily basis.
Reality began to set in. the lakeside homes in our price range were not worth what the sellers were demanding. Essentially, we would be buying lake rights. Many recent buyers were simply tearing down the old homes and re-building. We couldn't afford that. So we then looked for property with ponds or close to lakes. We found a lot of modular and prefab houses on 5-15 acres of land. We liked the land but not the houses.
After a few months of searching,we came to realize what you, my dear reader, probably picked up on immediately. Why in the world would we want to buy a second home so similar to the one we already owned, just in a different state? We realized that made no sense.
The initial idea behind the move was to make a first step into simplifying our lives. Yes, we had finally admitted to ourselves after years of struggle that we too were finally getting older. There might even come a day that snow shovelling or mowing the lawn might be an arduous chore. And yet all the houses and places we were looking at would surely add further complication to our lives. If we were looking to shorten our commute to work, to avoid battling the elements every winter, to move nearer not further from civilization then commuting and living in places like Peru, (where winters were even harsher than Hillsdale),was not the answer.
At that point, we decided to reign in our net and focus primarily within Pittsfield's city limits.
At first, the biggest hurdle for us in making that decision was Titus. How would our country dog ever be able to handle city life? Titus on a leash, walking on pavements instead of bounding free along country roads, how cruel could we be to him?
Of course, since I am a money manager, the dollars and cents side of my brain was struggling mightily to bring us back to reality. It was lecturing me on how stupid it was to be making such a large economic decision based on what I perceived my dog would want! But, I admit, the emotional side of me (call it the Dog Whisperer Within) was winning despite all my financial acumen, until I realized Titus (and every other dog in the world) would actually love being in the city. What dog wouldn't want to live among tons of people, who would fawn over him, allow him to jump up on them and lick their faces? Just imagine: hundreds of doggie rear ends to sniff, dozens of cool, new places to pee on and totally far-out sights, smells, noises and fabulous things to snarf up when we weren't looking and to keep him amused 24/7.
Once we had come to that awakening, we set out with a new mind-set. Feeling relief and a re-newed sense of confidence, we once again embarked on our journey. I suspect at about this time, Kathy our broker, was about to murder us.
It was only a question of time, effort and determination. There was the perfect house for us somewhere in Pittsfield. Of course, it would have to have a big backyard for Titus (the Whisperer Returns) and it would need to be out of the way, on a quiet lane or tree- shrouded side street. We found there were plenty of houses like that. Both of us fell in love with the older homes. The multitude of styles available on just about every block is an architect's dream. Federal, Colonial, French Second Empire Revival, Gothic, Victorian, Arts and Crafts, Queen Anne and everything in between is available throughout the city.
We loved them all! The stately pillars, green lawns, heavy oak doors, gingerbread porticoes and porches complete with swings straight out of 1930's Bedford Falls, were a sight to dazzle and make one think of grandma's house and just-baked cookies. Inside, stately living rooms with mantled fireplaces, french doors and cupboard-filled kitchens with the original beveled glass, brass fixtures and doorknobs all accented and trimmed with the meticulous carved woodwork of centuries long past. We strolled, studied and gaped looking upward at wonderful, molded ceilings, climbed dozens of dramatic staircases that lacked only the portraits of ancestors past to take us back 150 years. In late afternoons we poked in fabulous nooks and crannies, explored converted maid's rooms and attic lookouts, trod funky black and white tiled bathrooms with those wonderful old bathtubs with clawed feet, it was a nostalgic journey through an American factory town that had seen both the best and worst of times. How many times did I just run my hand along a particularly wonderful piece of molding and think of occupants long gone. Were they scholars, workers, veterans and if so what wars did they fight? Barbara would sometimes knock gently, feeling the solid oak of a door under her knuckles and smile. Remember those Bed and Breakfasts Inns you visited in the Berkshires or Vermont? Here they are, a dozen of them, ripe for the picking, all we need do is find the right one.
The problem we encountered was that just about all of them needed work. In that one, the staircase was just perfect but the rooms were too small or impractical but, with enough money and effort, it would be perfect.
That white Colonial we saw was on a quiet side street with beautiful maples sheltering the sidewalks but the yard was atrocious, and what ever possessed them to convert that wonderful porch into a sun room from hell.
We though we found the perfect house on Spadina Parkway, just two houses down from the mayor's house. It was "a cream puff" according to the selling broker, and it was. The Manhattan-based elderly couple had poured all their love and money into that house over twenty-some years. It was their weekend abode and through the years they had massaged every detail of each room into a meticulously crafted monument to their taste and artistic sense of interior design. They even had paintings in the laundry room! The back was a yard in name only. It was so formal that I felt I needed a tuxedo just to walk through this Louis XIV botanical garden. I could just see Titus, a mouth full of ripped up gardenias, digging holes under the statue of Dianna or swimming in the goldfish pond.
We actually made a bid for the house but the sellers made it so difficult to close that we walked away. Only afterward did we realize that by buying that house we were buying a sort of semi-museum and perpetual shrine to the former owners.
There was another home that we liked despite the $50,000 or so in additional work that the home needed in order to insulate it, fix the ceilings and walls, rip out and restore the sun room and completely make over the yard. We bid on that one too but the owners wanted more than we were willing to pay. In neither case, were we at all broken hearted when our offers were turned down. That troubled us.
Normally, when you find the house that is perfect for you, price is no object. You fall in love and that's it. Despite combing through just about every house for sale in Pittsfield, we were still looking and waiting for that special feeling. Neither of us could put our finger on it. I know that I was worried about what would go wrong with these old homes. The inspectors I talked to warned me that things would go wrong and the costs would escalate. Plumbing, electrical work, foundations, window frames, cellars , sewage, it was all up for replacement. It was simply a matter of when. True confession time: I have a mechanical aptitude of about 2%. It is so bad that when i want to open the window, I ask Barbara how to do it. These daunting certainties of future repair worried me. So did taking care of lawns, backyards and crumbling sidewalks. I already had enough of that in Hillsdale. Barbara, I discovered, felt the same way.
Quite by accident, while commuting to the office one day in November, we stopped by the Berkshire Eagle's office on a work-related errand. I write for the Eagle as a columnist, which is the county's largest newspaper, but I had never been to their offices. So I was somewhat surprised to gaze up at this gorgeous, red brick structure. It was, I found out, ,a recently-converted paper mill, circa 1850s, right in the center of town, although nestled in a valley off the main thoroughfare called North Street. We must have passed this huge sprawling monument to early Pittsifeld countless times but never noticed it.
As I waited outside while Barbara went in to pick up a package, I admired the blending of old and new that the headquarters building represented. The paper mill complex was divided into three units. The office building, which had retained all the charm of the original brick structure married with larges expanses of glass, vaulted modern ceilings and walkways with lots of exposed piping and wooden beams. Adjacent to it was a large, boxy warehouse kind of structure that appeared to be waiting for the same kind of loving makeover. To the far left was The Clock Tower, a wonderful slice of history and style, flanked on both sides by two charming brick wings surrounded by green lawns and modern walkways. I leaned forward to get a better view and noticed a sign out front.
"Condos for sale."
I felt a thrill of excitement course up my neck. I couldn't wait for Barbara to return. When she did, I practically jumped up and down in my excitement.
"Look, look, these are condos," I babbled, pointing at the sign.
We had not even seen the inside and we knew this was it. As luck would have it, a friend, David Fleming, who had moved into the city a few years ago with his wife Kathy, was providing us pointers and help in our search. He knew one of the original tenants in the Clock Tower and arranged for us to visit with them and get a tour of their home. Two days later, thanks to this gracious and lovely couple, we were treated to a tour of their home as well as their parent's condo. Their parents had recently purchased a condo on the same floor.
The entire condo concept was exactly what we had been looking for. In Manhattan's SOHO district, for example, a two bedroom loft like this would cost $2 million or more. In Pittsfield it cost less than a quarter of that. The wonderful possibilities of melding the old and the new, the funky with the traditional, appealed to our nature. Old beams, aged brick, ancient pipes and ducts, original wood flooring woven within state-of-the-art electrical, sewage and energy saving systems and materials was an answer to everything we were looking for. Modern fixtures, appliances, kitchens, plumbing and so much more relieved us of the task of high maintenance that is part of the price of all houses, old or new. No worries of having to fix this or that, shovelling the deck or mowing the lawn, which is becoming increasingly important to me at 61 years of age. Elevators, a five-minute commute to work, private parking, a short walk to the theatre, cinema, gym, dentist, doctor and twenty new restaurants with a supermarket and pharmacy across the street appeals to us.
Our journey was finally over. We loved the space, the concept and the people who lived in the building. We were sold before we even knew the price.
Starting out on our search for a second home, we were sure we wanted a house out in the country, some place similar to what we already have in Hillsdale, NY. You might rightfully ask why. So that Titus, our chocolate Labrador, could roam with the deer and the antelope while Barbara could continue to kayak and I could, well, continue to live like Davy Crockett after hours.
So we looked in the surrounding suburbs of Pittsfield. We quickly discovered that "suburbs" aren't really suburbs up here. There is the city; you cross an invisible line and bang, you are in the country or at least in another town like Dalton, Hinsdale, Richmond or Lenox. Most of these towns or villages resemble the covers of those Curry and Ives Christmas cards. Believe me folks, those quaint new England towns still exist complete with gingerbread Victorians and other wondrous architecture.
We were like kids in a candy store, first oohing over a mountainside home in Peru , then ahhing over a lakeside cottage on Richmond Pond. We even considered a log cabin in Becket. All of which are at least a 30 minute commute from the office in Pittsfield, but it was still shorter than the 50 minute drive we were making on a daily basis.
Reality began to set in. the lakeside homes in our price range were not worth what the sellers were demanding. Essentially, we would be buying lake rights. Many recent buyers were simply tearing down the old homes and re-building. We couldn't afford that. So we then looked for property with ponds or close to lakes. We found a lot of modular and prefab houses on 5-15 acres of land. We liked the land but not the houses.
After a few months of searching,we came to realize what you, my dear reader, probably picked up on immediately. Why in the world would we want to buy a second home so similar to the one we already owned, just in a different state? We realized that made no sense.
The initial idea behind the move was to make a first step into simplifying our lives. Yes, we had finally admitted to ourselves after years of struggle that we too were finally getting older. There might even come a day that snow shovelling or mowing the lawn might be an arduous chore. And yet all the houses and places we were looking at would surely add further complication to our lives. If we were looking to shorten our commute to work, to avoid battling the elements every winter, to move nearer not further from civilization then commuting and living in places like Peru, (where winters were even harsher than Hillsdale),was not the answer.
At that point, we decided to reign in our net and focus primarily within Pittsfield's city limits.
At first, the biggest hurdle for us in making that decision was Titus. How would our country dog ever be able to handle city life? Titus on a leash, walking on pavements instead of bounding free along country roads, how cruel could we be to him?
Of course, since I am a money manager, the dollars and cents side of my brain was struggling mightily to bring us back to reality. It was lecturing me on how stupid it was to be making such a large economic decision based on what I perceived my dog would want! But, I admit, the emotional side of me (call it the Dog Whisperer Within) was winning despite all my financial acumen, until I realized Titus (and every other dog in the world) would actually love being in the city. What dog wouldn't want to live among tons of people, who would fawn over him, allow him to jump up on them and lick their faces? Just imagine: hundreds of doggie rear ends to sniff, dozens of cool, new places to pee on and totally far-out sights, smells, noises and fabulous things to snarf up when we weren't looking and to keep him amused 24/7.
Once we had come to that awakening, we set out with a new mind-set. Feeling relief and a re-newed sense of confidence, we once again embarked on our journey. I suspect at about this time, Kathy our broker, was about to murder us.
It was only a question of time, effort and determination. There was the perfect house for us somewhere in Pittsfield. Of course, it would have to have a big backyard for Titus (the Whisperer Returns) and it would need to be out of the way, on a quiet lane or tree- shrouded side street. We found there were plenty of houses like that. Both of us fell in love with the older homes. The multitude of styles available on just about every block is an architect's dream. Federal, Colonial, French Second Empire Revival, Gothic, Victorian, Arts and Crafts, Queen Anne and everything in between is available throughout the city.
We loved them all! The stately pillars, green lawns, heavy oak doors, gingerbread porticoes and porches complete with swings straight out of 1930's Bedford Falls, were a sight to dazzle and make one think of grandma's house and just-baked cookies. Inside, stately living rooms with mantled fireplaces, french doors and cupboard-filled kitchens with the original beveled glass, brass fixtures and doorknobs all accented and trimmed with the meticulous carved woodwork of centuries long past. We strolled, studied and gaped looking upward at wonderful, molded ceilings, climbed dozens of dramatic staircases that lacked only the portraits of ancestors past to take us back 150 years. In late afternoons we poked in fabulous nooks and crannies, explored converted maid's rooms and attic lookouts, trod funky black and white tiled bathrooms with those wonderful old bathtubs with clawed feet, it was a nostalgic journey through an American factory town that had seen both the best and worst of times. How many times did I just run my hand along a particularly wonderful piece of molding and think of occupants long gone. Were they scholars, workers, veterans and if so what wars did they fight? Barbara would sometimes knock gently, feeling the solid oak of a door under her knuckles and smile. Remember those Bed and Breakfasts Inns you visited in the Berkshires or Vermont? Here they are, a dozen of them, ripe for the picking, all we need do is find the right one.
The problem we encountered was that just about all of them needed work. In that one, the staircase was just perfect but the rooms were too small or impractical but, with enough money and effort, it would be perfect.
That white Colonial we saw was on a quiet side street with beautiful maples sheltering the sidewalks but the yard was atrocious, and what ever possessed them to convert that wonderful porch into a sun room from hell.
We though we found the perfect house on Spadina Parkway, just two houses down from the mayor's house. It was "a cream puff" according to the selling broker, and it was. The Manhattan-based elderly couple had poured all their love and money into that house over twenty-some years. It was their weekend abode and through the years they had massaged every detail of each room into a meticulously crafted monument to their taste and artistic sense of interior design. They even had paintings in the laundry room! The back was a yard in name only. It was so formal that I felt I needed a tuxedo just to walk through this Louis XIV botanical garden. I could just see Titus, a mouth full of ripped up gardenias, digging holes under the statue of Dianna or swimming in the goldfish pond.
We actually made a bid for the house but the sellers made it so difficult to close that we walked away. Only afterward did we realize that by buying that house we were buying a sort of semi-museum and perpetual shrine to the former owners.
There was another home that we liked despite the $50,000 or so in additional work that the home needed in order to insulate it, fix the ceilings and walls, rip out and restore the sun room and completely make over the yard. We bid on that one too but the owners wanted more than we were willing to pay. In neither case, were we at all broken hearted when our offers were turned down. That troubled us.
Normally, when you find the house that is perfect for you, price is no object. You fall in love and that's it. Despite combing through just about every house for sale in Pittsfield, we were still looking and waiting for that special feeling. Neither of us could put our finger on it. I know that I was worried about what would go wrong with these old homes. The inspectors I talked to warned me that things would go wrong and the costs would escalate. Plumbing, electrical work, foundations, window frames, cellars , sewage, it was all up for replacement. It was simply a matter of when. True confession time: I have a mechanical aptitude of about 2%. It is so bad that when i want to open the window, I ask Barbara how to do it. These daunting certainties of future repair worried me. So did taking care of lawns, backyards and crumbling sidewalks. I already had enough of that in Hillsdale. Barbara, I discovered, felt the same way.
Quite by accident, while commuting to the office one day in November, we stopped by the Berkshire Eagle's office on a work-related errand. I write for the Eagle as a columnist, which is the county's largest newspaper, but I had never been to their offices. So I was somewhat surprised to gaze up at this gorgeous, red brick structure. It was, I found out, ,a recently-converted paper mill, circa 1850s, right in the center of town, although nestled in a valley off the main thoroughfare called North Street. We must have passed this huge sprawling monument to early Pittsifeld countless times but never noticed it.
As I waited outside while Barbara went in to pick up a package, I admired the blending of old and new that the headquarters building represented. The paper mill complex was divided into three units. The office building, which had retained all the charm of the original brick structure married with larges expanses of glass, vaulted modern ceilings and walkways with lots of exposed piping and wooden beams. Adjacent to it was a large, boxy warehouse kind of structure that appeared to be waiting for the same kind of loving makeover. To the far left was The Clock Tower, a wonderful slice of history and style, flanked on both sides by two charming brick wings surrounded by green lawns and modern walkways. I leaned forward to get a better view and noticed a sign out front.
"Condos for sale."
I felt a thrill of excitement course up my neck. I couldn't wait for Barbara to return. When she did, I practically jumped up and down in my excitement.
"Look, look, these are condos," I babbled, pointing at the sign.
We had not even seen the inside and we knew this was it. As luck would have it, a friend, David Fleming, who had moved into the city a few years ago with his wife Kathy, was providing us pointers and help in our search. He knew one of the original tenants in the Clock Tower and arranged for us to visit with them and get a tour of their home. Two days later, thanks to this gracious and lovely couple, we were treated to a tour of their home as well as their parent's condo. Their parents had recently purchased a condo on the same floor.
The entire condo concept was exactly what we had been looking for. In Manhattan's SOHO district, for example, a two bedroom loft like this would cost $2 million or more. In Pittsfield it cost less than a quarter of that. The wonderful possibilities of melding the old and the new, the funky with the traditional, appealed to our nature. Old beams, aged brick, ancient pipes and ducts, original wood flooring woven within state-of-the-art electrical, sewage and energy saving systems and materials was an answer to everything we were looking for. Modern fixtures, appliances, kitchens, plumbing and so much more relieved us of the task of high maintenance that is part of the price of all houses, old or new. No worries of having to fix this or that, shovelling the deck or mowing the lawn, which is becoming increasingly important to me at 61 years of age. Elevators, a five-minute commute to work, private parking, a short walk to the theatre, cinema, gym, dentist, doctor and twenty new restaurants with a supermarket and pharmacy across the street appeals to us.
Our journey was finally over. We loved the space, the concept and the people who lived in the building. We were sold before we even knew the price.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The transformation begins!
And so it slowly begins to transform...exposing the wood beams and cleaning up the floors. And, oh, that beautiful fire door!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
New/old furniture!
Last weekend, we went to a tag sale at Eastover Resort in Lenox, Massachusetts. It's a big, beautiful resort that's closing and selling everything. We lucked out and got some cool/funky pieces -- a sled that will be our coffee table (with a glass top) and 2 very funky heavy wooden chairs that we'll make cushions for.
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