15 Ways to Keep Your Clutter

January 30, 2024 by

Ugh! Purging is really hard, especially if you’re someone like me who has implacable standards, a mediocre schedule, and an addiction to TikTok “conspiracy” theories about moon landings.
Insta-grammers are always posting pictures of gee-gaws and gimmicks to show that “there’s a way to display and store everything.”  If that’s true, how come I can’t seem to find a way to exhibit my collection of ceramic squirrel egg cups I’d amassed in the nineties on eBay, for reasons that now elude me, or my vintage collection of “Sides of Houses” posters?  

I know what you’re thinking: Couldn’t I frame up some of those posters and line my hallway with them?

Sure, but full disclosure. To be a highbrow designer/organizer like me, you have to be willing to be clever. And that’s gonna take hustle, drive, and early-morning runs. 

I mean, who wants to look at a bunch of malnourished squirrels not holding hard boiled eggs lined up on a bookshelf? Besides, that’s where I keep my swim goggles, heart-shaped chocolate boxes, and appliance-related binders of impressive width.

Yes, I’m sure there are good solutions out there, but I’ll tell you this: I haven’t run into many. Every week or so, I peruse the local chapters of Big Box stores and watch old HGTV episodes mourning the lack of new and creative ways to appease my anxious attachment style. (which is why I tend to write so much about decluttering). Sometimes, I’ll even take time out of my day to wonder about how the economy works. 

So today I want to make a case for:the colonial impulse to collect and own that collecting is natural and frequently underrated. The oddest things can have the best stories — and the most meaning.
Clutter is either a mindless attachment to the material — or a mindless indifference to it. Something that you are not enjoying on a daily basis.
No, I’m not talking about the “clutter”emporiums of bric-a-brac possessions stacked like a Jenga tower in your garage, basement or storage unit that you have clung to as if they were holy water in a scorched desert, or the clutter bubble-wrapped in guilt, or the clutter that Alexander Fleming left in his laboratory while he went away on vacation resulting in mold contaminating one of his petri dishes.  

Nor am I defending pathological hoarder behaviour. Like Andy Warhol, for instance, who apart from being a formidable collector, was also a major hoarder. At the end of a day, he would often sweep the things on his desk—newspaper clippings, old letters, half a sandwich—into a carton, label it “T.C.,” for time capsule, date it, and store it. 
So before you run screaming in search of garbage bags and socks that don’t match, note that there may be clutter that you should hang on to, rather than villainize and purge from your life in a heartless way; what Rob Walker calls“mindful materialism.” 

Yes, I’m advocating and honouring the sort of, you know, hard to defend attraction we have for certain objects.  Now the reason we often have a hard time parting with our most whacky, minuscule, oddball, or seemingly unimpressive tchotchkes, is because these objects resurrect and enhance memories of a time in our life, a trip we took, a person we knew, an experience we had, a feeling we had.

They evoke and are affiliated with meaning. 
A elephant fashioned out of pop cans bought on the side of the road near Cape Town, a pencil holder you made in Grade Seven, a box of loose buttons from your grandmother, a necklace your friend gave you when she moved to Honolulu, your first pair of eyeglasses, a worn door handle decoration, a little leather camel, a rusty watering can.  These items can have emotional resonance far beyond their monetary and provenance value. They have memorable value; nebulous, malleable and priceless in their own unique way. 
                 
                           
Always Something Here to Remind Me 

In this sense, I submit that some sentimental items are necessary: they symbolize values, capsulize memories, and tell life stories. And that is not something to be taken lightly.                   

“Keep the best of the best and declutter the rest.”

 But remember, memorabilia is for retrieving pleasant memories, not miserable ones. For those, there are always websites, such as NeverLikedItAnyway.com that will buy your ex’s leavings, ranging from engagement rings to odd socks found under the bed.

Or a garage sale, a testament to the hours of preparation it takes to make $35.

Also PutItAtTheEndOfTheDriveway.com

Nowadays, when bland imitation is everywhere, your objects of choice should make you smile and pump in endorphins just by holding or looking at them. You don’t need to be able to mount a defence in a court of law to justify them. You just have to sort of say, “Look, this makes me happy.” 
 

THE KEY is to find room for your special things without the room looking jumbled and random. You don’t want to make your things look like uninvited guests at a party and have rooms devoid of inspiration and emotion, but instead, a space that feels homey, to be able to say, “This is my place, my fortress, my safe place.” 

By all means, jettison your belongings when you recognize that the amount of stuff you own has impacted a home’s ability to function as it should, or prevents you from performing tasks well.  

But before performing a Wild West showdown by renting a large U-Haul, recover your sense of agency and dig through that treasure chest of trinkets that has a story to tell, a memory to revive, an experience to remember. These objects that fertilize eye-watering comfort are bridges to other people, places, and times. It’s the poignant interplay between your senses, memories, and emotions.  

Each person has a story that should be told about their lives and their joy and their losses, and all of that stuff. 

Maybe the point is to proofread and edit the past tense of your life story — so you can continue writing it in the present tense. Cause some things are meant to be seen and touched. 

Well, it’s almost dark and I still have to find a place for my toothpick collection. 
Filed Under: Blog

Superheroes that Conquer the Staging Blues

January 10, 2024 by

It’s a bird…. It’s a plane…it’s… 

When people hear ‘Superheroes’, they immediately think of Dead Pool, Spider-Man, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and that’s about it.  

Some wear questionable tights, sport colourful capes, and have traits such as guarding the galaxy, controlling a swarm of bees, acquiring gills to swim underwater…and some – the hired-hero ability to sell a house profitably. 

Sellers often expect realtors to be Superheros: to get results “faster than a speeding bullet”, to have “X-ray vision” by seeing things through, and come to the closing table by “leaping tall buildings in a single bound”.

The training, paperwork, negotiations, erratic hours, driving on Deerfoot, another cold coffee — there are a host of logistical problems that would stymie even the best of heroes.  Day in and day out. No, it’s not easy to be a realtor–superhero.  But even the strongest superheroes must have their aids.

Every Superhero has an Arch Nemesis 

I’ll bet that some of your listings are so cluttered and unorganized that sometimes it crosses your mind to leave a “Dear Burglar” note, urging any intruder to help themselves.  

Dimensional storage is a trope in comic books that has characters pull objects from a space where they wouldn’t typically fit, the result of spatial manipulation.  

At first, the ability to organize anything with very few constraints or limitations sounds like it could only earn a hero a notable place in the annals of selling history. However, while it doesn’t necessarily offer any major combat advantages when it comes to breaking into or out of things such as safes or prisons, it is shockingly helpful when selling a house. 


                                     The Kryptonite Weakness 

Whether it’s in a bathroom cabinet, kitchen cupboard, or closet, a hero can store anything so long as it fits through the entry point. It’s a trick that redefines the concept of organizational genius.

There is no storage issue that can’t be taken on. 

Shape shifter
Gather cleaners and tools in a caddy which can simply be pulled out, used, and put back.

A caped crusader
In times of duress, the fortification of closets can bring immeasurable profit. 

Invisibility 
There often is space beneath a bed, so make full use of it by sliding boxes underneath. As long as it’s hidden from view. 

Alternative Versions 
See-through containers are essential when you need to grab and go: choose acrylic, plastic, or glass holders. 

Defenders
Rely on risers to keep items organized and to double up on storage space.

A plan of attack 
Hooks – so simple, so helpful! Hang them anywhere in an entry, hallway, or bedroom and they will instantly become decorative AND storage. 

Phantom Agents 
Builder’s grade light fixtures? Look no further than Tulip Lights. 

Super heroes are needed in this world, and no more so when it comes to selling a house.

Tights and cape optional.
Filed Under: Blog

Needed a Change of Altitude

December 12, 2023 by


“Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” – Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”

NOTE: The below forms a record of events that really happened. Everything possible has been done to embellish them.

What I love about the past is that it’s over. 

There are some views that are so iconic that they’re instantly recognizable – the Mona Lisas and Starry Nights of the natural world. They’re places that, even though you’ve seen hundreds of photos, feel surreal as you’re standing there, gazing, happily letting time slip away as you soak in their remarkable spirit.

“What is this life if, full of care. We take no time to stand and stare…” – W. H Davies

I never professed to live my life only by getting to the end of it, as a ticket to get to the future, but one of curiosity and considered challenges, and as Orwell said, to be left to myself, like cattle let loose on the plains of Argentina. As well, conscious naïveté holds me firm in its stead.

This life motto has often led to unsurpassed surprises, accomplishments one didn’t know one needed, and in this case, a knee strain, screaming quads, and a win for a large rock that somehow hit the side of my head when my head fell against it, leading to an ever changing profusion of colours seldom seen in the most stunning of sunsets. 

“If something’s hard to do, then it’s not worth doing.” – Homer Simpson

Thus, enter the serrated granite spires of Torres del Paine in Chile, a trio of peaks that look like daggers shooting straight out of the earth.

Torres del Paine National Park; a place so epic and otherworldly, its name is often spoken with a kind of hushed reverence. This vast and dramatic stretch of Chilean Patagonia is home to some of the most mind-blowing beautiful scenery on Earth, and hiking the 76 km. “W-trek” is one of the greatest ways to immerse yourself in it.

It is undoubtedly one of the best (and challenging) treks in Patagonia, beset by ice fields, turquoise lagoons, glacier-fed waterfalls and verdant forests – and rocks, lots of rocks. 

 So I said, “How hard can it be?” (2 AM in bed is perhaps not the optimal moment of which to derive a true picture of reality.)It seems that each country I go to separates me further from financial security and an understanding of my purpose on Earth.



So I set off, flying from Barilouce to Buenos Aries to Santiago to Puerta Natales, with nothing but a song in my heart and a pocket full of dreams.

But my benchmark for what was enjoyable and what was not, was soon to be lowered over the next four days. 

“Too much is never enough.” – Immortal words attributed both to Mick Jagger and 18th-century playwright Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais        

The mileage and elevation gain of the W-Trek is no joke – 76 kms. and 2730 metres of climbing through Torres Del Paine National Park. In other words, about 100,000 steps – most of it up and down. There are some sections that clock up altitudes of over 610 meters in just a few hours, only to lose it that afternoon.

If there’s one constant about the weather in Patagonia, it’s that there’s nothing constant about it.

The cocktail “wind & rain” have you soaked within minutes: sleet to snow to heavy rain to sun can come in a matter of minutes. Spring in the Patagonian mountains is known for its extreme winds which can reach speeds of up to 161 kph. We heard plenty of stories of pack covers and rain ponchos being whipped off and torn to shreds. And of 6’ men being blown over, backpack and all. 

The trails are well-trodden, if not always well-marked, with packed mud, slippery mud, loose stones, gravel, wet rocks (my nemesis, see above), low streams and bridges.



Now there are some salient core principles involved when undertaking such a fundamental endeavour.

A walking pole becomes your new best friend.
You will spend evenings revisiting memories of your misspent youth and being reminded of muscle groups you forgot once existed.
Mornings will see you rise as if recovering from open heart surgery. 
Sore calves and aching quads are badges of honour, with blisters and lost toenails marks of pride.
You find that the width of backpack straps decrease with distance hiked. To compensate, the weight of the backpack increases.
There’s such a thing as ‘too much fresh air’.
Mountains do what they are hired to do.

“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away.” ~ Pascal Mercier

                                                      
Day One. Climb and Punishment: Las Torres
My notes simply state: ‘trekking hell starteth here’.

After 22 kms. and 8 hours, the climb to Las Torres begins in earnest. It’s a gritty, demanding rocky terrain of steep, gravelly inclines and large boulders. There are moments when I, between ragged breaths, would look up and see tiny trekkers far above, feeling that the climb would never end.

It’s at least an hour of the final gruelling ascent, but in exchange, if you dare look down, the panoramas are absolutely breathtaking.

To quote Ed Viesturs, getting to the top is optional, getting down is mandatory.

The knee-buckling and slippery downward journey is more challenging than the climb up, and my legs are screaming by the time I get down. Really, to use theological terms, it is just too frigging much.I was beyond grateful for my hiking pole. One pole was ideal as it left me with a free hand to grab tree branches and boulders, haul myself up and down, and catch my fall when I slipped. Which was often. 

Cause just when you need an arm or a leg, suddenly the body has other things to do.

 

Day 2 – Come Hill or High Water: Lake Nordenskjöld
Despite feeling like my heart might explode, we cover the distance in around eight muscle-busting hours, with a few stops to take in the views, rehydrate, and give our racing pulses a break. And lucky enought to sight a couple of condors and no pumas.
Distance: 16 kms.  Time: 8 hours 



Day 3 – I don’t get it. The trail looked so flat on the map: French Valley
Days are long. Here, you get a stunning view of a hanging glacier that comes straight from Paine Grande, the highest peak in the region (3050 metres).
Distance: 14 kms. Time: 7 hours

 

Day 4 – I think I’ve peaked!: Glacier Grey
Distance: 11 kms. Time: 3.5 hours. 



The consensus?

A strange kind of exhilarated fatigue. Where endurance and stamina matter a lot. 

And a huge one for the books.

Anyways, this is how I remember it.

Filed Under: Blog

Don’t Cry for Me Argentina – A Backward Glance

December 7, 2023 by

         

What world is this, the place I had come to? 

There it was before me. 

Buenos Aries, an eclectic cocktail of fast-moving, seductive, chaotic, exuberant; a clamourous nexus of place unrestricted by considerations of time and place. Adorable and maddening, sensuous and scatty, surprising and subtle, difficult and endlessly charming.

New versus old, speed versus slow, familiarity versus discovery; all laying rise to be termed the “Paris of South America”: a fitting sobriquet. 

Everything was pitched in a higher key.

Buenos Aries is a city of both disparate tones and Epicurean textures, gratifying my sense of beauty and craving for the external finish of life, yet and at the same time, presenting a sharp meagerness of destitution. 

“Ah, the multiplicity of its appeals – the perpetual surprise of its contrasts and resemblances.” – Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth

It’s quite a mess. I mean, for one thing, the city thinks it’s European: Neapolitan balconies, Moorish courtyards, English mansions, Gaudi-inspired domes, New York skyscrapers, French parks and cobble stone streets that hobble the best of us. 

But who cares? Give me chaotic anytime. I prefer my cities a little on the crazy side. After all, the city has the highest proportion of psychoanalysts per head of population on the planet — three times the rate of New York. 

It’s said that Argentinians could commit suicide by jumping off their own egos. 

A century ago, it was the capital of the sixth richest country in the world, but middle age brought one crisis after another — until eventually the whole place is pretty well reduced to a sad Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

But Buenos Aires has the humanity to plant trees. Lots of them. And cafes. 


Buenos Aries has cafes the way Rome has churches. 

Here cafes are sanctuaries and they are on most every street, with battered espresso machines that look as if they were imported from Italy in 1932.

Buenos Aires takes its time waking up.

We are often the first to breakfast – 11 a.m. An hour regarded synchronous with sunrise. Sitting in my pew nursing a café cortado and a medialuna de jamon y queso is about as close to heaven as I was ever going to get. 


Walking my trillion steps a day, I happily endure cars honking, people shouting, music blaring. The streets are filled with kamikaze drivers hurling their vehicles through intersections, jammed with zooming taxis and groaning buses. Sidewalks are a contact sport. As well as hopping over dog poop. 

There are couples making out in parks, in front of statues, on sidewalks and on street corners, more than any other city I have ever been in. PDA is at an all time high here: it’s a town for extroverts.  

Buenos Aires is a city that rarely sleeps. 

I was never sure when porteños slept, because they seemed to be awake at almost any hour of the night. 

You can get a great meal at one in the morning and not have waiters stand over you urging you to leave. And in Buenos Aries, you must never be in a hurry.  

You can’t start the evenings festivities until late…like really late. We’re talking 2 AM. with some places staying open until 7 AM. You will see 3 year olds with their families exiting a restaurant at 1:30 in the morning and 80 year old couples strolling casually down Corrientes Avenue with ice cream at midnight. There will be people singing and laughing in the streets, trying to make their way back home after a night on the town. Most of them passing under my bedroom window.

“Bad wine” and “Argentina” don’t belong in the same sentence.

It’s a town where I can forget my sorry self and enjoy that trifecta of local passions: the whip-quick moves of sultry tango, robust wine, and succulent grass-fed pampas steaks the size of a hat you can cut with a spoon. 

All I know is that an Argentinian Malbec is never a mistake and often cheaper than water in restaurants. 


In Buenos Aires, there is no food without meat. 

Argentina is one of five countries in the world that has more cows than people. Meat-coma inducing carnivores will be in their element. Vegans and vegetarians, turn away now.

Argentina is unapologetically carnivorous, and tucking into an oversized steak is a point of national pride. I’m convinced that Argentinians subsist exclusively off of a diet of beef and carbs. 

It Takes Two to Tango

Dark, troubled, elegant, sexy, and fiendishly difficult to learn, it is one of the only dances in the world not meant to express joy. It originally dramatized the seductive moves thought to have been between a prostitute and her pimp. The lyrics are all about love, misery and death, deploying faces of melodramatic suffering. The pleasure of tango is its licence to be miserable; operating perfectly with my temperament. 

Nod thoughtfully. 


I’m staying in trending Palermo Soho, mimicking New York’s Soho district. It’s a nightlife epicenter, as well as its buzz-worthy cocktail bars, apartment buildings, shops, tree-lined boulevards, cobbled streets, grandiose neocolonial houses, and lively cafés-cum-art galleries. It’s indisputably the city’s busiest, most desirable neighborhood.

And the murals….


Buenos Aires stakes claim to many of “the biggest”, “the first”, “the highest”, “the longest”, “the most beautiful”…

Like the famous Avenida 9 de Julio, the worlds widest avenue. It has an astonishing 16 lanes; a boulevard that makes the Champs-Elysées look like a country lane. The entire avenue is bumper to bumper with snarling traffic during rush hour. I barely managed to cross it in one go.


Known as the bookstore capital of the world, Buenos Aires has an unbelievable 734 shops across the city – that’s 25 bookstores for every 100,000 residents. 

As a passionate bibliophile, I had to visit and was transfixed by the majestic El Ateneo, often referred to as the world’s most beautiful bookshop. As the famed Argentinean writer, Jorge Borges once said, ‘I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library’ andthe El Ateneo Grand Splendid bookshop, housing over 120,000 books, is certainly that kind of paradise. 

This theater-turned-cinema was converted into a bookstore in the early 2000s. Much of the interior, including the ornate carvings and frescoed ceiling, remain intact. Bookshelves replaced the rows of seats and the theater boxes were left for customers to curl up with a book. Dark red curtains frame the stage, home to a quaint café to work on your caffeine level. 


Then there is the Feria de San Telmo – the largest street market in South America.



They also have the highest percentage of pets per capita in the world. Dogs are particularly popular, with 60% of households owning at least one.

Buenos Aries has the largest Japanese garden outside of Japan. 

Then we have Argentinian Jorge Bergoglio, a.k.a. Pope Francis, the first pontiff from the Americas. 
Fun fact. Before he entered the seminary, Jorge/Francis was a bouncer at a Buenos Aires nightclub. He is a man who knows how to dance the tango and its equally sensuous cousin, the milonga. He is a lifelong admirer of Jorge Luis Borges. And like virtually everyone in Argentina, he is a soccer fanatic. San Lorenzo, to be exact. 


Buenos Aires has what is considered one of the world’s most beautiful cemeteries – El Cementerio de la Recoleta, second only to Pere Lechaise in Paris. It spans four city blocks, holds no less than 6400 graves, and has as its most famous tenant, First Lady Eva Duarte de Perón. (Evita)

Eva Peron’s grave is an understated monument with a tumultuous backstory.

When President Juan Peron was ousted in a military coup three years after Eva’s death, no one was sure what to do with Evita’s perfectly embalmed body. Unfortunately, it was entrusted to Colonel Moori Koenig. As she was shuttled between various hiding places in Buenos Aires, he became enamoured with the body. Eventually, he was accused of “un-Christian” acts, and the colonel and the corpse had to be separated. Perhaps his therapist was on holiday at the time. Evita’s body was then shipped to Milan and buried under a false name. Years later, when it was returned, it was interred in Recoleta beneath thick steel plates, possibly in case Koenig came looking.

At least that’s one of the stories. 


The labrynthine pathways of tombs and mausoleums of Le Recoleta contain many strange stories. Like that of Liliana Crociati, who died during her honeymoon (in an avalanche) and for whom her parents built a vault where they reproduced her bedroom and placed her sculpture at the entrance, wearing her wedding dress with which she was buried, accompanied by her inseparable dog.


Fútbol is a religion. 

Each team’s stadium is a temple. Games are wept over. Fought over. And spark serious family issues. 
Speaking of godlike figures, Maradona sits right up there next to the Virgin Mary and the Pope. He even has his own religion – Iglesia Araconiana, complete with its own set of Ten Commandments, including naming your first son Diego and considering the ball sacred.

Watching a footy match in Argentina is an intense, life-affirming moment, treated with the sort of fervour that borders on the obsessional. This experience will not be a quiet hour and a half sitting in the stadium watching 22 people kick a ball around. 



Think 7% inflation Is bad? Try 142%. 

To save up, Argentines stuff bundles of American bills into old clothes, beneath floor boards and in bombproof safe deposit boxes past nine locked gates and five stories beneath the ground. They spend their pesos as quickly as they get them, buying everything from TVs to potato peelers in instalments, betting the value of the peso will fall. In 2017, prices had risen so much that Argentina doubled the size of its largest bank note to 1,000 pesos, then worth about $58 on the black market. Today it is worth $1.52 Canadian. 

So my breakfasts are $3-$5 and a really great meal with a very good wine is $11-$25. 

“Cambio! Cambio!” 

I think there are more money changers than pigeons on Calle Florida. Which is where I went to exchange my pristine American dollar bills for Argentinian pesos. How it works is that men and women dubbed “arbolitos”, little trees, stand on the street yelling “Cambio! Cambio!” Once you accept a rate from one of the many sellers, they lead you to so-called caves to change the money in relative privacy. Then you put the piles of bills in a wheelbarrow or stuff them down your pants. 

It’s all illegal, but police standing nearby don’t seem to mind.



“You need to get out of the city once a week or you go crazy.” – Argentinian porteños

So we went to the city of Tigre, 30km. from B.A., an hour’s train journey. The ride cost us 15 cents.

Tigre is a tropical jungle where forested islands dot the murky river waters. It’s a riverside getaway with stilt houses, old mansions, aristocratic rowing clubs and craft shops. Life revolves around the river, with islands disconnected from the mainland. Islanders rely solely on boats, navigating the shallow rivers in small vessels.



But if you ever get the opportunity to come to Argentina (or Brazil), you must go to one of the most spectacular waterfalls in the world.

An UNESCO World Heritage Site, Iguazu Falls is the largest broken waterfall in the world, stretching over three kilometres. Made up of 275 individual cascades, they reach heights of 200 feet to create a stunning natural barrier between Argentina and Brazil, both visually and acoustically. We went to both the Argentinian side and the Brazilian side, as they are uniquely different. 

Not even the best of writers could describe the incomparable immensity, grandeur, powerfulness, vastness, and magnificence of Iguazu Falls. It challenges the paltry wealth of my vocabulary to even think to describe the experience. One needs to experience it. 

The sheer power and beauty offers a great deal more than sentimental adventure. Eleanor Roosevelt famously pined, “My poor Niagara!”, when she first saw the Iguazu Falls.

I left awestruck – and very, very wet. And very, very humbled. 


Te Amo Argentina!
Filed Under: Blog

Recipe for Success: Secrets from the Staging World

December 7, 2023 by

When Shakespeare wrote that all the world’s a stage, he probably never envisioned home stagers, those wizards of visual manipulation that magically transform interiors, imbuing purpose and functionality with the removal of a side chair or the placement of a throw pillow, similar to a beautifully directed play. 

There are many moving parts when it comes to staging a home for sale. But sometimes what is slightly off can be difficult to pinpoint.

I see it virtually every day, and it is quite disheartening—especially when many situations can be easily rectified and quickly accomplished before you open the door to your first potential buyer.  

So today for your viewing pleasure, here are a few “Tricks of the Trade.” 

1. Let There Be Light, But Make Sure It’s Good Light.

Would you sell a car without taking it through the carwash and having it detailed?

The same goes for the lighting in the home. The colour of light significantly impacts the look and feel, as well as the size and shape of a room. 

All overhead, floor and table lamps should have the same warm-white light bulbs (2700-3000 K) instead of “cool white,” “daylight,” or “blue” hue, which can make everything appear paler and washed out. Or in the case of mismatched bulbs – quite erratic.Update by removing tie-backs on curtains and drapes.Open curtains, checking that the side window casings are not exposed.  Get 25% more light by removing window screens.Tuck lamp cords out of sight as much as possible. 



2. Hide the Evidence

I get it, sellers live in a house, not in a Crate & Barrel showroom. But before buyers ring the doorbell, all personal hygiene materials, cleaning supplies, and personal memorabilia needs to be stored away.

You want your buyers to be fantasizing about the rooms and wooing them with the home decor, not the dirty laundry in the bedroom closet.

And buyers don’t want to see all the trips the sellers have been on by viewing a multitude of fridge magnets—you want them to feel it could soon be their own home

. 

3. Use the Goldilocks Theory

Just because it fits, doesn’t mean it fits.

Check for furniture that’s ‘just right’, removing pieces that are either too small or too large for the space.Example: Remove or add a leaf to the kitchen and/or dining room table.



4. It Just Makes Cents

Smell is shockingly important. Hands down the worst mistake is using plug-in air fresheners, as well as overpowering, chemically-scented home products that can either give buyers a headache or make them nauseous. 

Cigarette smoke, pet odours, and strong cooking smells may also trigger a negative reaction and/or create a suspicion that something is being covered up.

Erase all signs of pets. Potential buyers may have allergies.

5. The Crazy Ice Trick

Dents in the carpet from moving furniture?

Place ice cubes on the dents. When the ice melts and mostly dries, use the edge of a spoon to push the carpet fibers back in an upright position. A coin will also work. Voila! No more dents. 

 6. Flower Flash

Everyone deserves to be bowled over by nature’s rosy and unbridled beauty. Whether it’s a bouquet of simple tulips, a larger floral arrangement, or a potted plant, the sensory stimuli thay they provide perks up a bedroom, living room, dining room or a bathroom in no time.
First Course
Hang towels in thirds with no raw edges showing.
Paired With: Decorative soap dispensers.

Second Course
Bring books to the front of bookshelves.
Paired With: Hardcover, if possible. Only display books with spines.

Third Course
Clear appliances off kitchen counters. You want to sell counter space, not clutter.
Paired With: Except an espresso machine.

Fourth Course
Don’t set the table. It’s dated, distracting, looks gimmicky, screaming –“this home has been staged.”
Paired With: A large platter or a bouquet proportional to the table.
Filed Under: Blog

San Carlos de Barilouce: Living Inside a Refrigerator

December 7, 2023 by

I’m not going outside until the temperature is above my age.

Spring in Argentina’s San Carlos de Barilouce, makes a fiction entrance some might better describe as blistering, wrathful, diabolical. At least in my eyes. And body.


What this picture doesn’t show you is that it was approximately the same temperature as it would be if I’d been sitting on a glacier. Except colder. 

I know you can’t feel anything from where you are. You just have to believe me. 
At least the risk for mosquito activity is low.

For me, a holiday is best defined as “a woman lies down in the sun with a glass of wine and a book and gets up five to seven days later.”


But enough of that. I take up the burden of my tale. 

I didn’t plan to come here after Buenos Aires. I was supposed to go home. But as good fortune would have it, I have the marvelous? opportunity to go trekking in Patagonia Chile.

So I’m spending a few days of intermediate time here. I’m hoping that when I’m on this infamous Patagonian trek, I’ll be able to tell whether I have sustained an injury or that’s just how I am now. Cause sometimes I get winded just working my way through a bag of Skittles. 

Because of my unexpected detour and inclement weather, I’m wrapping up in my (only) three pairs of pants and five top layers, including raincoat and alpaca wool poncho. My poncho, a very welcome and timely purchase in Buenos Aires. 

They say there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. Yes, well. 

I listen to the wind moan day and night, battle driving rain outside, I’m chilled to the bones. It’s a consummate shock from the comforting warmth of B.A.  


 A Slice of Switzerland

With its snow-capped peaks and crisp air, this laid-back city in Patagonia makes you question whether you have landed in Switzerland instead of Argentina.

Bariloche is a city surrounded by thousand-year-old forests, mountains covered in snow and crystal clear lakes. Seven to be exact. Each with a unique landscape.  

I have seen quite a few groups of teenagers prowling the streets and have learned it is quite common for high school students in Argentina to take a senior trip to Bariloche.  


To hike or not to hike, that is not a real question.

Those in the know will scoff and say, “What is wrong with you? Bariloche is world famous for its amazing hiking trails, mountain bike trails, zipline, rock climbing, chairlifts up to the top of the mountain…”

You see where I’m going here. And it’s not up. 

I’m not really afraid of heights, just falling from them. I get nervous just standing on a chair. 

 Eat your weight in chocolate.

“What you see before you, my friend, is the result of a lifetime of chocolate.” – Katharine Hepburn

Thankfully, Bariloche is known as the chocolate capital of Argentina. I’ve counted at least eighteen shops on Mitre Street alone. Any self-discipline I may have is tough, because I’m the boss of me and that guy runs a really loose ship. 

Besides chocolate never asks any stupid questions.


“To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.” – Homer Simpson 

And alcohol. Malbec, Pineapple Cider, Fernet, Cerveza artesanal beer, and rum. You can even pose with a Saint Bernard dog with a small barrel of rum around the neck; his neck, not yours.


And lots and lots of travel agencies, since the main goal of Bariloche’s tourists is to leave the city.
But there is a dark side to Bariloche. After WWII, some quite atrocious war criminals found refuge here. The most infamous one is Erich Priebke who lived here undisturbed until, in 1993, German investigators applied for extradition.

Sadly, it was not unusual that Nazi war criminals found a safe house in Argentina. Mr. Perón was very cooperative in this field.


Lately I’ve been thinking about “life reviews.” I first heard the term in an interview Jane Fonda did with Julia Louis Dreyfus on her podcast.

I found that sitting solo freezing in a dingy hotel room gazing at faded botanical prints gives you plenty of time to muse on the subject. As well as the importance of making yourself useful to the reader by solving their life problems, while dispensing with the fantasy that anyone actually cares about your experiences; in other words, generally getting over yourself. 

We of a certain age know what it means to lose things – your looks, your loves, your reading glasses…and to remember that it is simply courtesy to others to give yourself a once-over in the mirror. And that it’s probably too late to take up pole dancing.

I mean, I really don’t look like the woman in the hotel’s magnified bathroom mirror I saw last night. I thought, that can’t be right. And I will never let that happen again. Of course it was scary. Not even God wants to see us that close up. 

Well, I’m just getting ready to not go out, but instead to a late supper of a considerable good Malbec – in my room. 
Filed Under: Blog

Supercharge Curb Appeal

October 11, 2023 by

In the world of buying and selling homes, there are two words everyone knows: CURB APPEAL.

Curb appeal on a house is a lot like going out on a first date. If you like what you see initially, you’re going to want to know more. 

Given the hailstorm of keystrokes I’ve burdened you with over the years, I can never emphasize enough the impact of inspired CURB APPEAL to create an intangible sense of delight and a quicker sale.

Not again, you sigh, when all you really want to do is order in Uber Eats. Again.I don’t want to cause more tears and anguish than the ending of Charlotte’s Web, but truly, I have nothing but your best interests at heart, even though you may prefer to talk about the lengthening lines on my face. 

I assure you that you are capable of any sacrifice only if it doesn’t last too long. Pinky swear.

Fall curb appeal is all about coziness and welcome, about adding warmth quintessential to the season without detracting from the existing elements.

So what’s the absolute best Home Staging curb appeal secret? 

Adding plants and/or flowers.

The beauty of nature trumps all.

Planters. Fill with pumpkins, twigs, artificial leaves, marigolds or cut sunflowers for a cheery fall look.
 
Potted mums are the iconic fall container plant. 

To save time and effort, head to the local garden store to purchase container plants that are already in or close to full bloom. 

Hang or arrange a number of them in the front garden, planters, window box or on the front steps.

Hold on a sweater-loving second, what is fall without pumpkins!

All I know is that pumpkins are never a mistake.

Pumpkins are the iceberg lettuce of the autumn world. Like iceberg lettuce, they last a long time and are available everywhere. They are inexpensive, colourful, lively, and great for the whole of the harvest season.

Note: Homes with high curb appeal tend to sell for an average of 7% more than similar homes with an uninviting exterior, according to a joint study by the University of Alabama and the University of Texas at Arlington. The study, published in the Journal of Real Estate Finance and Economics, continues to stress the importance of curb appeal, stating that the premium jumps to a 14% higher price tag in slower real estate markets. 

Sometimes all you need is a simple touch – like a pretty plaid blanket and a lone pumpkin on a front porch.

No one in the history of ever has said, “What a beautiful old door mat!” A good impression should start from the first step.

Keep it impersonal. Don’t advertise your favourite sports team. No joke mats like, “Hi, I’m Mat.” or “Not You Again!” or worst of all, “Nice Underwear.” 

Doors were made to be opened. 

Hang a seasonal wreath. The front door is that all-important first impression that moulds the opinion of every buyer –- and the end, as potential buyers take a last look back as they drive away.
It’s the recipe and not any one specific ingredient that makes for great curb appeal. This is the path to buyers’ hearts and an offer.Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk about curb appeal.
Filed Under: Blog

50 Shades of Gray

September 26, 2023 by

This love affair is coming to an end. 
Is boring black and white, minimalist and personality-less, white-on-white-on white, gray-on-gray-on-gray, past the sell-by date?

This love affair is coming to an end. 

Surely, we’re due for a change.
Yes gray, the ideal color for indifference, fence-sitting, keeping quiet, despair. Names like Cloud Cover, Morning Fog, Mouse’s Back, Squirrel Tail, Mole’s Breath…all particularly numbing, the charisma of soppy bread.
Walk into just about any home design store, and you’ll see swaths of gray upholstery, bedding and accessories. Rental properties and spec houses have room upon room of what my educated eye recognizes as Benjamin Moore’s Revere Pewter and Gray Owl on the walls of bedrooms, living rooms, halls and bathrooms.Several shades of why.
A natural correction is taking place.
How did we, known not too long ago for our penchant for pastels, let ourselves slip into a haze of gray? 

I know some of us may be clutching our pearls at the idea of gray going by the wayside, as gray and white – the two (seemingly timeless) tones have been at the forefront of our decorating agendas for decades. 

In the late ‘90s, when we were coming out of our peach-beige-mania, there was more of a high-end design movement about gray and dark woods. That trickled down into mass-market decor options. Now, as the design pendulum swings back around to beiges and now, we are realizing to our dismay that we have been living life in colorless spaces for the past several years.
What we’re experiencing now may be a ripple effect of the lockdown.Two years of being cooped up, bound in tormented seclusion staring at the same four walls, made us want to trade in our neutrals for explosions of colours reminiscent of adventure and excitement. Their re-emergence is a possible (colourful) light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. But don’t expect to wake up in a Smartie world of colour next week. It can take months or seasons to see these trends reflected in our interiors, since they often start in fashion—the most rapid of the trend cycles—and trickle outward from there.

I’ve seen nothing less in Europe this month. And a resurgence of 60’s fashion on the streets. 

People may be ready to accept more colour in their life, but it’s often a slow step-by-step process.
 
HOMEOWNER: “I’m one of those people who knows what I like once I see it but who has a hard time visualizing how things will look in a space or what colours will work well together,” 

Maybe it starts with a toss cushion, a throw, a peice of art, a vase. Then a side chair. And, eventually, they might find the courage to paint a cheeky mural or an entire wall.
 
Perhaps the safest colour is no colour.
I think we all had intentions of adding pops of colour, but found we had commitment problems.
As one who has never embraced gray, although I know my way up and down the gray paint chips, I have always found gray soulless. It honestly drains you, especially when you have to wake up to dull, gray winter days when all you want to do is pull the duvet over your head and go back to sleep.
But grays and neutrals aren’t necessarily going away, but expanding. Colours like green, which convey a nature-infused, organic reference, and a clay-like pink, mustard yellow, ochre, mulberry are increasingly being treated as neutrals.With most trends that cycle back into popularity, each new iteration will be slightly reinvented. We saw this with brass plumbing fixtures, door knobs, and cabinet hardware. Brass is now “back”, but it’s not the glossy, yellowy brass of the 80’s, it’s a rosier, non-glossy brass, with straighter lines and simpler shapes.
So, what colour is your future? 
By the way, if anyone is in the market for a Betamax…
Filed Under: Blog

To Prague with Love

September 16, 2023 by

               
“Prague never lets you go. That dear little mother has claws.” – Franz Kafka

Travellers versus tourists.  

For years, I was the archetypal solo female traveller. You know the one: untethered by a relationship, small children, few responsibilities, flitting around the world, enjoying flings, living and collecting wild stories in a rigadoon of delight.

So I’m in Prague, having a hard time pulling the camera out of my bag. Prague, the city of ‘One Hundred Spires’ – Europe magnified. 

I’ve sat through too many films, been so many places, seen a multitude of lovers holding hands on bridges, watched couples posing in front of beautiful buildings with open windows; scenes of lived experiences. But who can stand the weight of so many photographs, now so easily downloaded in multitudes, places and cities worn out from being seen too much. And really, who cares?

Travel isn’t about pleasure as much as it is hard work. Travel is a choice. You go or you don’t. 

What am I doing here anyway? The prayerful plea of every traveler.

Many hate flying and airports and taking off their shoes at security, but love and romanticize the getting there. 

Objects and events may bring things to mind, but in the end they remain no more than what they are in fact. They begin only when you experience them, and vanish when new ones follow. 

Maybe travelling, of forward motion, is a means of eavesdropping, driven by the hope that we might see or hear something we’ve never seen or heard before, of claiming a more you version of you. Maybe to be awakened from our slumber by the unexpected, to escape, if only for a short while, the deadening quality of routine. To unfurl a bit of rope. 

But there isn’t really much newness anywhere anymore, just other, worse and better, versions of every place where I’ve already been. But I have chosen this place and this time – and it simply enthrals me. It’s the kind of city you read about in fairy tales. 


Coffee to stay or Why can’t Canada get the sidewalk café right? 

Somehow Europeans were lucky enough to be born with some sort of café culture gene – a fluke of genetics, like Texans attracted like moths to high school football games on Friday nights. 

A sidewalk café does for a city what flowers do for a woman; they make her happy and attractive. 

It’s a state of mind, but the mood—the ambiance, is like a good French wine: it won’t travel. 

I have spent many an afternoon overstaying my welcome at beautiful European cafés. Sidewalk cafés, in my opinion, are the hallmark of civilized life – temples to caffeine, creativity and conversation.

Housed under striped awnings, the air tinged a delicate shade of nicotine blue, sits small round tables with stained marble tops and worn wicker chairs. There is the distinctive clicking sound of waiters putting down saucers and glasses, a sound I would recognize anywhere.

Instead of seats aligned in rows facing outward where sippers of coffee and aperitifs can watch the spectacle of the street, in North America, we install square steel tables under stout canvas roofs with drop down flaps, bulwarks of heaters looming over chilling patrons – a fate only the tortured writer himself could have imagined.

For the flâneur, the poet or the metaphysician at his notebook, sidewalk cafés were created by men who thoroughly understood that sidewalks are not merely for walking. Promenaders take center stage, strolling and being seen, while onlookers perch on the periphery. They are perfect spots for observing human foibles. They were made for loneliness and curiosity, detachment and togetherness. And privacy. 

Sidewalk habitues are blessed with temporary deafness. One may not be able to avoid hearing what is said at the next table, but one is never consciously listening. On the terrace, each man is an island unto himself. It is an accepted rule that people may bump into you or stumble over your feet. No apologies are expected or given.

And my favourite here? Café Louvre. Although not technically a sidewalk café as it’s on the first level, its design more typical of the Habsburg Empire at the turn of the 20th century, it was a favourite haunt of the upper echelons of Prague society where famous regulars included Franz Kafka and even Albert Einstein. So if Einstein was smart enough to go there…

The speed of inspiration. Prague is walked. This is capital. 

It’s that vagabond state among walkers — we street haunters move aimlessly, and are hardly ever on a mission. We drift here and there, letting thoughts change with the passing view, with the travelers instinct of inhabiting the moment. To find something to admire, to ponder, to discover. To, as writer Robert Louis Stevenson put it, to “follow this way or that, as the freak takes you“. 

To look up to find the “Hanging woman and man with umbrella” sculptures. In fact, it is paramount in Prague – you will miss much of worth if you are not constantly looking up. 



“The chief prevention against getting old is to remain astonished.” – Kevin Kelly 

I walk (everyday for tens of thousands of steps) with a touch of agreeable languor, a pleasure-seeking wastrel, even in this densely urban environment. I’m never wandering the streets alone. Not even at 6:00 in the morning do I have the streets to myself. And the only police presence I’ve seen was an officer sitting in her van thumbing her iPhone in the middle of a busy square in case a tourist wanted help finding a place that serves a good pork knuckle.  

You don’t need to saunter far to fall in earshot of a melody in Prague. Perambulating, I can hear strains of a Dvořák concerto coming from a high window, an opera singer practicing her scales, a child cellist struggling through a passage, street jazz buskers on one of the many bridges, then resting in the magnificent Baroque Klementinum Cathedral listening to Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” performed by the Bohemian Symphony Orchestra…daily musical sounds of Prague. And I didn’t miss an opportunity to hang out at the famous Reduta, where Bill Clinton twice rocked out on the saxophone gifted to him by the then-president Václav Hável.

I meander on cobbled streets, along winding rivers and across ornate bridges  connecting fairytale-esque architecture, through idyllic green spots of paradise, home to strutting peacocks. I walk over old territory with ghosts, past the smell of church wood, past a world of corridors, marble steps, great buildings, and past quirky, unique entirely unexpected irreverent sinister disturbingly amusing pieces of public art. And graffiti: here, an art form. 


So…a girl goes out into the world to find…only she finds she’s the same person in Newfoundland, in Slovenia, in Prague, as she is back home, with all the same flaws, the same obnoxious behaviors, the same judgmental rapture. Now she just happens to have two pictures of herself standing in front of the Mucha Museum. That’s not as good of a story. It probably won’t make it to a movie script, get more Instagram followers, or a free plane ticket. But it’s more honest. 


Staying at home can offer as many opportunities for growth and transformation and brain rewiring or any terms you’d like to use. If you’re the type of person who is more scared of staying home than wandering out there, then perhaps that’s what you should do. 
As such, this concludes the audio portion of your walking tour. I hope you enjoyed your time with me. Thank you, and please watch your step upon exiting.

Filed Under: Blog

Bacon, Beans and Listings

June 30, 2023 by

Sometimes y’all are completely flamboozzled on how to best sell a home given the mattresses on the floor, overstuffed furniture, clutter, heavy drapes, and overflowing bookshelves. 

In order to get the best possible price – and quickly, you know that you have to get the best posse in town, because there are a few out there that couldn’t drive a nail into a snow bank.
So if you want to lasso in buyers like a horse takes to oats and “have a little fun”, here are a few Staging Stampede Suggestions.
 

Livery

The old saying — you can judge a book by its cover – is seldom wrong. Say you’ve got a shirtless cowboy looking out into the field, leaning on his rusty truck, you pretty know what’s going to be in that book. So does this adage apply to a home on the range.

Gussy up the curb appeal during Stamped Selling by setting some flowers in an old cowboy boot or on a bale of hay.
 Mercantile

Ever since a man rode a horse, there has been cowboy wisdom. Corral those outriders in with a cowhide rug on the floor or toss cushions on a porch rocker, sofa or chair, making them want to sit a spell.

Just a cushion or two adds a pop of colour, a bit of fun and some texture that makes for a breath of fresh air and a treat for the eyes.

Grub

Coffee and donuts: the classic pair. Donuts really do make the world go round. Is there anything they can’t do?

Set out some cowboy coffee and mini donuts on a tray in the kitchen. This is sure to rope in a few hombres. 

I mean, everyone should eat more hole foods.
 

High Noon Scents

Nobody wants to walk into a home that smells like a cowboy’s tailgate, so put those boots way off in the horizon.

Final Words

Differentiate your listing by playing honky-tonk twang, making buckaroos just want to look off into the sunset and linger. Or two-step in the living room. 
Make your listing the “Greatest Show on Earth.” It’s a one shot go for broke performance.
Head ’em up, and move ’em out.
Filed Under: Blog
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