It’s Good To Check


June 2, 2097 is the anniversary of Mark Twain’s famous and often-distorted observation, “The report of my death was an exaggeration.”

Ever eager to indulge in self-promotion and immodesty, I too enthusiastically embrace this self-same debunking.

Because yes, I can substantiate and verify that I am still busy hanging gallery walls, moving large pieces of furniture single-handedly, and all in all, am still heartily inspired. 

And while it is not often discussed in close circles at cocktail parties, another fallacy exists about home staging.  
That it requires a platinum card, a staff of hundreds, and a good sweeping into a dust hole. The ability to make a home saleable is neither a mystical talent, nor a God-giving blessing bestowed upon a lucky few. 

Saying that, not all stagers are created equal.

Set the scene. Tell a story. And give’em a great climax.

Effective staging is not an accident—it’s a strategy. It’s the makeup and wardrobe that seals the deal.
A home has to be true to its roots. You can’t make a mid-century bungalow look like it just jumped off the pages of Architectural Digest. But good staging finds the possibilities. It pays attention to details. It manifests signs of human habitation.
Successful staging focuses on a few special elements executed with great authority.

Organization. Get rid of the dross and organize what remains. (Two feet is ideal for blankets, two inches is perfect for Q-tips.)

And some things are best left in a drawer. Snapshots between the ages of 12 and 16. Portraits of their closest business associates, particularly if viewed from the toilet. Or a series of dog photos.

Focus. A room needs this to come alive. And not an Olympic-size belly flop like a 32-inch TV in the living room. Likewise, a giant speaker with a plant on top doesn’t mask the speaker; it draws attention to it.
A place to retreat. This may be a den, a bedroom or a sunroom. This doesn’t only mean scented candles. It could be a fuzzy throw draped over a bedroom chair, a book open on the window seat, a a bed laden with a smattering  of down-filled pillows. 

Smell. Give aromas their due. Houses filled with stale potpourri are about as desirable as men soaked in aftershave. Conversely, kitchen herbs exude aromas that are more subtle than any upscale air freshener. 

Comfort. Think a bonfire, not an airport lounge. It should invite nesting, reading, daydreaming, playing Scrabble, or snoozing.