What it takes to sell now, Part II: Cosmetics count
A fresh coat of paint and a modest kitchen rehab can do wonders.
That's my takeaway from the now much debated anecdote I posted yesterday of the North Shore family who found a buyer for their Cape after lowering the price and doing a kitchen rehab.
Yes, dropping the price from over $400,000 to $375,000 was important.
But a tired-looking kitchen had been a turnoff for buyers, with the Ipswich Cape having sat on the market all through last year's spring market and into the summer, according to the broker.
Back during the bubble years, buyers went nuts over homes with hardwood floors, fresh paint and a little shine. Despite the downturn, that hasn't changed. We are talking about human nature, after all, and the importance of first impressions, however superficial.
In fact, homes where the sellers have taken a little care particularly stand out here in Greater Boston, which has an overabundance of older homes in need of work, and, more often than not, a lot of it.
Yes, I am generalizing, but the tired looking home with the big price tag is a common theme I hear from frustrated buyers who weigh in on this blog.
And, frankly, the dingy, overpriced homes I have seen myself have simply driven home the point for me.
A house I took a look at one Sunday afternoon last summer in Dedham was fairly typical. I was doing a little market research and had brought along my seven-year-old son to provide a kids perspective.
"This house has it all," read the flier for the village colonial, which was on the market for $299,000.
Well, if "all" means every conceivable turnoff, no argument about that.
For starters, the location wasn't so hot - a rather barren, treeless and densely-packed section of East Dedham.
But it got worse when we got out of the car, having parked on the street just before the driveway by the neighbor's house.
I am sure they are fine people, but their big, ugly german shepherd - and their ineffective, loud attempts to stop him from snarling at us from behind their chain link fence - went over well with my first grader.
OK, now we are at two strikes, and I haven't seen the house yet.
Figuring out how to get in was the next challenge. The three-bedroom colonial sat on an oddly configured lot wedged between two neighboring homes.
What looked to be the driveway and garage turned out to be owned by the neighbors with the friendly dog.
More fumbling ensued.
The real fun began when we got inside. OK, maybe I am killing my thesis here, but the kitchen supposedly had been "updated." If so, it still looked ugly to me.
Still, the dining and living rooms were a real treat - complete with mysterious gouges in the ancient wallpaper. The broker showing the home - it was an open house and we were the only ones there - helpfully suggested the owners of the now vacant home may have started to do some renovations and then stopped.
That or they were prone to physical violence.
Great. Upstairs was cramped. A bath straight out of the 1940s - the much touted "Hollywood Bath" maybe? - connected the master bedroom with one of the two other small, cramped bedrooms upstairs.
There was some potential charm in the house. A colonial built in 1900, there was a fireplace downstairs. But you had to have a lot of imagination to see beyond the dingy, outdated, wallpaper, which looked new back in 1955.
As I left, the broker let another bombshell drop - the house that had it all was now a steal as well, having previously been priced at nearly $400,000.
In this case, even a dramatic overhaul might not have been enough to counter the other negatives.
Still, if you can't get beyond how ugly a home is or how much work the kitchen needs, price is immaterial.
