Tag: Via Corona

We bought a house in a pretty nice town

(talkin’ ’bout my renovation)

Hear the peacocks all around

(talkin’ ’bout my renovation)

Everything needs to be replaced

(talkin’ ’bout my renovation)

Via Corona’s a total disgrace 

(talkin’ ’bout my renovation)

This is my renovation

This is my renovation, baby

 . . . okay . . .we may have recently seen The Who in concert.  On a school night no less.  Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey and my Dad are all the same age, but I digress . . .

Today’s post is a joint effort.

We looked at houses all over Los Angeles  proper for more than a year.  It likely comes as no surprise that I (TMH) developed a Google Doc to track the highs and lows of the 100+ open houses and showings we attended.

Of that 100+, there were exactly six in our price range we thought we might like enough to actually buy.  There is hesitancy in this statement because the market here moves so quickly you often have to bang out an offer while you are seeing the house for the first time.

Of those, we made offers on four.

Three of the four sold for more than the list price–including one that went for $200,000 over asking.

Nope.  Not a typo.

We went into escrow on two.

We bought one.

Buying a house in Los Angeles is a tough gig.

Unless you are a gagillionaire (and LA is crawling with ’em), compromise is the name of the game in Los Angeles.  Compromise is the sassy neighbor of settling.  Compromise insists you surrender to the reality that being responsible, dual income adults will net you a bend-over-and-take-it tax rate but won’t necessarily yield an affordable dwelling.  Swimming pools, movie stars indeed.

Compromise gently  waterboards you until you accept that you’re ultimately going to pay far more than you wanted for far less than you’d hoped.   Once you finally give in, it then becomes about finding the house that sucks least.

How the idea of “sucks least” is operationalized depends on the buyer.  In our case it was about finding a house with enough space to host guests, located anywhere South of the 10, North of the 710 and preferably West of the 405. (Note:  For those of you who don’t live in the Southland, read a handy primer on why we refer to our freeways as advanced articles HERE.)  

At this point we’d like to give major props to our fantastic agent, Ashley Sackerman Bell.  Ever patient and helpful, Ashley effectively helped us buy two houses: Via Corona and the one we cancelled escrow on last minute.  I consider myself a pretty practical person and not especially prone to hysterics.  But man, there were moments…like when after two inspections confirming the presence of disturbed asbestos at “the house we didn’t buy” the sellers claimed it was our word against theirs (and their word refused to confirm or deny the presence of asbestos).  Luckily we figured out very early on that all we had to do was call Ashley and she’d be the constant voice of reason.   She put up with a haunted clown house, obnoxious selling agents, one dirty old man house owner, a pretty paltry house budget by Los Angeles standards and most importantly: us.  If you are looking for an agent, Ashley is your real estate professional.   

As you may have guessed from that anvil we’ve been beating you over the head with for the last three weeks (subtlety: not our strong suit), we didn’t instantly fall in love with Via Corona.  Though, she did offer up this beauty:

If you can’t tell, our little nymph  here is actually tiled into the wall right outside of the powder room.  Permanently.  We’re not sure if she’s returning the urn or stealing it like some kind of distaff Indiana Jones.  We’re going with the latter though because it makes her seem way more bad ass.

But.  But.  We (well, at least one of us) really do believe that with some love and attention, Via Corona might just be able to toss her glasses, shake out her ponytail and become suddenly, stunningly beautiful.

As soon as the structural engineer confirmed that the house wasn’t going anywhere, we started calling builders and contractors.  To be very, very clear: we have zero DIY ability.  I (TMH) can manage a project and a budget like it’s my job and TD can come up with more adjectives to describe “fixer upper” than the OED (most of which rhyme with spit bowl).  But, as we’ve said before, “almost” isn’t the same as “being” fixed.  So, to the professionals we defer.

Finding a builder was like a fairy tale – if that fairy tale is Goldilocks and the Three Bears–and the bears are actually 10-12 hirsute men (where are all the women contractors?).  Being home renovation neophytes, we were floored when, upon committing to a major renovation, a pair of Canadian twins with giant teeth  (that’s TD talking…the original sentence read “attractive Canadian twins”) didn’t just magically show up at Via Corona prepared with 3D renderings and witty sibling banter.

Stupid HGTV.

More on the builder-selection process once all this is said and done.  They say you aren’t supposed to talk during a no-hitter.  So, out of an abundance of caution, we’ll be shutting up for the whole game.  Including the drive home.  At least when it comes to dishing about our builders.

But, that won’t keep us from sharing the project list.  if you’re scoring at home, here’s the entirety of everything our current contract says we’re taking on:

• Plumbing (all of it)
• Electrical (all of it)
• Rewire for cable, wifi and alarm systems
• Sewer (done…dodged a major bullet, doesn’t need to be completely replaced or lined – they removed a root that looked like a decent-sized platypus)
• Exterior cosmetic (anyone want a crapload of fake river rocks?)
• Living room addition
• Replace and reconfigure deck
• Downstairs powder room
• Guest bathroom–including moving everything around to create an en-suite
• Master bathroom–including moving everything around to create a shower that wasn’t made for an elf
• Juliet balcony off master.  Maybe. But don’t hold your breath
• Walk-in master closet
• Kitchen
• Laundry room
• Fireplace
• Raise the 6’8″ ceiling in foyer (complete with 110% chance of finding asbestos!)
• Raise the 7’0″ ceiling in upstairs hallway
• Replace ALL flooring, baseboards, door and window frames
• Replace all interior doors and hardware
• Replace front door
• Replace garage door
• Interior paint through-out
• Trim trees

So basically, like Demi More at 40, we are replacing the entire house with younger, newer parts.  Adjusted for inflation, Via Corona will still cost more to rejuvenate–like five Demis as much.  So, if you know any millionaires looking to make an indecent proposal…either one–or both of us would be into it.

Via Corona is the gift that keeps on giving.

It’s a miracle she don’t have mold (talkin’ ’bout a renovation)

She ain’t gonna die, but she sure is old (talkin’ ’bout a renovation)

And just because we were so proud of ourselves that we did SOMETHING on our own (we’re still patting ourselves on the back), here is a picture of what was formerly the master and smaller bedrooms’ reach-in closets.  Hello future walk-in closet!

UP NEXT WEEK:  “All that you can’t leave behind”

Next Up: Episode 4: All that you can’t leave behind

View a listing of all Via Corona posts: Via Corona

Before we start tearing up the place, it probably makes sense to show you what Via Corona looks like in her current state.

You know house porn?  Well, to paraphrase Justice Potter Stewart, “…I know it when I see it and the (house) involved in this case is not that.”

Here are Via Corona’s current stats:

• Built in 1966
• 4 Bedrooms
• 2 1/2 baths
• 1921 square feet
• 7,000 sq foot lot (give or take).

A word of explanation.  Some of these shots are taken from the MLS listing and others were taken with an iPhone.  It will be very clear which are which.  What’s more, the pictures were taken at different times during the previous owner’s move process and then immediately after we took possession.  None of the furniture, furnishings, digital clocks, wheelchairs, exercise bikes or wigs belong to us.

We’ve been calling her Via Corona because that’s her street address.  The street and adjacent properties are sort of etched into the side of the hill so that the houses are only on the down slope side.  Via Corona sits on the corner.   When the original plans for the house were submitted to the city in 1966, the lot was actually located on the other street the house borders.  We don’t know how much later Via Corona the street came into existence but we are amused by the fact that she stands on her own.  Via Corona precludes no “street,” “lane,” “avenue” or “boulevard.”  She’s just Via Corona.

https://misanthropichostess.smugmug.com/Via-Corona/i-SNpk5Pb

You’ve already seen the picture but it’s the only decent shot we have of the outside.  I like to refer to the style of the house as “rectangle.”  That tree in the lower left hand corner is named Stanley.

The previous owner was a tile layer.  And man, he must of loved his work because he brought it home with him.  Everywhere.  Also, that cupola needs a weather vane.

This fantastic shot includes not only a rusty gate but also a rusty mailbox and an excellent view of the “Arizona” rocks used throughout the front.  Yeah, I know, 1982 called and wants its white tile back.

Haunted house front doors.  Complete with matching wasps’ nests (upper left corner of the door).

And we’re in the house.  There isn’t much of a foyer.  You basically walk in and have to go to the right or left. Note the expansive height of the ceiling.  Not.

This is what you see when you go to the right from the front door.  This is a professional shot…if you couldn’t tell.  Here is what it looked like after closing:

Charming right? Those giant windows are just off to the left in this photo. Turning around:

And now we’re looking into the dining room and kitchen.

Looking back toward the living room from the kitchen.

Same angle, professional glamour shot version. Sadly, that digital clock was not among the treasures the previous owners left behind.

This my friends, is the kitchen.  The footprint is just about 12X12.  You thought we’d go for something larger didn’t you?  I see it as an opportunity in efficiency.

Just can’t get enough of that tile.  Moving along.

Here we have the laundry room.  The door on the left leads to the kitchen.  The ovens are immediately to the left as you exit the laundry room.  We have big plans for this little room and they don’t include keeping the linoleum or the current entry point from the garage.  You know what they do include?  A proper fire door.  Safety is important.

We’ve come nearly full circle.  There is a doorway between the dining area and beginning of the kitchen that nearly completes the oval.  But wait…before we go upstairs…

What’s mauve and brown and has an oddly placed window?  This powder room. It’s  hard to see in this picture but the the ceiling is coved and frosted.  It literally looks like someone spackled the ceiling with seven-minute frosting and then went to town with an offset spatula.  We may or may not be keeping it.

Do you want to go upstairs and see my fish tank?

Immediately to the right at the top of the stairs is the guest bath.  No, your eyes do not deceive you, that vanity really is knee height.

Straight across the hall if you are standing in the doorway of the guest bathroom is what will be TD’s office.  This shot was taken during one of the inspections when the owners were packing.  What you don’t see is a set set of wigs just outside of the shot.

Okay, let’s head to the left down the hall.

This little light of mine.  I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine…let it shine…let it shine…oh wait.  At the very end is another bedroom:

Why yes, that is a shop light installed in the ceiling.  There is a matching one above the matching desk on the other side.

Same room but the glamour shot.  The views from the three bedrooms on this side of the house are pretty remarkable.  We’re going to use this as an upstairs family room/den.

Head out the bedroom and to your left is the only bedroom on the front of the house.  This too is a professional shot.  This will be the official Via Corona guest bedroom.  We will begin taking reservations in early fall 2016.

Okay back down the hall to the opposite end of the house (you’ll pass the guest bath on the left and the office on your right).

Master bedroom.  Lipstick on a pig glamour shot.

Master bath.  You thought I was kidding about the tile.  Okay, out of the bedroom, take a right.

And it’s time to go downstairs.

Let’s go out on the deck (off of the living room).

You’ve also seen this professional shot before.

Looking back toward the house.  Living room to the immediate left, dining and kitchen at 11:00.  Sometime in the (hopefully) near future, the space all the way up to the post will be living room when french doors to the new deck.

Off the deck at sunset.  Bad iPhone shot.

Standing back in the front of the house.  This will be a  patio some day.  Right now it’s a cracked chimney, and two leaning walls.

And there you have it.  Our own sysiphean boulder in house form.  Mama mia, what have we done?

 

 

 

This is the true story… of two people… who chose to buy a house…work on a renovation and blog about it… to find out what happens… when people stop being polite… and start getting real…The Real World: Hollywood Riviera.

TMH’s perspective:

Let me catch you up.   A week after our house went into escrow last December, we went under contract on another house.  She was gorgeous.  And, you could see Ferris Beuller’s house from the backyard.  A dozen inspections and a super stinky pool guy later, we just couldn’t make it work with the sellers (that house is STILL hasn’t sold…so, we weren’t crazy).  We cancelled the contract on the house we were buying less than a week before closing on the house we were selling.  We hustled, put 80% of our stuff in storage, got lucky and have temporarily returned to the geography of our misspent youths: Hermosa Beach.

This is the view from our apartment.  The ocean is three blocks away.

But, that’s not my point.

A couple months later.  TD’s 50th birthday. We go into escrow on another house.

Still stinging from the almost purchase of a house that was asethetically beautiful on the outside but rotten (and probably haunted) on the inside, we took a different approach.  Or more truthfully, I talked TD into it.  Okay fine,  I wore him down with ROI algorithms and promises of an outdoor kitchen.

This time we passed up the pretty but mean girl for the diamond in the rough.  The ugly duckling.  The Cinderella.  The Laney Boggs (or Janey Briggs if you prefer).

Here is how I feel about this house (just pretend Rene Zellweger is talking about this house, not Tom Cruise):

Here is how TD feels about it:

https://vine.co/v/OZZYMjdP3ee

TD’s Perspective:

Fine, 50 and F&#@ed Up

Conventional wisdom tells you  to buy the worst house on the nicest street.  We did them one better.

We bought the worst house on every street.

For miles.

In every direction.

It was a flirtation that came on like the impending bankruptcy it inspired – little by little, then all at once.  One day you’re flush with disposable income, the next you’re the proud owner of a 50-year old, bona fide, four-alarm dumpster fire.

And whether your world-view is biblical (“pride goeth before the fall”), homespun (“no good deed goes unpunished”) or just plain practical (“just don’t f&$# up”) it’s clear at this stage our decision to sell our condo and ride this horse is, at present, the financial equivalent of, “hold my beer and watch this!”

Allow me to enumerate the positives of Via Corona:

1.  It has a nice view off the deck

2.  You can see the Goodyear Blimp take off and land from said deck

That’s it!  That’s the list!  Everything behind the deck is, to put it mildly, an utter disaster.

All together now

As you can see, we have very different perspectives when it comes to this house.  Early on, we realized that we had two choices: butt heads, take it too seriously and probably get divorced as our nest egg dwindles to jelly beans OR make fun of ourselves.  We’re attempting the latter.  And, being grumpy gen-exers in a millennial world, we decided to take you along for the ride.

Welcome to TMH 2.0…Real World Renovation Hollywood Riviera.  We haven’t quite worked out the format.  Sometimes TMH will write. Sometimes TD will write.  Maybe we’ll write together on occasion.  I’ll even throw in a recipe or two baked in our rental kitchen (get out your kaftans and fondue pots).

Each Thursday for what our building contract says is the next couple of months (which we interpret as for the unforeseeable future) we’ll bring you weekly updates.  It should be fun.  Or maybe it’ll be a train wreck.  Which should be fun.

Welcome to Via Corona:

Episode 2: Before