By Elizabeth Finkelstein. Photo by smilla4.
When my husband and I set out to buy a house last year (after 10+ years of casually looking), we had just three parameters:
1. We wanted something old.
2. We wanted something old.
3. And finally, we wanted something old.
Fortunately, we live in a very old part of the country, in a town busting at the seams with historical architecture. But our first-time-homebuyer budget didn’t allow for much pickiness just 30 miles from New York City (a.k.a. the most expensive place in the world). And anyway, our definition of “old” was very specific, and not easy to come by. We wanted George-Washington-slept-here old. 1600s old. Gigantic-stone-fireplace old. Stop-dreaming-guys-it’ll-never-happen old.
Well, it didn’t actually happen. We found our dream home in the form of a 1947 cape in the cutest (in my biased opinion) of the Hudson River towns. And on day one, before the boxes were even unpacked, we began our mission to turn it into something that looked really, really old.