I’ve always been a renter. I don’t know if that is a product of the places where I’ve spent the majority of my adult life (San Francisco and New York City) and the astronomical home prices in each or if it is simply fear of lawyers and legal paperwork. I suspect it is a combination of both. But despite all of my anxieties, I have always had major-league house envy.

My covetous nature in regard to housing revealed itself when my older sister and her husband bought their first property more than 10 years ago: a great row house with a fantastic backyard on Haight Street in San Francisco. Over the years, as their family has grown, the house has shifted and morphed in unexpected ways. They now have three amazing kids, and while no one ever thought those 1,750 square feet could contain a family of five, it has done so amazingly well. What was once a boxy kitchen has been liberated from its stucco walls and converted into an airy, open space that has become the center of the home—not only where dinner is prepped, but also where new dance moves are demonstrated and deep discussions held. What was a tiny sunroom/laundry room quickly became each new baby’s room, providing hours of restful sleep for all in the family. Their house has served its architectural functions remarkably well, and it has truly become their home in a way that no rental ever could.

As my interest in architecture has grown over the years, so has my house envy. This jealous streak hit its peak when I started spending a lot of time in Des Moines two years ago.

Suddenly, I was in a place where home prices seemed within my reach and there was plenty of great old housing stock to choose from. But more than that, I was now surrounded by co-workers who were homeowners...homeowners who were younger than me! I was always able to keep my house envy in check with my sister. She was supposed to have her act together and do grown-up stuff like own a home because, well, she was my older sister. But now I was confronted with younger colleagues and their beautiful homes. Not just houses, but homes. Places they’ve truly sunk not just their dollars into but their hearts and souls (see Deputy Editor Amy Palanjian’s brick beauty and Assistant Editor Alexa Fornoff’s bungalow).

So while there is something undeniably, inherently scary about making that first home purchase—don’t let our proud new homeowners featured throughout this issue intimidate you with their calm, cool demeanors—I’m always amazed that all my friends who have taken the plunge have come out on the other side just fine. A little like getting blood drawn or going to the dentist, buying a home is rarely as harrowing as it seems—at least to me. Putting this issue together has allayed many of my home-buying fears, and we hope that it might do the same for you on your journey toward that most American of American dreams—owning your own home.

Andrew Wagner
Editor in Chief