What makes me drool is that it’s unique. Not just in location, but in architecture. Ever since I began sketching houses when I was 10, I always wanted something that was different from everybody else’s. At the time, that meant dreaming about anything except the vanilla tract home where I was living. A loft space in an old meat-packing plant, for instance. (Yes, Miss Anti-Manners, I am old enough to remember when Tribeca was a slum.)
Today, that means lusting after the top floor of what was once the tallest building west of the Mississippi. Or, as I wrote in my bio, the U-District Carnegie library. But both are out of my reach, so I keep remodeling my 1920 bungalow, making it a reflection of my taste and style. It’s not unique, but it is individualistic.
Come to think about it, that ability to leave my personal stamp on a house is still the best reason I know to own instead of rent.