From Posers to Voyeurs: Why Buyers Favor A Curated Lived-in Aesthetic Over Clinical Perfectionism

Among the great many things social media has ruined is our perception of what a home should look and feel like, and when it should be “done.” We do not all live in Architectural Digest, nor should we. Every home need not smell like the Heirloom Tomato candle that’s probably giving us a new kind of cancer anyway. I cannot help my home from smelling like fresh brewed coffee, or sautéed garlic, or, most often, this goddamn bulldog, and that’s ok. We cannot all function in a minimalist home that is somehow always in line with the current trends. Trends are of course, like me for the time being, cyclical. That 80s ice block most people ripped out? Kinda refreshing to see every once in a while now. Kinda works sometimes, even when everything else isn’t explicitly 1980s. It’s refreshing to see because it goes against the grain of what we’re all yapped at as far as what constitutes good taste and what constitutes bad taste. But what could be more subjective than one’s taste?

We’re in a moment where buyers are simply tired of walking into homes and seeing the same trite perfection over and over again. They’re bored of walking into places that feel sterile and void of a specific perspective. I watch my own clients light up the most when we walk into homes that aren’t professionally staged, but have instead been zhuzhed after having been lived in beautifully by people who’ve spent years curating their own unique style. There’s a detachment we’re all feeling from the bullshit of perfection, and the remedy is becoming people who simply do not care what you think is chic. Maybe the path there is learning from people who have stayed unbothered and uninfluenced, not the ones gripping onto instant gratification from their instagram followers. (I’m @alliealt there too, please follow/like/subscribe.)

As an optimist, which I will argue to the bloody death I am, I think people content in their homes shifted towards this mindset some time ago. But I exist in a world of Los Angeles Real Estate, where staging is of crucial importance and misunderstood often. That is not snark, and I will say it again: staging is of crucial importance. But all staging is not created equally, a fact glaringly apparent if you’ve dipped your toes in this world. A cutting board topped with plastic wine glasses and a bottle of Two Buck Chuck beside a bowl of wax lemons isn’t creating a hospitable ambience, and yes, I’ve seen that exact combo many, many times.

There are many reasons to stage your home to sell it. Some of the logical ones are 1. It helps people understand what scale of furniture and decor will make sense in this home, eg “Will my California king fit in this bedroom and still allow any space to walk?” And 2. It helps people differentiate between rooms. I know that sounds insane, but I’ve been through many empty homes with many very intelligent people who have stood bewildered and asked, “Is this….a dining room?” Emptiness can disorient us, especially when we’re stressed or fatigued, which is all of us while shopping for a home unless you have endless funds. But the most important goal of staging—the emotional goal—is this: to allow the buyer to easily project their fantasy of their future life onto this home.

This is why, staged or not, it’s uncomfortable to tour a home that has photos of the owners’ family everywhere, or awards their children have won, or their non-aspirational products (ben-gay, Metamucil, et al) sitting out on the counter. That tips us, the buyer, into intrusive territory. We feel like we’re interrupting someone else’s life in a negative way, and it impedes our ability to imagine a better life for ourselves in a space that so clearly belongs to someone else.

What’s curious is how easy it is to tip that feeling of Negative Intrusion into Positive Voyeurism. The question isn’t, “Is someone still living here?” it’s “Who lives here?” Believe me, there’s no bigger thrill for a buyer than to learn the incredibly cool home they’ve just stepped into is one the owners have just stepped out of. When someone’s home feels aspirational to our specific taste—and especially if they have the same books or records or ceramics we have—it’s inherently exciting. We feel an intimate connection, you know that thing we’re all yearning for and trying to fake on the internet. “This is THEIR stuff?” buyers will marvel. “Ugh, they have such good taste,” clients will sigh, which is code for, “I’d like to be like them one day,” and being like them one day…might mean living in the home that their perspective has shaped.