I’ve been to many, many Open Houses over the years in my quest for the perfect investment. And many times I’ve left feeling like that horrified person in Munch’s famous Scream painting.
Once, I visited a house filled to the brim with a doll collection. Everywhere I looked, these scary doll eyes seemed to follow me. I knew this house wasn’t on Elm Street, but why did I feel like I was in a Chucky the Doll horror movie?
At another house, the owner apparently thought prospective buyers would warm up to the place if they were greeted by stuffed animals in every room. For him, this was art at its finest. Moose heads. Birds. A bear skin — I guess the bear got away. True, the guy was a taxidermist, but really, who wants to look at a stuffed eagle sitting on the dining room table? Not me!
My favourite “art” display was found at a house in Kanata. Seemed the owners were au naturel art lovers. There was a painting of a naked woman over the bed in the master bedroom. There were naked nymph statues in the dining room and in the bathroom. There was a very naked iron artwork couple on display in the livingroom. Boobs and bums everywhere you looked!
Did I buy the house of nymphs or the house of dolls or the house of dead animals? No. Why? Because I was so distracted with the homeowners’ personal collections that I didn’t see what I was there to see: the house.
What would go into hiding if you depersonalized your home?