The Shoe House

I’ve seen crazy stuff in homes before. I really have. I’ve seen a basement pool table filled with sand and hundreds of plastic soldiers carefully placed upon it to re-enact a battle in the Civil War. I’ve seen people who had more photos of their kids than exposed wall. Nude art? Dime a dozen. Personal documents lying about? Plenty of times. 

One memorable thing we recently ran into was a huge number of shoes in a room apparently devoted entirely to, well, shoes. I smiled at the sheer volume of shoes; I laughed at my client’s reaction when she walked into the room. 

It may come as no surprise that when buyers leave a house like that they remember the shoes and little else. I have actually walked through homes that I thought were perfect for the folks but all they talked about after getting back into the car was the shoes, or the photos or the stack of adult videos in the master bedroom. 

Marie Graham, stager extraordinairre says it best: how you live is different from how you sell your home. If a client mentions Imelda Marcos after leaving your house instead of asking me what I think they might accept for an offer, you just lost a potential sale. And for a $500,000 list price, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when that happens.