Small Home Gazette, Spring 2023
Letter From the Editor: Down to the Studs!
In the early days of the club, our main task was just getting people through the front door of a bungalow. We knew once they stepped inside, they would be astonished by the woodwork; the architectural attention to floorplan flow; the sheer quality of construction.
We waited for that moment when they were hit by hygge, a Danish word meaning “a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being.” We knew they’d found it when they said, “I love it—it feels so cozy.”
Today we no longer need to coax people through the front door. Older homes are selling like hotcakes, even at sky-high prices. But many of these buyers—who say they love old homes—are coming in the door with no knowledge of architecture, construction materials or history; and no notion of why an old house can give you the “feels.”
I follow the “Our Old House” group on Facebook, one of many online old house groups, where people are encouraged to post their love of old houses and their old-house projects. But something strange is going on. In more than half the posts, these projects don’t involve restoration, or even renovation. We are talking about the phenomenon of buying older homes and then stripping the very hygge out of them.
Posts show “old” plaster and lath walls being smashed and debris carted off by the bucketload. Sheetrock goes up, wood trim is tossed, and solid wood doors wind up on Craigslist.
But removing plaster and lath walls, doors and woodwork not only removes architectural integrity and character, it creates a void, a hollowness. Plaster and lath walls are a huge part of hygge. Not only do they create a sound barrier, they actually absorb sound—specifically, low-frequency sound waves from wiring, appliances and heating systems. Studies have shown that low-frequency sound causes discomfort and irritability in built environments. In addition, plaster walls stabilize temperature; are extremely fire resistant; and don’t support mold growth.
In contrast, sheetrock walls resonate like drum skins. Gypsum drywall actually vibrates with sound waves, amplifying sound. Now when you walk in and close the front door to your “new and improved” older home, you no longer shut out the hubbub of the world. If you go further and create an “open floor plan” by removing walls, doors, woodwork and built-ins, you add to an acoustical echo chamber that will leave you irritated, not relaxed.
When old walls are demolished and replaced with sheetrock, the original woodwork goes along to the landfill. When we toss out woodwork, we toss out hygge. Wood is more than a building material. Recent studies have found that exposure to wood reduces cortisol levels and lowers blood pressure and heart rate. A study by the National Institutes of Health revealed that “touching wood with the palm calms prefrontal cortex activity and induces parasympathetic nervous activity more than other materials, thereby inducing physiological relaxation.”
Clearly these Facebook posters do not despise their old homes. They must have been drawn to them, and they report making improvements by creating their “own style” and bringing their homes “up to code.”
When we encouraged those suburbanites to move back to the city, did they bring a suburban aesthetic of “newness” with them? I fondly remember my grandparents’ bungalow. But what of a generation whose grandparents live in a Pulte townhome? What is of importance to them? How do we teach them about plaster walls and the beauty of unpainted wood?
I urge our Bungalow Club membership to join “old house” groups on Facebook (search in “Groups”). Stand with me in standing up for plaster. Be kind, be funny sometimes. If you are too appalled by a post to respond coherently, move along. When people ask what shade of gray to paint their walls, post images of paint color palettes from the bungalow era. Ask posters to live in and listen to their old homes before making radical changes.
We still have work to do.
