Living in a Historic Home

Two years ago, my husband and I bought our first house—a historic home built in 1892. For us, neither of us having come from a wealthy family, it was an incredible accomplishment, especially at ages 26 and 28.

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From the moment we were able to call it ours, we began a million different projects! After all, a designer and an engineer are best—and worst!—combination for planning a renovation. I was full of ideas and could already “see” the final result before we even began. He knew how to get us there, immersing himself in a thousand books and youtube videos about wiring, plaster, or insulation.

We love our home, and the way in which we’ve been able to make it even more ours through several projects. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like living in a historic home, keep on reading!

Living in a historic neighborhood

Like any other home, the feeling of paying a mortgage and knowing that money is being invested in your own property is wonderful. This feels especially good since we both still have student loans we’re trying to pay off.

Beyond the regular reasons it’s great to won a home, I love our historic home, starting with our neighborhood. We have beautiful brick streets—yes, brick! Also, our curbs are really high up. Do you know why? When our neighborhood was first built, beginning in the 1840s, everyone still rode carriages, so the sidewalks were planned for people stepping off theirs. One of our cars is a sedan, and we have to be very careful to not open the passenger side doors too much. Otherwise, we hear that painful scrape you can feel deep in your soul.

The trees are as old as the streets. In the fall, the neighborhood gets especially beautiful, with the leaves trying to go from green to the red of the brick streets. It’s such an entrancing mix of yellows, oranges, and reds; it looks like a painting. Every day when I drive to work or come back home, I always stop for a quick second on one of our side streets to admire the colors and take a moment to be grateful.

Each house was custom built between 1840 and 1900, so each house is unique in both its style and its colors. We could not be further away from the cookie cutter suburban neighborhood!

Our historic home

Our home has gone through several renovations over the years. When it was first built, homes did not yet have electricity! All lights were gas-powered. There was also no air conditioning or central heating. Where our efficient furnace is today, there used to be a charcoal one. Our kitchen still has the remnants of its original wood-burning stove. The house has several sconces which for years used to hold candles to light the way at night.

It’s so cool to know we are part of its history, and that we’re entrusted with its next iteration. One day, future owners will look back at what we did and see us as part of this home’s story, which is already almost 130 years old! Precisely for this reason, we put a lot of thought and care into any structural or permanent changes we make. We want to bring the house into the future while simultaneously respecting its history.

It’s already been two years since we’ve moved in, but we continue to admire the original details. The wood trim is all original and hand carved with simple but delicate flowers. The hardwood floors are also original, and in wonderful condition. The windows are huge, and each one is a different size!

That was an in issue when we ordered the blinds, as we had to custom order all of them. It’s a good example of how we modernized the house but respected its essence: we chose top down, bottom up blinds that fit inside the window frame so that the trim could truly be focus.

It’s an interesting balance—it brings tremendous joy, but at the same time requires a lot more time, money, and stress. The blinds cost about 30% more because they all had to be custom cut, and we had to do a lot of research to find a supplier who could provide us with blinds that would fit inside our 1892 window frames. Every project becomes ten.

Living in a historic home requires a certain degree of patience. It’s unfair to expect that a house built in 1892 have the same level of insulation as a brand new home. During the summer, we open our windows and doors to maximize the breeze, and the air conditioning can really only cool the house to about 72 degrees. If we put the thermostat any lower, the air conditioning will just run 24 hours a day, trying unsuccessfully to keep up.

The same is true about the winters. The house doesn’t heat up as much as newer homes, which, in a winter as cold as ours, makes a big difference. We have friends who can walk around their houses in just shorts and a t-shirt, while we’re wearing sweats and thick socks. The bed is so cold we need to give ourselves a pep talk before getting under the covers!

But then we see our ridiculously high ceilings, the handmade details that no other houses have, see the small changes we’ve been able to make ourselves, and always come to the conclusion it’s all worth it.

Learning to love it

At the end of the day, we’re fine not having 100% of modern conveniences but choosing to adapt the house as we can. We’re redoing all of the wiring, putting in smart switches so we can turn the lights on and off with our phone or our Google home, for example. I’ll write a separate post just on the renovations to give a little more context and information on that side of it.

It’s a matter of perspective as much as it is about setting expectations. I confess we sometimes miss living in a “normal” house, especially when caught in the middle of a reno project that’s become more complicated because of historical elements of the house. But we know it’s such a privilege to live in a piece of history we can make our own, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.