Photographs by Hometenders
Home staging got its start in the late 1990s with the realization that sterilizing bare rooms with white paint and beige carpet wasn’t the best way to sell a house. “An empty house with the heat turned off is hard to cozy up to,” says Ted Wight, an agent with Dielmann Sotheby’s International Realty. On the other hand, leaving the owner’s furnishings in place made the house look a little too lived-in, its personality too distinct to adapt to the buyer’s. Enter stagers, a group of self-taught experts who soon became adept at lighting, setting scenes and supplying props.
Stagers know that although the hundreds of strands of Mardi Gras beads you’ve collected are fun and full of memories, they maybe shouldn’t be displayed so lovingly on the plastic tree in your foyer. And that velvet Bruce Lee in the bamboo frame hidden in the “man lounge” basement? Not even worthy of the basement. Not if you want to sell your house.
Home stagers aren’t implying that your décor disappoints; “distracts” is the more appropriate term. They know the art of placement, and they realize that buyers may remember the collection of kitten figurines in the foyer but never notice the carved oak molding behind it.
“Staging is really the art of the blend,” says Sandy Long of Sandra Long Interiors. Known for staging homes that sell in a day, she works with space and scale until she’s sure that potential buyers will notice the house, not the stuff in the house. “People are sentimental about their things. They’re attached. It’s my job to edit the house in order to put its best face forward and open up the floor plan,” she explains.
One big no-no for Long is the themed room, which is usually too boldly decorated. “Homeowners should make their homes generic—no personal photos,” she warns. “Too much of a good thing is just as cumbersome as too little—and collections of anything quickly become clutter.”
On the other hand, “an empty space doesn’t sell fast,” Long notes. “People look at houses all day long. Many have all-white walls, tan exteriors. People don’t remember one empty house from the next. Staging gives an identity to the house. The right mirror, the right candles, accessorizing—little pieces in the right place make a difference.”
Patching up gaping holes or manipulating furniture to hide structural flaws is not part of a stager’s job description. Linda Pohlman of Staging St. Louis notes, “Staging isn’t meant to hide the negatives, but instead make them not so glaring. If a home has little closet space, for example, the staging expert might remove clothes from a closet to make it appear that there’s plenty of closet space.”
Putting items in the right place is essential, but it shouldn’t be confused with interior design. Kelly Boyd, who co-owns Hometenders Network of St. Louis with business partner Terrie Short-Konsky, notes that although color, texture and lighting drive staging, its purpose is not to design for the owner’s personality, taste and lifestyle. “Interior designers focus on the homeowner. Home stagers are about the buyers.”
Boyd and Short-Konsky advise homeowners—in the nicest possible way—to pack up most of their belongings and get them out of the house. “Everyone thinks their stuff is ‘it’—but buyers may not,” says Short-Konsky. “It’s not about the homeowner, once she or he has decided to sell the house. It’s not their house anymore.”
Boyd nods: “We’re educators for the seller. It’s about streamlining and organizing to the scale of the room.”
Recently both women worked their magic on an empty townhouse in South St. Louis. “Some agents won’t list a vacant house,” says Short-Konsky. Instead, they call on stagers, who whoosh in to save the day—and the sale.
The morning of the South City staging, the empty townhouse looked, well, empty. It had all the classics—hardwood floors, molding, tile in the kitchen and baths—but nothing extraordinary and, what was worse for the seller, nothing that hollered I’m worth $205,000! All the slight imperfections glared back at the viewer. Is the molding a lighter color wood than the floors? Is the hallway floor less than level? The bathroom a bit claustrophobic? Yes. Yes. Yes. But a few hours later, the transformation was complete. A deep-ruby throw draped across a dark-olive loveseat and lounge chair, picking up glowing color from the painting on the wall—and making you notice the plant in the corner that springs up as though it has good news—which took your eyes up walls the color of warm butter to a high ceiling you wouldn’t have noticed a few hours earlier.
“Staging is a hard thing to do—the planning, preparation, enhancing strengths and minimizing weaknesses,” Boyd says. “Sometimes we come in the home without the seller; go room by room, taking notes on suggestions; and give that proposal to the seller.” If they’re hired, they make the proposal come to life.
“People need to have their homes prepared in this way before putting them on the market, not two months after,” she adds. “Serious buyers are coming in the first 30 days. If the home makes a statement, it’s sold.”
Naysayers claim that staged homes look more like hotel suites than tried-and-true, lived-in residences—but no one can argue with the success rates. Jill Kelly, an agent with Coldwell Banker Gundaker, has seen the proof: “[Boyd and Short-Konsky] did an outstanding job staging a home that was on the market for nearly a year. The home was staged by them and sold within one week.”
It was the buyer’s turn to make the house a home.
Skip the Greasepaint
Don’t want to bother with rehearsals and staging? There’s always HomeVestors, which moved into the St. Louis market four years ago. You’ve groaned over Ug, the caveman on the company’s billboards who brags about buying ugly houses—but the houses don’t actually have to be ugly. It’s more about not wanting to tackle all those repairs you put off while you were living there—let alone scrub and fuss and then watch strangers swing open closet doors, stamp on squeaky floorboards and whisper snide comments. Sure, you’ll
lose a bit of money—and the respect of your neighbors.
