“The house is gone.”
I didn’t have to ask my partner twice what house he meant.
We had lived in a charming, post-war bungalow near Queen Elizabeth Park for almost eight years before our landlord decided to sell in 2011.
I loved that house. If we had a spare $2 million at the time, we would have purchased it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and instead we moved.
But I have to admit, after discovering this past weekend that it had finally been knocked down to make way for a new home, I shed a few tears over the loss of that tiny house and its well-worn hardwood floors, coved ceilings and much-loved heirloom roses planted by the original owner.
Since the house had remained standing for more than two years after we moved, I had unrealistically hoped the new owners actually purchased it to live in it. Of course, that was not the case.
When it went on the market in 2011, we learned first hand how out of control the city’s real estate market had become. We endured 14 open house and individual potential buyer visits.
When I discovered the home was listed on Craigslist I pretty much lost it and started tying our closets shut and taping the medicine cabinet closed. When I wrapped toilet paper around our toilet, the realtor asked me where these potential buyers were supposed to relieve themselves if not in our bathroom. I suggested his house.
- The following Sandra Thomas column was published in the Vancouver Courier in 2011. It details her experience living in a rental property in Vancouver’s over-inflated real estate market once the home was listed.
For $2 million, my home is yours to tear down
Aug. 10, 2011
By Sandra Thomas
You may have been in our house.
The cute little 1940s bungalow we’ve rented for the past seven years is for sale and in the past month the realtor has hosted three open houses. That means we have no idea who’s been walking on our hardwood, opening our cupboard doors or peeing in our toilet.
I knew the moment our home went from an exclusive listing to the Multiple Listing Service two weeks ago because that evening I heard voices and looked to find two men and a woman standing in our garden looking in the window.
Since then real estate-crazed trespassers have let themselves into our backyard through the side gate, walked across our lawn and flowers and snapped pictures of the house with the glee of paparazzi parked outside Mr. Chow.
The street in front of our home looks like a high-end car dealership with a constant parade of Mercedes, BMWs, Land Rovers, Jaguars, Lexus and Audis. We don’t even blink now when yet another $200,000 black Mercedes SLS stops in front of our home at 10 p.m. and the owner gets out to take pictures with their iPhone.
The first open house was as an exclusive listing — one realtor and almost 40 people came through. The second open house was for “realtors” and about 70 people dropped by, while an estimated 200 lookie loos were expected for the third open house this past Sunday.
It was this last open house that sent me over the top. Prior to vacating for four hours, I printed off signs that read: 'Please Remove your Shoes' for the front and back doors and 'Private' for our closets, which I also tied closed.
My thought is that if you have the cash to buy this home, I’ll show you my closet, but there is no reason on earth my neighbours or Craigslist followers should get a look at my shoes (or skeletons).
I also went completely over the top and wrapped toilet paper around our toilet because I decided no more strangers were going to pee in our home.
By this time my partner was beginning to look at me as if I’d lost it, which to be truthful was pretty much the case, but I promise that toilet paper will be coming out again this weekend when the realtor hosts the fourth and I hope final open house.
It seems to me the fact the house is going to be torn down makes an open house moot, but hey maybe that’s just me.
After witnessing first hand the extreme interest in this house I laughed out loud last week when I saw an article in the Vancouver Sun with the headline “More sales listings bring balance to market.”
We live in a 2,300-square-foot, $2-million teardown, which to me does not exactly scream “balance.” The article quotes Carol Frketich, regional economist for Canada Mortgage and Housing who says, “typically when prices move higher, listings do come on the market.”
According to the Real Estate Board of Greater Vancouver, that trend means a “calmer market” for realtors with fewer bidding wars… Seriously?
I always assumed if I lived in a $2 million home it would include a pool, and more importantly a pool boy, but that’s not the case. Instead our $2-million home offers well-kept hardwood floors, rounded ceilings and lovely heritage roses planted by the original owner.
In the seven years we’ve lived on our street, almost every one of the sweet little post-war bungalows on our block have been demolished and replaced with a 4,000-square-foot behemoth, which I know is the fate of our place.
All of our new neighbours are wealthy Asians, many whom I’ve never laid eyes on and just as many who seem slow to trust. But in the past year or so I’ve made some headway and I'm now on a first-name basis with two neighbours. Unfortunately, it’s just in time to say goodbye.
