Friday, November 4, 2011

The Real Price of a New York Kitchen Renovation

(Hint: it's not in dollars)

If you have a passing acquaintance with your kitchen – meaning if you use your oven to bake salmon and not to store off-season handbags – then you’ve probably fantasized of a kitchen renovation.  Shiny new appliances, sturdy, roomy, clean cupboards, maybe more counterspace…these are the things of dreams. Ironically, I found out their implementation is a nightmare.

My own particular summer in hell included two months of living with a construction staging area in my living room, a food prep and dining area in my bedroom and debris everywhere. It starred a relapsed drug addicted contractor who lied about his skill set (we discovered this after the pipes broke, a cabinet face fell off, and a strange hissing sound began in the wall), lived on our couch for six weeks, and eventually lifted all the cash from my wallet while I slept.

I know I’m not the first to tell a horror story about a contractor or a renovation gone awry. But there are specific, easy – and not so easy – things you can do to avoid some of my pitfalls, and I consider it my duty to tell you them. So here goes:

Investigate Your Contractor:

Ask friends, friends of friends and neighbors for recommendations on contractors they’ve used. Read those last two words closely – THEY’VE USED -- not the new dude your friend is dating, or a nice guy they knew from high school. Contractors are notorious Jekyll and Hyde characters: they seem sweet and normal in social settings but turn crafty, lazy, greedy and mendacious on the job. So do your due dilligenc: check other references; ask to see photos of their work, licenses etc. Angie’s List is also a great resource and not very expensive to join. If I ever feel insane enough to reno again…that’s where I’m going first.

Set House Rules:

Large sweaty men with tools can be intimidating, but remember, it’s your apartment and you’re paying so you make the rules. Our rules included a daily wrap up of what had been accomplished and what was left to be done, a nightly reorganization of any building materials, a thorough weekly clean up of debris, and no food products in the reno garbage. You pay for the hauling of construction materials so why pay extra for stuff that can go in your apartment’s regular trash? And why stink up your staging area/living room with the stench of burger wrappers from Tuesday?

Be prepared…totally prepared:

Why does a four week project turn into a two-month week project? Because when you need a special electrical plate it may take your happy workers three hours to go to Home Depot to find it -- whether or not they stop to cop drugs. So before you swing the mighty hammer that launches your demolition, go through every step of the work and inventory what you need. If that fails and you happen to be around, go get it yourself – likely it will take less time.

Finally, trust your gut and nothing else:

When my contractor began missing important appointments, broke tiles, drilled holes in the wrong place and seemed generally “out of it,” we could’ve nipped upcoming future disasters in the bud, but we didn’t. My husband and I have known our share of drug addicts and liars so why did we believe him when he blamed others for his mistakes and depression meds for his fogginess…why didn’t we trust our instincts? Because we wanted to believe that we were in good hands and that everything would work out fine. We feared confronting a person in our employ and our social circle. And, we dreaded the prospect of stopping work midstream and searching for a new contractor. So instead we shelled out more money for “materials” that were undoubtedly spent on pills, got shoddy work that had to be redone, and eventually got ripped off and abandoned. Like it says on the subway: if you see something, say something!

In the end I must say that I love my new kitchen (below) – imperfect as it may be – and that I actually did a lot of things right.

And, if you want to know what those were let me know and I can post those as well.


Karen A.'s New Kitchen includes:
Viking Stove and Microwave, Liebherr refrigerator, Ikea cabinets, CaesarStone countertops, backsplash from Swann Tile, GE Profile dishwasher... and a small part of my soul.


Monday, October 31, 2011

The Last of a Dying Breed

I am the last of the Mohicans. Well, not the last…and not a Mohican either. But, I’ll tell you this, I am fast becoming an alien in my own land. Who am I? I am middle class and live Manhattan.

Have you seen me? I am the one with an actual shopping list moving efficiently through the aisles of Whole Foods. I am not lingering by the fancy cheeses holding the hand of my new lover. No, I am on a mission to provide food for my family and to do so at a relatively low cost.

I am unloading the trunk of a Zip car with my purchases from Ikea. I am spending time by the Hudson with my dog on a Sunday afternoon dressed in velour sweatpants and a great fleece zip up from Old Navy (when they actually made good stuff) --  not in J. Brand Jeans and a motorcycle jacket.

I don’t live paycheck to paycheck and I’m not in debt. I can afford to eat out at most restaurants. I can afford to buy new furniture now and then.  I have annuities and investments but I worry about my retirement and it’s more than 15 years off.

I don’t remember the last time I was in a limo. I don’t share a 1 bedroom apartment with 2 friends. I am middleclass.

If you are out there, if you are like me, I hope we can find each other and share what keeps us going, what keeps us living as a diminishing species in a harsh environment. The tips, the bargains, the respites from entitled 25-year olds barfing at your doorstep and recapture the magic of living in the greatest city in the world.

Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?