Holding out for quality
WRITTEN BY:
Houzz Contributor. Former editor of The New York Times House & Home section
That incredibly inexpensive Parsons table you bought five years ago — how’s it looking now? It glowed with rakish country charm when you spotted it. And it was cheap, almost too cheap to believe. It had the style of an iconic piece of furniture, but the truth is, it hasn’t aged well, with peeling veneer and patches of fiberboard peeking through. Would you buy it again? Many are saying they would rather do without until they can afford something lasting.
“We eventually realized it’s better to do things slowly and invest in great pieces,” says Helen Howard, pictured with husband Johnse.
Americans have had a 15-year romance with inexpensive sideboards and ottomans, nightstands and valances. Prices for mid- to low-range furnishings fell as much as 40 percent in the late 1990s, as manufacturing moved from its traditional U.S. hubs to lower-wage elsewhere, says Warren Shoulberg, editorial director of retailer resources HFN and Home & Textiles Today. Plummeting prices were a gift to consumers who could now afford to renovate and furnish broad expanses of square footage in the condos and spec homes they bought with low-interest mortgages.
A kind of giddiness followed as high and low converged at the cash register. At least one major chain promoted itself as the go-to source for the kind of handsome but sensible goods for the masses that midcentury modernism had always promised but never quite delivered. Architect Michael Graves, interior decorator Thomas O’Brien and other signature designers produced collections for big-box outlets, proving that furnishings could be stylish and affordable. Knock-off versions of midcentury classics like the famous Tulip table by Eero Saarinen and the Barcelona chair by Mies van der Rohe became available at roughly half the normal price.
Now come signs that the romance of the cheap may be turning to fatigue. The pendulum appears to be swinging back to a new appreciation for quality and craftsmanship, even if it means higher prices. “Inexpensive furniture is like a gateway drug into the design world for most millennials,” says Helen Howard, who lives in a 1920s Craftsman in Berkeley, California, shown here. “We eventually realized it’s better to do things slowly and invest in great pieces.”
And when Jessica Schmid and her husband, Kevin, moved out of their Vancouver home in October, they left their old, inexpensive furnishings behind. “They looked nice,” she said, “but up close you could see how ratty they were.” For their new residence, a 1,500-square-foot floating home, they bought a $4,000 couch and invested in a built-in desk made from reclaimed barn wood. “I’m now picking things that last longer,” she says. “I’d rather pay the extra money.”
Americans have had a 15-year romance with inexpensive sideboards and ottomans, nightstands and valances. Prices for mid- to low-range furnishings fell as much as 40 percent in the late 1990s, as manufacturing moved from its traditional U.S. hubs to lower-wage elsewhere, says Warren Shoulberg, editorial director of retailer resources HFN and Home & Textiles Today. Plummeting prices were a gift to consumers who could now afford to renovate and furnish broad expanses of square footage in the condos and spec homes they bought with low-interest mortgages.
A kind of giddiness followed as high and low converged at the cash register. At least one major chain promoted itself as the go-to source for the kind of handsome but sensible goods for the masses that midcentury modernism had always promised but never quite delivered. Architect Michael Graves, interior decorator Thomas O’Brien and other signature designers produced collections for big-box outlets, proving that furnishings could be stylish and affordable. Knock-off versions of midcentury classics like the famous Tulip table by Eero Saarinen and the Barcelona chair by Mies van der Rohe became available at roughly half the normal price.
Now come signs that the romance of the cheap may be turning to fatigue. The pendulum appears to be swinging back to a new appreciation for quality and craftsmanship, even if it means higher prices. “Inexpensive furniture is like a gateway drug into the design world for most millennials,” says Helen Howard, who lives in a 1920s Craftsman in Berkeley, California, shown here. “We eventually realized it’s better to do things slowly and invest in great pieces.”
And when Jessica Schmid and her husband, Kevin, moved out of their Vancouver home in October, they left their old, inexpensive furnishings behind. “They looked nice,” she said, “but up close you could see how ratty they were.” For their new residence, a 1,500-square-foot floating home, they bought a $4,000 couch and invested in a built-in desk made from reclaimed barn wood. “I’m now picking things that last longer,” she says. “I’d rather pay the extra money.”
The change derives in part from a generational shift. Many baby boomers have already bought most of their furnishings. Millennials — roughly defined in 2016 as 20- to 35-year-olds — make up the majority of people getting married and setting up households. Raised on curated photos of homes filled with vintage, handmade and salvaged finds, many millennials are less accepting of particleboard, plastic laminates, spray dyes, factory machining and flimsy hardware.
“I made a conscious decision not to buy cheap furniture,” says Mitchell Pride of the converted loft in Seattle, shown here, that he moved into after graduate school.
“It took me several years to furnish. Friends would have to sit on dining room chairs. My goal was to get pieces that would be around for a while, things I really wanted and would not have to rebuy.”
“I made a conscious decision not to buy cheap furniture,” says Mitchell Pride of the converted loft in Seattle, shown here, that he moved into after graduate school.
“It took me several years to furnish. Friends would have to sit on dining room chairs. My goal was to get pieces that would be around for a while, things I really wanted and would not have to rebuy.”
“I prefer farmers markets and small, one-of-a-kind finds,” says Christine Minerva, pictured with husband Chris.
Millennials are a design-smart generation accustomed to seeking out homespun and handcrafted sources online, and critiquing one another’s amateur decorating in comment fields. “The millennials want their furnishings to be curated, and they’re willing to pay for it,” says HFN’s Shoulberg. “They want to know the back story before they make a purchase, just as they do with their clothing.”
And their food. “My parents are so stuck on big-box stores and chain restaurants,” says Christine Minerva, who lives in a Toronto loft, shown here. “I prefer farmers markets and small, one-of-a-kind finds. I might spend $5 on a baguette,” she says. “Our generation is going back to basics.”
And it’s not just the younger adults. Susan Doban, a New York architect with a sideline in product design and custom-built furniture, says her clients are generally more knowledgeable about what they want than they were just a few years ago. “By the time they come to me, they’ve spent a lot of time looking at Houzz, and they’ve drawn up idea boards,” she says. “It elevates their taste.” Among other things, she says, they gravitate to hardwoods and other traditional materials in reaction against the pervasive plastics and synthetics of phones and computers.
This move is driven by taste, but also economics. Wages in China have risen by an average of 12 percent a year since 2001, so the bargain factor is diminishing. “Wages are increasing,” Shoulberg says.
It isn’t that we no longer want inexpensive furnishings. People of all ages still want them to be modestly priced, but not so flimsy as to be disposable. “People are trying to find that line between affordable but keepable,” says Stephen Treffinger, a freelance writer with an emphasis on home products and tech — even if that means doing without for a while.
Millennials are a design-smart generation accustomed to seeking out homespun and handcrafted sources online, and critiquing one another’s amateur decorating in comment fields. “The millennials want their furnishings to be curated, and they’re willing to pay for it,” says HFN’s Shoulberg. “They want to know the back story before they make a purchase, just as they do with their clothing.”
And their food. “My parents are so stuck on big-box stores and chain restaurants,” says Christine Minerva, who lives in a Toronto loft, shown here. “I prefer farmers markets and small, one-of-a-kind finds. I might spend $5 on a baguette,” she says. “Our generation is going back to basics.”
And it’s not just the younger adults. Susan Doban, a New York architect with a sideline in product design and custom-built furniture, says her clients are generally more knowledgeable about what they want than they were just a few years ago. “By the time they come to me, they’ve spent a lot of time looking at Houzz, and they’ve drawn up idea boards,” she says. “It elevates their taste.” Among other things, she says, they gravitate to hardwoods and other traditional materials in reaction against the pervasive plastics and synthetics of phones and computers.
This move is driven by taste, but also economics. Wages in China have risen by an average of 12 percent a year since 2001, so the bargain factor is diminishing. “Wages are increasing,” Shoulberg says.
It isn’t that we no longer want inexpensive furnishings. People of all ages still want them to be modestly priced, but not so flimsy as to be disposable. “People are trying to find that line between affordable but keepable,” says Stephen Treffinger, a freelance writer with an emphasis on home products and tech — even if that means doing without for a while.
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