Property porn is the dirty little secret of today’s middle classes. And just as many women don’t understand the allure of prurient pictures of topless lasses (after all, they’re all the same, right?) the uninitiated don’t understand the pull of property. What primal urge causes seemingly rational people to lurk outside estate agents, shivering in the rain whilst peering through the window at house details? Not to mention all those late nights on the laptop behind closed doors, hunched over FindAProperty’s homepage, fantasising about houses well out of their league.
After a while, even photos of million-pound piles no longer satisfy our cravings and we turn to stronger stuff – the glossy magazines (delivered in all their naked, full-colour glory – whatever happened to discreet, blacked-out covers?) flaunting hedonistic habitats in the world's most desirable destinations.
But where does our appetite for property peeping get us? Just as the pneumatic breasts of porn starlets grow increasingly removed from reality, so the ever-more-opulent homes of the rich cause us to feel (admit it!) slightly ashamed of our own humble abodes.
We're just not satisfied with 'Home Sweet Home' these days. We want the wow factor, especially when we’re convinced the Joneses have a bigger telly, a more sumptuous sofa, a more extravagant window treatment. We yearn for the castle of the oligarch, with its de rigueur home cinema, spa, gym and state-of-the-art bells and whistles. Men in particular seem unable to resist the thrill of boys' toys, from 'intelligent home' controls and mood lighting to supersized plasma screens for every room, even the bath (so much for quick, eco-friendly showers; I sense a prolonged and steamy soak may be required).
Today’s obscenely extravagant villa shamelessly flaunts its excesses: indoor squash court and climbing wall, air conditioning, lift, even a car lift for its stacked garage. Top architects will happily fashion a slide from master suite direct to the heated indoor pool – complete with underwater sound system, natch. (Just mind your mini-mes don’t scurry up the slide when you’re least expecting visitors).
We no longer think such things gauche or vulgar. Bring on the gold taps with hot and cold running champagne! Temperance and frugality are yesterday's virtues, today's vices. "I'll have what she's having!" we cry (even if we have to settle for the slightly less lavish model). We're all conditioned to crave the 'luxury lifestyle experience' promised by the homes of the future.
Today, 'kitchenistas' hanker after the hottest new cookers, American-sized fridges dispensing ice and water (still or sparkling?) and never-knew-we-needed-it gadgets (such as the Reveo MariVac Food Tumbler for last-minute marinating!) in this season's colours and finishes (glossy red is so last month).
Of course if your furnishings are fashionable, then it follows they'll be unfashionable soon enough, and you'll be tempted to rip everything out and start afresh (just as those savvy manufacturers planned, go figure). As someone whose childhood home boasted an avocado kitchen (and bathroom) I always advise choosing neutral appliances and cupboards (especially white) that can last throughout the years with minor 'updates': a lick of paint or new tea towels, neither costing the earth.
I can understand the allure of decadent digs, especially a blissfully luxurious bathroom. When I was a teenager, I stumbled across some adult-oriented material – seductive brochures filled with swanky home spas promising an out-of-this-world experience: the intense desert-like heat of the sauna followed by hydro massage, a refreshing tropical rain shower and 'cooling Chinook winds'. Like many a teen, I developed a rather unhealthy relationship with the illicit material, stealing downstairs to pore over the pages, imagining a future where that sort of sordid, steamy experience would be part of my everyday reality.
I can even empathise with the hunger for a home cinema, more so after a recent night out to see The Bourne Ultimatum – after a technical glitch halfway through we were all sent home
unsatisfied. But I've always had qualms about home film libraries: after all, how many times do you really need to watch Meet the Fockers? With a home cinema installed, would one ever again read a book?
And who can promise that a hedonistic home is a happy home? I recently toured a modern mansion complete with home cinema (21 heated seats), games room and all the latest gizmos. The owner was obviously proud, but afterwards confessed to a deep and prolonged depression, despite having every material thing a fairy godmother (or in this case, fairy godfather) could bestow. Perhaps it's time to consider whether instant gratification is really gratifying. Expensive luxuries often come at a higher cost than what's shown on the tag, in terms of working hours v family life and an increasing burden of debt. More and more families are tempted to stretch to impossible bank repayments and repossessions are mounting.
And what of one’s carbon footprint? If these plugged-in and clued-up houses are going to be carbon-neutral, they better get some great whacking windmills on the roof pronto. Eco hero Orlando Bloom is being applauded for his new green house in London – complete with solar panels – but he’s also bought a four-bedroom Hollywood house with a ‘waterfall pool’ and hot tub. Even if that hot tub is solar-powered, how sustainable is a second, third, fourth home anyway? Especially if it's 6000 miles away?
Where will it all end? Perhaps down the pan. Japanese toilet manufacturer Toto’s Neorest offers ‘an experience beyond words' and 'sophisticated sensuality' with a lid that automatically opens and shuts, a heated seat, front and back-aerated warm water spray, with ‘oscillating and pulsing comfort washing’, a warm air dryer and an air purifier (so your faeces really doesn't stink).
Oooh I just got my hot little hands on today’s Evening Standard
Homes & Property (my weekly fix of property porn) only to read that Vernon and Tess have bought a holiday home in New Zealand and the Caribbean's being tipped as the perfect place for UK buyers. We’re all doomed, aren’t we?
Just as we're using up the last of our planet's resources, some scientists are suggesting we search for another habitable habitat. They've even found a potential candidate, a 'Goldilocks' planet (not too hot, not too cold) only 20.5 light-years away (one light-year is approx 5.9 trillion miles). If it all works out, just imagine the property pages – not to mention the prices.
Lately I've been craving some extra space. I am really lusting after a loft, but I'm trying to control my desires. Maybe I could justify it if I added a solar panel in the process – or should I just lie back and think of the planet?
