MicroMansions

I suppose that if the policy of building many large but virtually identical mansion-like structures in one area has come to be called McMansions, then the somewhat new policy of building splendid retirement homes with all of the posh and elegance that the former offered could well be called MicroMansions. And that's what I'm seeing in our local buildings offerings for what one article called 'boomer homes'. Which happens to be a phrase I despise.

The idea is apparently to merge two concepts: the Not So Big house, which should have a decent amount of elegance per square foot, but less square feet than the alternatives, and homes that allow you to get around in a walker or wheelchair -- while sacrificing none of the posh luxury that of course you deserve in retirement. I'm not sure what to call that, so I'll stick with MMs.

One company's web site shows photographs of their offerings, and I am amazed at how luxe they are. I don't know anyone who casually places a French provincial tray with delicate wine glasses and crisps on the artfully tossed covers of the bed, and I'm startled by a room that has windows reaching high into the cathedral ceiling, and furniture covered in rich fabric, but no dividing walls into the dining room and kitchen, no steps, and wide aisleways throughout. It is all very pretty, but in a way, it seems almost sad. I'm reminded of a film that was out when I was a teen, called Wild in the Streets, where the parents are reduced to denying their aging as time passes, using more and more artifice to do so. If my home is lavish enough, then I still matter, right? Even though I'm old?

Aging happens. Aging gracefully, in a graceful environment, is fine, even desirable. But it doesn't have to mean tarting up the house with elegance d'jour, or looting the stock fund to pay for it. Simple elegance comes from integral style, clean lines, warmth and function.

And, you know, a big screen TV with Bose stereo. Yowzah!