Some homes have magic

Why one place will make you go “ah”, and most will do no such thing

Jun 24, 2026

We are in the middle of a home search, and I have noticed something important.

In the last weeks, as I have seen hundreds of places, apartments, houses, and everything in between, I have noticed that only maybe 1 per cent of homes on offer have it. It being magic or charisma, something that makes your stomach or heart do a little jump.

It has little to do with price, luxury, or interior design effort. Some very small homes have it. Some places where only pigeons have lived for years have it. Houses that have not been redecorated since the 1950s have it. And sometimes, new homes have it too.

And many of the “best” homes do not have it. Many mansions do not have it. Many huge loft conversions with the most fantastical gadgets definitely do not have it. Places crafted fully out of glass with fantastical views do not have it.

Your subscription keeps the lights on in the Haus of Weis. Subscribe to get domestic insights into your inbox every other Wednesday.

Like what you see? Want to support Haus of Weis? Keep the writer caffeinated!

Buy me a coffee

So what does not make “it”?

I have gone through some theories, of course.

Maybe it is just beauty, moulded ceilings and light falling just right.

Maybe it is authenticity, original windows and hand-painted tiles.

Maybe it is perfection, where nothing is out of place.

Maybe it is attention and care, the feeling that someone has chosen the materials just right and planted the perfect shrubs in the garden.

Maybe it is the memory of lived live, that you can see life has happened in the home.

I don’t think any of this really explains it. Something falls between the cracks (of the floorboards) in all of these explanations.

And it’s not even just homes.

As I have been thinking about this, something else has appeared. This is not just a home question, it also applies to neighbourhoods in a city. Not just in the sense that some parts are nicer than others, but in the sense that some parts have it, the feeling of aliveness.

In Valencia, where we are, the shifts are abrupt. You cross a street and the magic of the city is gone. And I am not the only one saying this; everyone here knows exactly which streets we mean. Streets that might have identical houses and shops on both sides.

Then I realised I feel like this about objects too. I could look at two almost identical teapots, and only want to brew tea in one of them. I could have two equally comfortable chairs, but I only ever choose to sit in one. I could have two identical notebooks, but only one will end up filled with scribbles, to-do lists, and passwords.

What I think “it” is

This time, I can’t offer a full conclusion, only an opinion.

For me, magic is the opposite of predictability. It is created through surprise.

It is an edge, asymmetry, proportions that are a little off, views you did not expect, a room that is a slightly strange shape.

Out of the apartments that I have seen, the ones I have liked the most had: a funny built-in corner cabinet, an incredibly narrow hallway with original tiled floor, big corner windows, a column right in the middle of the living room, slightly shabby glazed double doors.

“It” is not perfection or optimisation. It is the opposite: the mistakes, the things that slow you down, the things that require more thinking and problem-solving.

Magic is not created in rooms that are easy to decorate or on city streets that are the cleanest. Magic does not live in a sensibly proportioned kitchen or in a park where every tree is planted in an exact row.

(personal examples follow)

This could be my personal neurosis. I do not want perfect nails. I do not wear perfectly ironed linen trousers. The people I love are beautiful, but never conventionally perfect. The second-hand objects I buy usually prompt the reaction: “what on earth is that?”

I have lived in some pretty quirky places before. My favourite homes have been the oddest ones. I was even born into a house that used to be a glassblower’s hot shop.

I like strange things, those that keep me guessing, and make my brain go, oh wait, what?

The simplest example I can give you is kitchens. The all-white, glossy kitchens with huge cabinets and nothing on show make me anxious. I do not want to hide all the appliances. I do not want to remove fingerprints from shiny surfaces all day.

I want wood surfaces and soft tiles. Appliances that do not all match or feel brand new. Space to leave things out. A kitchen where I can splash around without feeling like I am ruining something. The kind of kitchen I want to make shakshuka in on a Sunday morning (you know that sauce splatters a lot).

A little manifesto

I think this has become a bit of a personal hill to die on: the quiet crusade against optimisation.

I think we are slowly killing the magic by making everything too sensible, too functional.

We are building houses and entire neighbourhoods with no “wasted space”. We design playgrounds that look like CrossFit gyms, and park benches that are engineered so that nobody can lie down on them.

We renovate apartments so that there are no strange corridors, no nooks, no awkward corners. We optimise storage, streamline layouts, choose materials because they are easy to clean.

And somehow, it all starts to feel a little dead.

We have reached perfect functionality, so maybe we can now allow for some mistakes too.

And put more attention to pure silly loveliness.

Tip of the week: visit a place of magic

Take 10 minutes and go to a place you think has it. It could be your garden, a neighbourhood cafe, your grandmother’s house or your closest library. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just somewhere that makes you go ah.

Stay for a few minutes and think about what makes this place special for you.

Wishing you lots of love and light from the Haus of Weis, Aurinna

Your subscription keeps the lights on in the Haus of Weis. Subscribe to get domestic insights into your inbox every other Wednesday.