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Throughout its 250-year history, the US has produced some striking and unique architecture that you can't find anywhere else — and lots of it can look wildly different across state lines.
Defining what we consider "coolest" is hard. We evaluated every state on its own terms and found that the architecture across all 50 states and Washington, DC, can be as diverse as the country's population.
In states like California and Massachusetts, picking the most striking building meant finding ones that look futuristic and elegant, like something out of a science-fiction movie. In other states, like Maine and the Carolinas, we found that the coolest buildings are distinctive because of their place in history or their states' cultures.
Whether you're looking for a piece of history or a glimpse into the future, these buildings can show you what different worlds look like.
James Grebey and Jacob Shamsian contributed to an earlier version of this story.
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The Gulf, Mobile, and Ohio Passenger Terminal in Mobile, Alabama, which has Spanish influences with its cream walls and red clay tiles, was designed by P. Thornton Marye. It was completed in 1907 and has undergone restoration since passenger train service ceased in the 1950s.
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The University of Alaska Museum of the North is home to numerous exhibits showcasing the native cultures, natural wonders, and wildlife of our nation's largest state. It's also a stylish refuge from the cold.
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The Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona was completed in 1956, and it juts majestically from a red stone butte, some 200 feet above the ground.
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The beautiful Thorncrown Chapel in Eureka Springs looks like an open-air structure, but it's actually a serene, glass-enclosed architectural marvel.
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It was designed in 1960, but the Chemosphere still looks futuristic. It's a house with 2,200 square feet of space, perched atop a 30-foot concrete pole. And it's survived every major Californian earthquake in the San Fernando Valley since it was built.
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Mesa Verde National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, features some of the best-preserved prehistoric landscapes of the Ancestral Puebloan people. These ancient dwellings, where the Ancestral Puebloans once lived, were constructed on the sides of natural cliffs.
While most dwellings had only one to five rooms, the Cliff Palace, the largest known cliff dwelling in North America, had 150 rooms, 23 sacred meeting spaces, and housed about 100 people, according to the National Park Service.
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The main feature of Grace Farms in New Canaan is a serpentine wooden pavilion that links glass-walled rooms, including a library, stage, tea room, and a gym with a full basketball court. Completed in 2015, it's open to the public for free.
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The country's oldest state has some classic buildings that stand the test of time. Wilmington's Grand Opera House, built in 1871, is as classic as it gets.
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The Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg is a fittingly unique tribute to the beloved master of surrealism. The museum boasts the largest collection of Dalí's work outside Europe.
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This might not look much like other buildings in this list, but the Ocmulgee Mounds National Park's Earth Lodge dates back to the year 1015, per the National Park Service.
The lodge is a reconstructed council chamber of the native Mississippian culture. While the walls and ceiling were reconstructed in the late 1930s, the clay floor remains the same as the original, dating back over a thousand years.
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ʻIolani Palace in Honolulu is the only royal palace on United States soil. David Kalākaua, the last reigning king of Hawaiʻi and the first monarch to travel around the world, was inspired by the European palaces he saw during his 1881 voyage.
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The Dog Bark Park Inn in Cottonwood is a delightful piece of American kitsch. The bed and breakfast is shaped like two charming beagles.
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Although there are between 5 and 6 million adherents to the Bahá'í Faith, there are only eight continental houses of worship worldwide. The one in Wilmette, Illinois, is the oldest still standing, and the only one in the United States.
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When the West Baden Springs Hotel opened in 1902, it was billed as the Eighth Wonder of the World. While enjoying the view from inside the massive domed atrium — at one point the largest in the world — it's easy to see why.
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Father Paul Dobberstein promised to build a shrine to the Virgin Mary as she helped cure his grave case of pneumonia. His resulting Grotto of the Redemption in West Bend is made of rocks, shells, fossils, and gems pressed into concrete. It's the size of a football field.
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The Big Well in Greensburg is a museum that rests atop its titular main attraction: the largest hand-dug well in the world, spanning 32 feet in diameter and reaching a depth of 109 feet.
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Churchill Downs, most famously the host of the Kentucky Derby, can hold 120,000 excited, sometimes rowdy, racing fans at max capacity.
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The Pontalba Buildings, which make up two sides of New Orleans' Jackson Square, are emblematic of the French Quarter. Some of the residences on the upper floors are believed to be the oldest continuously rented apartments in the country.
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The Portland Head Light — one of the state's many lighthouses — has been around since 1791. It was built under the directive of George Washington himself.
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The American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore showcases outsider art. All the works within its wonky exterior were made by inspired, self-taught creators.
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Simmons Hall at MIT is the coolest dorm building in the US. It looks like a monstrous Tetris piece combined with underground caverns.
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The museum, one of the oldest and largest dedicated to African American history, is a three-story building designed with influences of African and local Detroit architecture. The building features a stunning 55-foot-tall glass dome ceiling.
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The Marjorie McNeely Conservatory at Saint Paul's Como Park was opened to the public in 1915 and features Japanese, Bonsai, and butterfly gardens, among others.
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Designed by Frank Gehry — whose striking work also includes the Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris, the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, and the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao in Spain — the curved metal pods, which house pottery at Biloxi's Ohr-O'Keefe Museum of Art, are meant to look as if they were "dancing with the trees," per the museum's website.
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The parking garage at the Kansas City Library is called the Community Bookshelf. It displays the giant spines of 22 classic books that were suggested by Kansas City readers.
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Construction started on the Montana State Capitol in 1896. The inside of the rotunda salutes four types of people central to the state's early history: a native American, an explorer, a gold miner, and a cowboy.
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The Nebraska Capitol in Lincoln is one of the greatest state capitol buildings in the US. Built between 1922 and 1932, the building features artworks representing the development of law and the state of Nebraska.
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The Ward Charcoal Ovens in Ely were built in the 1870s for silver mining.
The distinctive beehive-shaped Ward Charcoal Ovens in Ely were built for silver mining back in the 1870s, and they still look like nothing else on the landscape.
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Built in 1902, the Mount Washington Hotel — today operating as the Omni Mount Washington Resort — is one of the last remaining grand hotels in the state, and is rumored to be haunted.
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Nassau Hall is the oldest building at Princeton University, dating back to the 1750s. While it now houses the school's administrative offices, during the Revolutionary War it was occupied by both British and American forces and suffered damage during the battles.
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Hundreds of years old, the Taos Pueblo is a multi-story complex built by Native Americans from the region. It looks like one big, molded piece, and it's still used as a residence.
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The Empire State Building gets all the hype, but it's the Chrysler Building that's really the most magnificent skyscraper in New York City. The Art Deco-style building was the tallest in the world when it was built, but it was beaten out by — you guessed it — the Empire State Building just 11 months later.
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North Carolina's Executive Mansion in Raleigh is the home of the governor.
Give it to North Carolina for having its most beautiful building designated as a civil landmark. The state's Executive Mansion in Raleigh is the home of the governor and a high-profile event venue that's open to public tours.
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At the center of the North Dakota Heritage Center in Bismarck is a great glass cube flanked by two copper-colored wings. It's the home of the state's greatest treasures, including Native American historical artifacts and lots of dinosaur fossils.
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The Longaberger Company, which makes baskets, made a building in Newark that perfectly matches its brand. The building was closed in 2016, and it has largely sat idle since.
Plans for the property have included a hotel, a coworking space, and, most recently, a mixed-use development, but it still has an unclear path for the future.
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The First Americans Museum's 175,000-square-foot building in Oklahoma pays homage to the state's indigenous populations and their history. The design is inspired by the importance placed on the rising and setting sun by Native populations, with the Remembrance Walls being aligned with the sunrise.
The central half-dome is supported by 10 pillars of various stones, each representing a 10-mile stretch traveled by Native people during forced removal from their original homelands, according to the museum's website.
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In 2009, Travel + Leisure famously called The Portland Building "one of the most hated buildings in America," and its reputation is split among architecture critics. But its shapes, strange geometric clashes of glass and stone, make it the weird building that Portland most deserves.
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Frank Lloyd Wright's 1935 masterpiece Fallingwater remains Pennsylvania's greatest work of architecture. Water falls from each level of the building into the one below, perfectly integrating with the landscape.
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Built as a summer residence for Cornelius Vanderbilt II, The Breakers mansion in Newport has 70 rooms across 138,300 square feet, making it one of the largest houses in the US and an icon of Gilded Age architecture.
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In South Carolina, the International African American Museum stands on top of 18 13-foot pillars that keep the museum from touching the sacred ground on which it was built.
The museum is situated on the historic site of Gadsden's Wharf in Charleston's Cooper River, which was the last and most significant disembarkation point in North America for enslaved Africans during the transatlantic slave trade, per the US Civil Rights Trail website.
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The walls of the Corn Palace in Mitchell are adorned with complex murals and art that's all been made out of, you guessed it, corn. The design changes every year.
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Built in 1897 for the Tennessee Centennial Exposition — and then reconstructed between 1921 and 1930 — the Parthenon in Centennial Park is a full-sized replica of the Parthenon in Athens, Greece. Today, it's open to the public as an art museum.
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Designed by renowned artist James Turrell, the "Twilight Epiphany" Skyspace in Houston is a performance space that makes you feel as though you've entered another dimension.
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The Natural History Museum of Utah in Salt Lake City looks like it could have been carved out of the landscape. It was designed by Todd Schliemann of Ennead Architects.
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The Old Round Church in Richmond is technically a 16-sided polygon, but it's still enough of a circle to lend credence to a rumor that it was built in that shape so that the Devil had no corners to hide in.
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If they're done wrong, airports can be the most insufferable place to spend a few hours. But we have to admire Virginia's Dulles International Airport, which almost looks like a futuristic aircraft itself.
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Forget the idea of a dusty old home for books nobody reads. The Seattle Central Library is a miracle of modern architecture.
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The United States Capitol is such a mainstay of nightly news and political pop culture that it's easy to take for granted. It's nice to step back once in a while and take in the grandeur and historical significance of this government building that reflects on America's complicated past.
Construction on the Capitol began in September 1793, and much of the structure was built by enslaved workers working alongside free Black and white laborers, per the White House Historical Association. In 2012, a marker was added to the Capitol Visitor Center commemorating the unpaid labor of enslaved people who built the nation's Capitol.
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The Palace of Gold is a majestic memorial shrine located in the Hare Krishna community of New Vrindaban.
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The most striking feature of the Milwaukee Art Museum is the Burke Brise Soleil, a towering sunscreen with a 217-foot wingspan. It folds and unfolds twice a day.
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This wacky-looking building is in the middle of the remote Wapiti Valley. In 1971, architect Francis Lee Smith started building the structure by hand as his and his family's home. After completing the first floor in 1973, he could not stop building. He died after falling from one of the balconies in 1992.
Maria Polansky
I first fell in love with the idea of Europe when I was 14.
My mom and I went on a trip to Russia to visit relatives, and Moscow won me over with its grand boulevards and trendy cafés. We also stopped in London, where we explored the city's central neighborhoods and shopped in stores I'd only read about in fashion magazines back home.
I was amazed by everything. I was convinced Europe was better — more aesthetically pleasing, more interesting — than my hometown of Vancouver, and vowed to go back as often as I could.
By my early 20s, I was traveling to Europe almost every summer. My sister had moved to France, so I had a great excuse to visit: I'd stay with her in Paris and later Toulouse, and I'd also check out other destinations like Spain and Italy when I could.
I became more enamored with the continent with each trip. Like so many North Americans, I considered it somewhat of a utopia where the overall lifestyle is healthier, the food is more delicious, and everything is more beautiful.
Maria Polansky
In 2018, at age 26, I met and fell in love with a Brit who was living in Vancouver. When his Canadian working-holiday visa expired, we started a long-distance relationship — and I applied for a British visa so we could be together.
After years of romanticizing the continent on vacations, my dream was finally coming true. I moved to Birmingham and got a UK-based job.
My first year there was great. I loved being surrounded by historic architecture, feeling comfortable dressing up in fancier clothes, and knowing that countries like Spain, Italy, and Greece were just a quick flight away.
But eventually, the novelty started wearing off. Things I initially found so charming became mundane after a few years. The old buildings blurred into the background of my daily commute, and I never quite adjusted to certain cultural differences, like the Brits' less direct communication style.
I also started to miss the things I took for granted back home, like easy access to the ocean and mountains. Back in Vancouver, I used to spend weekends at the beach or hiking, and though these activities were possible in the UK, they were more difficult from my inland location.
Plus, although some things were more affordable — like groceries — others, like transportation fees, weren't. I was also getting paid a lower salary for the same job I was doing back home.
Even the travel benefits weren't as cut-and-dried as I'd expected. Yes, I was close to the rest of Europe, but farther from plenty of other destinations. In Vancouver, I could easily hop on a flight to Mexico to escape the winter blues.
My husband and I traveled to the Canary Islands a few times from the UK, and they were stunning — but in my opinion, they just couldn't compare to the soft white sand and warm azure waters of the Riviera Maya.
In 2021, I visited Canada for the first time since moving, and started to see everything from a different perspective. I had a newfound appreciation for the rugged natural beauty around me and the laidback coastal lifestyle.
Once I got back to the UK, I started to realize just how much my Pacific Northwest upbringing had influenced my lifestyle preferences. I realized I'd rather be surrounded by the ocean, mountains, and forests than historic buildings.
As someone with a multicultural background, I also felt homesick for my Canadian hometown's diversity. I really felt like my community back home was shaped by immigrants, and cultural traditions there felt less uniform.
After our second trip back to Canada in 2022, my husband started to sense just how homesick I was. We agreed to move back the following year — though we chose to go to nearby Victoria instead of Vancouver, as we preferred the more relaxed vibe of a smaller city.
Maria Polansky
We've now been back in Canada for just over three years, and it feels like the perfect place for us right now.
Despite everything, I don't regret my move to the UK. I fulfilled my adolescent dream, and I know that if I hadn't taken the opportunity, I'd have always wondered what my life could have been like there.
Those five years also gave me a better appreciation for where I am now. Sure, there are things I miss about living in the UK, like the multitude of dog-friendly pubs and British chocolate. But as someone who prefers a more nature-oriented life, I know Southwest British Columbia is the right home for me.
Still, I'll never say no to another trip back across the pond.
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As a real-estate agent who works with buyers looking for luxury homes, I know how easy it is to get swept up in a beautiful property.
But after nearly three years in the industry, I like to remind my clients that a higher price tag doesn't automatically make a house a better investment — or mean there aren't problems hiding beneath the surface.
Some of the biggest concerns I notice aren't necessarily the things that stand out during a first showing. They're often in the details — like the quality behind the renovation, the home's location, and its history on the market.
These are the five red flags I always recommend my clients watch for before making an offer.
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A home may look spectacular online, but sometimes, once you walk through the door and look under the hood, it isn't what it appeared to be in the listing photos. I jokingly call it "lipstick on a pig."
Before making an offer, buyers should understand what they're actually getting, beyond gorgeous photos and expensive-looking finishes.
I like to look more closely at things like the cabinetry and hardware, flooring, countertops, stonework, fixtures, and overall quality of workmanship.
One of the easiest places to spot a lower-quality renovation is the cabinetry — specifically, whether the joints are properly fitted, the drawers glide smoothly, and the cabinet doors align. I also look out for things like uneven tilework, inconsistent grout lines, poorly installed flooring, and gaps around the cabinets or trim.
To me, the biggest concern is whether the renovation will hold up over time. If the materials and workmanship aren't up to par, buyers could end up repairing or replacing finishes far sooner than expected.
When you're paying for a luxury home, you want to know you're investing in quality that will last, not just an aesthetic that looks good in listing photos.
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Everyone has heard the term "location, location, location," and there's a reason for that. Almost anything about a home can be renovated or changed — its location can't.
I always tell buyers not to overlook things like road noise, backing to a busy street, an undesirable lot position, or other location factors simply because they love the house.
Those things may not bother you personally, but they could narrow your buyer pool significantly when it comes time to sell.
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Seeing a high days-on-market number — the amount of time the property has been actively listed — isn't inherently detrimental, but it's important to understand why a house hasn't been able to sell.
A question I often get from clients is, "How many days on market is considered too many?" The reality is that there isn't a single magic number, as it depends on the area, the specific neighborhood, and the price point.
Just because a home has been on the market for an extended period doesn't necessarily mean there is something wrong with the property. It could be road noise, a less desirable location, or simply a matter of pricing. However, I've seen instances where issues were uncovered during inspections, causing buyers to walk away.
Regardless of the reason, I always look at the listing history, previous price reductions, and comparable sales in the area to get a better picture of what's going on.
I'm also not afraid to ask the seller's agent point-blank what the issue has been. All of that information helps me decide how my clients and I should approach and structure an offer.
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Even a picture-perfect home listed for millions of dollars can have an aging HVAC system, roof issues, water damage, plumbing concerns, or other costly problems that aren't obvious during a showing.
That's why inspections are so important. If an inspection reveals that an HVAC system needs to be replaced, that's a significant expense the buyer may not have anticipated when making their original offer.
I always remind my clients that the inspection period is still very much a negotiation period. The key is knowing which issues are worth negotiating, and being strategic about what you ask for.
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If a listing agent tells me their seller put $300,000 into a home's renovation, that doesn't automatically mean it's worth $300,000 more.
A seller may have spent a significant amount on finishes or design choices they personally loved, but that doesn't necessarily mean the next buyer will place the same value on them.
I think it's important for buyers to separate what someone spent on a home from what the market supports.
High-quality improvements absolutely matter, but ultimately, I don't think a buyer should pay a premium simply because a seller spent a lot of money.
Lindsey Galloway
Every weekend, my partner makes the best breakfast: over-medium eggs, handmade tortillas, and fresh hash browns.
We often eat outside thanks to Colorado's bright, sunny days, then we'll walk around the lake, watch some football, and spend the evening roasting marshmallows over the fire pit.
Then, when Sunday night arrives, I get in my car and drive the 45 minutes back to my dream condo to get ready for the week ahead.
My partner and I met at work 13 years ago, and we intend to spend the rest of our lives together, but we still live apart. We know each other's rhythms, quirks, and needs, and have no secrets, just separate addresses.
I often joke that we're in a "middle-distance" relationship. At least we're in the same state, but it's also not always easy or convenient to drop by for dinner.
Both of us are divorced, and we both love the houses we have.
My partner lives in rural northeastern Colorado and bought his home after his divorce. It's bigger than mine, with a huge yard and a custom-designed patio built for entertaining.
His neighborhood isn't exactly walkable, but he's originally from a small town in Texas, so he doesn't mind driving longer distances to get to places he wants to go.
Meanwhile, after my divorce, I moved back into the Boulder condo I had been renting out while married. My unit is smaller than my partner's, but I love its mountain views and proximity to all my favorite places, like my go-to local bakery.
It needed a lot of work when I moved back in, but I invested in new paint and flooring to really make it mine again.
I want to stay close to Boulder, and he wants a big house. The tight, expensive housing market has made it tough to find a new place we both love.
Though we've toured many houses together over the last six months, we haven't been impressed by any of them enough to leave the places we've already made our own.
Lindsey Galloway
One thing that has made this arrangement easier is that we're used to living out of our suitcases. I'm a professional travel writer, and he works for a company based on the East Coast. We also love to explore new places together whenever we can.
When we are both home in Colorado, we've found a routine that has worked pretty well for us. My partner often spends some weeknights here, where we're close to restaurants, friends, walkable downtown Boulder, and other things to do after work.
Then, I'll go up to his house for quiet, relaxed weekends, and to watch my favorite team on the 100-inch screen (go Raiders!). We also tend to entertain at his bigger house.
Both of us get bored easily, so having a change of scenery and routine keeps life feeling fresh. My 14-year-old pug has adapted, too, and travels with me between places.
To make things easier, I've bought duplicates of staples like deodorant and an electric toothbrush, so I'm not schlepping them (or forgetting them!) every weekend.
That said, there are challenging things about our setup. Packing up every few days can be a hassle, and it can be stressful to land at the airport and decide which house to go to, especially when I miss both my partner and the feeling of being "home."
We always make an effort to overcommunicate our plans and extend understanding whenever one of us just needs to get home to do a load of laundry.
Lindsey Galloway
Every day, I'm scrolling listings that meet both our picky criteria and calling up agents for showings, but so far, we haven't loved anything as much as our current homes.
It sounds frustrating, but we both think this is a pretty good problem to have: It gives us more leverage in the homebuying process and means we don't have to settle for something that is only half-right or makes just one of us happy.
We're confident that we'll find a home that fits us both, but in the meantime, navigating the middle-distance has only made our relationship stronger.
Yaritza Betancourt
7:30 p.m. marks the start of my son's bedtime routine.
First, I pull out our pillows and bedding from under the chaise sofa bed, which I share with my son.
Once our makeshift bed is set, I close the curtains separating it from the rest of the one-bedroom apartment. The tiny living room becomes our private oasis.
I can almost forget we're at my mom's place, sleeping on a convertible sofa she'd originally bought for our annual visits, while my 6-foot-3 husband sleeps on his own air mattress on the ground right next to us.
Yaritza Betancourt
Squeezing into my mom's small Boston apartment was never the plan.
Right after I graduated from college, I had moved to California to chase my Hollywood dreams of becoming an actor. During my two decades of living on the West Coast, I met my husband, got married, and became a stay-at-home mom.
However, our lives were turned upside down in 2025 when my husband lost his job. For the first time, we really started thinking about moving to Boston, where I had grown up and my family still lived.
I figured it would give us more flexibility with childcare, and a fresh start in a new city might be what we needed.
When I called my mom to tell her about our plans, she was thrilled. She'd been telling us to move to Boston for years, and said we could stay with her in her one-bedroom apartment until we found a new place.
So, we booked one-way tickets to Logan Airport and moved in with my mom.
Yaritza Betancourt
Arriving in Boston was exciting, but the transition to sharing a one-bedroom apartment was trying — we took over the entire living room. The room became cluttered, with our clothes and suitcases spilling into the hallway.
My mom expressed concern about the mess, so we rented a nearby storage unit for most of our belongings. Still, though, the things we need daily seem to take up a lot of space.
Yaritza Betancourt
Sharing a one-bedroom apartment required an adjustment not just for us, but for her too.
For example, my son's early bedtime closes the living room off to my mom's nightly TV watching. Honestly, it still feels awkward to kick my mom out of her own living room because I have to put my toddler to sleep.
Yaritza Betancourt
Plus, my mom is an early riser, often getting up at 6:30 a.m. to clean and run errands.
I can hear the sounds of domestic life filtering through the curtains that separate our "room" from the rest of the home. Cupboards opening, dishes being put away, and the smell of morning coffee lingering in the air like a wake-up call.
When tension rises because of our conflicting schedules and differing routines, I've learned to take a breather and step outside with my son to go for a walk or a drive. It often helps to ease the tension and remember this arrangement is only temporary.
However, it's also nice having my mom's support, and my son has gotten to know his abuela in ways that wouldn't have been possible from across the country. She watches him while I take a shower and go to in-person or Zoom job interviews.
Every night, while I'm getting the living room ready for bedtime, he goes into her room and cuddles up next to her while she watches TV.
Yaritza Betancourt
At first, being back at my mom's house after so many years of independence honestly made me feel like I somehow failed at life. By 40, I thought I'd have a successful career and a home of my own.
Now, though, it's been seven months since we arrived in Boston, and honestly? We're thriving. My husband found work, my son loves his preschool, and I've been able to focus on my career aspirations.
What I've learned through this whole process is that it's OK to lean on family when necessary, and even though we're still hoping to get our own place sooner rather than later, I know moving back to Boston was the right decision for me and my family.
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While many Americans are sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the real-estate market to become more affordable, ultrawealthy buyers are still snapping up homes.
Sotheby's International Realty's 2026 Mid-Year luxury outlook survey found that 55% of its real-estate affiliated professionals worldwide who specialize in properties priced at $10 million and above saw an increase in luxury homebuyers in their local markets over the previous 12 months. Respondents also said they expect strong demand for the remainder of 2026.
"The affluent remain engaged and confident in the luxury housing market. They are deliberate but not deterred," Philip A. White Jr., president and CEO of Sotheby's International Realty, said in the brokerage's report.
Here are four trends gaining traction among ultrawealthy homebuyers according to Sotheby's report, from a revival in San Francisco's real estate market to a growing demand for homes that allow buyers to age in place.
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Americans are increasingly focusing on health and wellness, transforming not only how they live but also what they want in their homes.
Sotheby's International Realty found that luxury buyers — many of whom already invest in products and routines that help them stay healthy — are less likely to downsize or move into senior housing. Instead, they are opting to buy homes that better allow them to age in place.
Sotheby's International Realty's survey shows that nearly 40% of real estate professionals said aging in place is a growing priority among homebuyers.
"Increasing life expectancy, coupled with affluent homebuyers' desire to 'age in place,' is reshaping everything from home design and location choice to how inventory circulates in prime real estate markets," Tammy Fahmi, senior vice president of global servicing and strategy at Sotheby's International Realty, said in the report.
For luxury buyers, a home's ability to support a high quality of life is a top priority. Sotheby's found that they want spa-like amenities, including saunas, cold plunges, and red-light therapy; advanced air and water filtration, and easy access to the outdoors through nearby hiking or walking trails. Those who can afford it are also interested in integrated health-monitoring technology or in-home staff.
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While home sales are still down across the country, Sotheby's International Realty's report suggests that the luxury end of the real-estate market is doing well.
"There's a little more inventory that has helped keep that property market moving," Lawrence Yun, chief economist and senior vice president of research at the National Association of Realtors, said in Sotheby's report. "The stock market has helped, plus the ability of upper-end homebuyers to pay with cash and not be concerned about mortgage rates."
In the US, several markets continue to attract luxury buyers, especially Miami. In recent years, celebrities and billionaires, including Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, have purchased multimillion-dollar homes in the Miami area.
"The ultra-luxury property market in Miami is on particularly solid ground," Yun said. "They had a little oversupply, but with their infrastructure development and new luxury condominium construction, it's becoming an even bigger city."
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Global uncertainty is prompting many people to reconsider both where they invest their money and where they live. For ultra-high net worth individuals, that often means looking to cities that offer stability and greater value.
Among those places, Milan is becoming an increasingly attractive destination for luxury homebuyers, according to a Sotheby's report.
Milan's appeal is also tied to Italy's tax incentives and residency-by-investment program, which provides access to the Schengen Area, which includes countries such as the Netherlands, Spain, Sweden, Portugal, and Greece.
"That has attracted a lot of ultra-high-net-worth individuals," Diletta Giorgolo, a global real estate advisor at Italy Sotheby's International Realty, said in the report. "More people were coming to Italy for not only residency, but their fiscal regime. We were always used to international buyers, but they came for second homes. The big difference is that now many are buying primary homes."
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As the AI industry booms in the Bay Area, younger affluent buyers who left for cities like New York and Los Angeles are being drawn back by job opportunities.
"San Francisco thrives on innovation and new technology, and now the AI boom is real," Alex Hachiya, a San Francisco-based senior global real estate advisor at Sotheby's International Realty, said in Sotheby's report. "Wealth flooded back into the city in 2025, and we saw 84% more sales of homes priced at $7.5 million and up that year, compared to 2024."
Hachiya said it is typical for younger luxury buyers, many of whom work in tech, are entrepreneurs, or come from family wealth, to buy homes in San Francisco before later purchasing a second property in the suburbs, where they plan to raise their children.
He added that when it comes to homes, these buyers want move-in-ready homes with flexible living spaces and walkable neighborhoods.
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In my years working in interior design, I've had many clients approach me looking for definitive "rules" for decorating their homes.
They want to know how to make their home look good and function better, assuming there is a set of guidelines to help them get there.
Certainly, there are building codes, safety requirements, and circulation considerations that must be met. However, much of what we think of as design and decorating is guided by rules of thumb, best practices, and even cultural assumptions.
The longer I practice design — over 20 years now — the more I learn that there are very few set rules to follow. Although some can be a good starting place, they often overlook the people who actually live in the space we're designing.
Here are a few design "rules" I think are worth breaking and why.
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Open any shelter magazine, and you will likely see open shelving as a prominent kitchen feature.
Open shelving is beautiful, often breaking up a wall of cabinetry, making a kitchen feel lighter and more open while creating a place to display dishes, glassware, cookbooks, or other collected personal effects.
Although I, too, am drawn to open shelves, I question whether it's the right choice for every client. Those beautifully styled shelves require you to decide what stays visible, keep some degree of order, and deal with more dust and kitchen grime.
For some people, that's no problem — or even enjoyable. For others, it's one more thing to maintain.
Before my clients make this design choice, we talk through what would actually live on those shelves and whether they want the responsibility of keeping them looking the way they imagine.
After all, a trend can show you a new possibility, but it can't tell you whether that possibility fits your life.
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I have many clients who make this assumption: If my home has a traditional architectural character, my new kitchen or bathroom must also have more traditional elements — think Shaker cabinetry, crown molding, and bronzy hardware.
Although I agree that architectural continuity can create cohesion, the architecture of your home is context, not a mandate.
When someone doesn't identify with their home's traditional character, I think it's important to honor the individual. I have seen many contemporary interiors set within traditional homes, and the juxtaposition can be breathtaking.
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When a space feels cramped or isn't functioning well, I often see clients immediately assume they must add square footage.
Sometimes an addition is the right answer, but often the problem lies in how the existing space is being used.
For example, I had a client who was considering an addition to their kitchen. As we studied the existing space together, it became clear that the kitchen already had plenty of room, but the current layout wasn't making good use of it.
Rather than expanding the footprint of their home, we focused on reorganizing the space they already have so it functions better for them.
Before assuming more space is needed, identify where the friction is coming from: difficulty moving through a room, belongings that pile up in unwanted places, or things stored far from where they're used.
It's impossible to solve a problem you don't fully understand.
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If you've ever invested in beautiful or expensive furniture, you may have worried about how you'll protect it from getting "ruined" by daily life.
But here's the rub (pun intended): When protecting furniture starts interfering with actually living in your home, we may have a problem.
Think about the white sofa featured in the aspirational home decor imagery in magazines or on social media. It's beautiful. It's pristine.
However, every Friday night, it needs to be covered with a blanket before anyone settles in to watch TV with a glass of red wine and a piece of chocolate. At some point, the needs of the furniture began to take priority over those of the person using it.
Here is the truth: Furniture is meant to be used, and a home is meant to be lived in.
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This is a pretty standard kitchen-planning rule of thumb: Put waste collection close to the area where food prep and cleanup happen.
However, this is based on an assumption about how people use their kitchens. Sometimes, there are better layouts depending on your situation.
For example, many of my clients compost most food scraps. One such client keeps a small compost container on her counter, which is convenient during food prep and clean-up. Between composting and recycling, her regular landfill garbage gets very little use.
Once we uncovered how little this client uses the conventional trash can in her kitchen, we decided to relocate it elsewhere, freeing up valuable cabinet space near the sink and dishwasher.
This may not follow the design "rule," but it's a more practical arrangement for her space.
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Sometimes an empty wall, shelf, or corner of a room can make a space feel unfinished, and our natural inclination is to fill it.
However, is empty space actually a problem that needs to be solved? No … at least not immediately.
I often encourage my clients to experiment with leaving something empty as part of the design process. It gives you an opportunity to live with the space and discover what — if anything — you actually need there.
You may discover a function you hadn't anticipated, eventually find something you genuinely want there, or realize that the room works better without anything at all.
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If a space feels unfinished, disjointed, or just "off," we often believe it needs a substantial change — new furniture, different finishes, or even a remodel.
And with so many dramatic reveals and before-and-afters, it's no wonder we think meaningful improvements require meaningful (and expensive!) interventions.
Rather than replacing everything, sometimes small, thoughtful changes can alter how a whole space feels.
For example, I had a client whose guest bathroom was remodeled several years ago. The materials, fixtures, and finishes were beautiful, but they didn't quite come together as a whole.
Rather than replacing them, we added a single wall of peel-and-stick wallpaper, a DIY project the client could tackle over a weekend. It connected what was already there and made the room feel cohesive.
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Because an interior designer has professional expertise and experience, homeowners assume their aesthetic judgment is more valid — or that the designer has the "right" design answer, and they do not.
Designers understand proportion, scale, color, materials, and composition, but clients know more than they give themselves credit for. They notice when a color feels wrong, have strong reactions to particular materials or furnishings, and can identify what they prefer even if they don't have the design vocabulary to explain why.
Although a designer can help you understand those preferences and translate them into a cohesive space, your own sense of what feels right should be part of the design process.
After all, expertise isn't about applying rules indiscriminately — it's about knowing when they serve the person in front of you and when they don't.
I have a saying in my practice: "You do you!" You are the expert in how you live, what you like, and what makes you feel at home.
Emily Pogue
After living as digital nomads for nearly two years, my husband and I decided to move from the US to the Netherlands.
We'd visited several times and fell in love with the walkability and bike culture. Plus, I have a connection to the country, since my great-grandparents were Dutch.
With the help of a real-estate agent, we found an apartment remotely from the US, signing a yearlong lease in the city of Utrecht before ever setting foot in the home.
Emily Pogue
Since the process of finding an apartment abroad can often take months, we chose to search remotely from the US. To make things easier, we hired a Dutch real-estate agent with local connections who could view apartments for us in person.
The prep work was much more intense than I was used to. In the US, I've leased apartments in three different states, and the extent of the application typically included filling out a basic form and sometimes completing a background check.
That wasn't going to cut it in the Netherlands.
Our agent gave us a long list of materials to prepare, from 12 months of bank statements and links to our LinkedIn profiles, to a "get to know us" letter, which included our hobbies and photos of us. Then she went looking.
Rentals often get snatched up within a few hours or days, so my husband and I were regularly waking up at 4 a.m. in Colorado to read our agent's emails about the new listings each day.
When we finally found one that checked all our boxes, we asked her to schedule a walkthrough. Luckily, she recorded a video for us to review, so we didn't need to wake up early for this part of the process.
It was during the walkthrough, however, that we learned Dutch apartment listings aren't as detailed as the ones we were used to in the US. When our agent arrived, we discovered the listing had omitted several important pieces of information.
Emily Pogue
For example, there was a fully fenced-in back garden, complete with a shed, picnic table, and blackberry and rose bushes. The kitchen had a dishwasher. And there was a washing machine hidden away behind a cabinet door — and a dryer (which is not as common in Europe).
Score, right? So we jumped at the opportunity, put in our bid, and jumped for joy when our offer was accepted.
Emily Pogue
We arrived in the Netherlands a few weeks later, traveling directly from the airport to our rental. When we unlocked the door for the first time, hoping we'd fall in love with our new home, it was … freezing.
Turns out, the heat had stopped working, and the rental company couldn't send someone to fix it until the next day. So, we spent our first night in the Netherlands at a hotel.
Thankfully, the heat was fixed the following day, and then we could start unpacking. This is when we began to notice some of the more nuanced differences of a Dutch house compared to an American one.
The first thing to get used to? The alarmingly steep stairs (a hallmark of skinny, tall Dutch houses) which made moving furniture up to our second-floor office feel like a Herculean feat.
We also learned to accept moths and gnats as houseguests, since Dutch windows don't typically have screens. However, with no air conditioning and a 100-year-old house that was built to retain heat, we definitely want to keep those windows open.
Overall, aside from a few stowaway insects and some hot days, we've been very fortunate with our rental. I particularly love the neighborhood and how we can walk to a grocery store, bakery, or park within five minutes.
Emily Pogue
Although finding our rental was a whirlwind process, I've found the most interesting parts of living here have come from the cultural differences between American and Dutch neighborhoods.
For example, shortly after arriving, our neighbor invited us to the neighborhood WhatsApp group. If you need to borrow a drill or lose your cat, you send a message to the group.
It's very active, and joining the group helped me feel like I was part of a community before knowing anyone here. Although I've heard of similar groups in the US, I've never been invited to join one.
Ordering packages is also very different. Back in the States, packages would be left by my door. In the Netherlands, however, they aren't left unattended.
Instead, the delivery driver will start ringing the neighbors' doorbells until someone is home. Then, they'll leave a digital note about which house has your package.
One place I didn't expect to feel such a contrast is the sidewalk. On sunny days, my Dutch neighbors bring out their dining room chairs, park them on the bricks outside their front door, and enjoy a cold drink. Sometimes, it'll feel like an impromptu block party — and I couldn't be happier to join in the festivities.
After leasing an apartment across the world, sight unseen, would I do it again? I sure would — especially if I could hire a real-estate agent to check out the home in person.
The quirks of our apartment and neighborhood are all part of the experience of living abroad, and although I may not have expected them, I've now grown attached to these cultural differences.
Courtesy of Hayley and Mo Molina
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hayley and Mo Molina, 30 and 49, a married couple who live on a 400-acre ranch in Claremore, Oklahoma. Hayley's parents bought the ranch in 2021, and now four generations of family live there. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
Hayley: I was born in Bluffton, Indiana. Then my family moved to Oklahoma when I was three.
We always lived in town, and my family knew nothing about ranching. They were golfers; I didn't listen to country music until I was in high school — we were city people. But then my parents sold their house and were looking for something new, something different.
They were actually looking for something smaller and with not as much land to take care of, but we started talking about a family compound, found Hook Ranch, and just jumped in headfirst.
When my parents first found the property, it was about 170 acres, give or take, and they just kept buying more land and growing it bigger and bigger until it landed on what it is now.
When my parents were talking about doing this, the future goal was for me to be out here. For me, it wasn't the goal right away. I wanted that in the future, but I didn't know what the future looked like for me.
My grandparents ended up moving out here and living in the barn, where they live now, because I wasn't planning on moving out there or building anytime soon.
They were like, "OK, well we'll just take your spot then."
Then Mo and I met, and honestly, I don't even know if we ever had the conversation about living out here.
Courtesy of Hayley and Mo Molina
Mo: We really didn't bring it up early on. And when we first thought about it, I was like, "There's no way I'm living out there with all them family. There's no way." Not because I didn't like them; it just wasn't in the plan.
But then, as I got to know them, loved them, and we hung out with them almost every weekend, we were like, "Wait a minute, we love it out here."
I proposed out here, and after that, it took off from there. And then it was normal.
Hayley: On the property, there's us, my parents, my mom's parents, and then my brother and sister-in-law and their two daughters.
My family's always been so close. We're the type of people who always hung out on the weekends. We always went to my parents' house Friday night. It was so normal to be so close and always together.
Mo: For me, it was just my mom and me growing up, and we lived in the city, but I'm a country boy. I knew I always wanted to be out in the country. But it looked like I was going to be in the city the whole time. But with Hayley being close to her family, it all came together.
Hayley: We actually moved in with my parents first. We sold my house in March 2025, and then moved in with my parents.
Courtesy of Hayley and Mo Molina
Mo: We lived there while we were building our house.
Hayley: We got married in September, moved in with my parents in March, and lived there for seven months. We moved into our house in October of 2025.
Our house is only about 100 yards away from the barn, which is where my parents and grandparents live.
My brother and sister-in-law are about 200 yards away from the barn — it's like a seven-minute walk. It's literally a one-minute walk from my house to my parents' house.
Mo: I didn't know if there were going to be any benefits to living that close or not, especially when my father-in-law built a trail that goes right from the barn to our house.
It's kind of cliché, but if we don't have any eggs, we can literally walk down there.
Hayley: But honestly, we have so much privacy. You wouldn't think that, but I can't even see my parents' house or my brother's house from my house.
Courtesy of Hayley and Mo Molina
We can be in the backyard, the front yard, and I have no idea what's going on at their houses ever.
We can go weeks without seeing anybody. There's a lot of privacy out here because everybody respects each other's privacy.
Mo: It is weird knowing that we're this close and then a couple weeks go by, and I'm like, "Man, I haven't seen anybody," or "We haven't gone down there," and they're 100 steps away.
Mo: When we first started dating, she was always hanging out with her parents almost every weekend, and I was living my single life, and I was hanging out with my buddies, and we would go out almost every weekend.
Hayley: Friday nights, we know what my parents are doing, because they do the same thing pretty much every Friday night.
So if we don't have anything to do, we are just going to go join them. Sometimes I just want to hang out with people, but I don't want to have to drive anywhere, and I don't want to have to get ready. So we'll have a game night at the barn with the whole family: my grandparents, us, my parents, and my brother and his family.
Mo: Hayley used to come and hang out with my friends, and then it didn't take very long before I went over to her family's place and hung out with them. I was like, "Man, this is kind of cool." They're awesome to hang out with.
At first, I was like, "I'm not hanging out with your parents. This is not a cool Friday night." In less than a month, I would say we were literally hanging out every weekend with her parents.
Hayley: I think we all have gotten so much closer. I have learned so much about my grandparents and gotten closer with my grandma.
Courtesy of Hayley and Mo Molina
My grandma comes over to our house every Monday morning and washes our sheets for us. While the sheets are washing and drying, she cleans the floors for me, and while she's doing that, she and I chat.
That's been really nice because I get to connect with her whenever. Before, I couldn't really do that because we only saw them every once in a while. Now I can do that every week. And she goes to my brother's house and does their laundry on Tuesdays.
Mo: Getting to know her family more and seeing how they do things and what they like and what their everyday looks like has been a benefit.
Her family works so hard. Her mom is the hardest worker on the ranch, and I would've never known that when I met her.
Her parents run a business, and her dad is constantly not in the house — except to watch college football.
I've learned so much from him.
I think getting to know that part of her family was huge for me. That's what's different. If we lived where we lived before, I probably would've never learned, or wanted to learn, that. So that was big for me.
Caroline Lissy
Before heading out to the bar on our final day of junior year at the University of Maryland, I sat in my empty college apartment with my friends, laughing over a dumb sitcom while scrolling on our phones.
Half of our stuff was in boxes as we were preparing to move into our very own house for the next school year. We fantasized about the parties we would throw and the decorating we would do.
But then, two months later, everything was turned upside down when one friend backed out and moved to Wisconsin to pursue a new career path. We were scrambling to find a replacement, but luckily, we weren't the only ones looking for a roommate.
When I was talking to my mom about the situation, my 24-year-old brother, who was three years out of college, was on the other end of the phone. Turns out, he was trying to find a place to live after his arrangements in Baltimore — about 40 minutes from my school — changed at the last minute.
My mom listened to both her children in a state of panic and was able to solve both problems with the most cruel suggestion a college girl could ever hear. "Why don't you move in together?"
Sure, that's just how every girl wants to spend her senior year of college. It was my parents' dream and my own nightmare.
My brother and I are close, but this still seemed like a crazy idea. However, we'd already signed a lease and didn't want to cover the rent for our friend who moved away. So, my brother and I talked on the phone, toying with the idea, before meeting up for lunch and deciding to officially become roommates for the first time since high school.
Despite any hesitations, once the summer ended, we all moved into the house together.
Suddenly, my senior year of college looked less like a coming-of-age movie and more like an episode of "New Girl." Three college girls and my older brother, all under one roof.
Caroline Lissy
Whenever my brother and I told people we were living together, we got some crazy looks. There were a lot of questions for him about how he could live with a bunch of college girls and function as a full-time adult. There were also a lot of questions for me, a full-blown party girl, about whether I would feel uncomfortable living with my overprotective brother.
We were living different lives and were on completely different pages — or so we thought. Surprisingly, after moving in, there were moments when I was thankful my brother was there.
When I had a falling-out with my roommates around the second half of the school year, and tensions grew, my brother was there to have my back. The living room no longer felt like a safe space, so I would go to his room instead.
Then, six months into our living arrangement, I got news that one roommate had received a full-time job offer, while the other was accepted into graduate school. Meanwhile, I was a straight-A student with four different internships, who was going to be completely jobless.
It felt unfair and difficult to speak with my friends about my unemployment and fear of adulthood since they couldn't relate. So, in these moments, I ended up going to my brother, since he had gone through the same situation a few years back when he was finishing school.
As I learned more about his life, his perspective helped me navigate my own experiences — and brought us closer, too.
Fast-forward a couple of months, and my brother and I spent the majority of our time at home laughing on the couch, watching reality television, and talking about our weekday struggles. While I was struggling to find a job, my brother was struggling with his work as an elementary school teacher.
When I was complaining about guys, he was telling me about his dating failures. Sure, living together while navigating our respective romantic lives was occasionally awkward, but we did our best to keep our flings from crossing paths.
Before long, we were both spending our Sundays hungover on the couch, debriefing our weekends. Although my brother may not have found the same common ground with the other girls I was living with — who were practically strangers to him — we were closer than we've ever been.
Caroline Lissy
Spending this much time with my brother alleviated any fears I had of adulthood.
His day-to-day life wasn't too different from mine, but while I was attending classes as a student, he was leading them as a teacher. Although I had no plans to become an educator, he gave me advice on navigating the workforce and figuring out how to be a grown-up.
More than anything, he showed me that postgrad life could still be fun. I could go to the gym and blast my music, grab drinks with friends, and binge-watch my favorite shows. The difference was that life felt a little more elevated, with new opportunities to step outside my college bubble.
At the end of the day, he taught me that the problems we face after college are not so different from the ones we had in college. Whether someone is newly postgrad, graduated 10 years ago, or is still completing their studies, we are all figuring things out in our own way.
We now live in different cities with our significant others, but spending a year together created a bond that makes my brother feel more like my best friend than a sibling.
We still talk every day, and now we get to laugh with each other's partners about the realities of living with us. After all, we've both been there.
Courtesy of Hilary Tang
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hilary Tang, 23, a recent college graduate from Hong Kong who purchased a home in Hiroshima, Japan, with her college friends. The following has been edited for length and clarity.
I graduated from Minerva University in San Francisco last May.
I was planning to work at a startup in San Francisco, but I decided that I wanted to take a gap year. At Minerva, our cohort is pretty diverse, and I have quite a few friends from Japan. One of my friends had this concept: "There are these akiyas, but no one actually buys them."
I actually never saw any of those videos about akiyas before, but I did know about the 1 euro house in Italy thing. I didn't know there was a similar concept in Japan.
My friend was initially planning to buy a house with his high school friends, but they backed out very early on. After they backed out, he asked if we were interested in buying a house.
That was in June. We bought the house in late July, and then we got the keys on August 6.
At first, we were trying to recruit people, but no one really wanted to. We even tried to recruit outside our school. I tried asking people from Hong Kong, but no one wanted to go somewhere random and buy a house in Japan because there's quite a lot of risk.
From the initial six people who bought the house, five people are from my university.
Courtesy of Hilary Tang
Then two other people joined, because my friend's friends also came over after we started the renovation. They're from Japan and really liked the house, so they decided to chip in as well. So currently, we have eight people.
We always wanted to have eight people in the house — it's just easier if we have a bigger budget.
After we assembled the people who decided to buy the house, we had an initial meeting to understand each person's motivations and expectations, because that would determine what kind of house we buy and how we want to treat it.
When we were talking about things we would want in the location, something that was common was that, firstly, we all preferred being in nature or easily accessible to nature. Within the group, most of them are Japanese and already live in Tokyo, Osaka, or another big city, so for them, they wanted to have a second house in a more rural area.
Secondly, we wanted somewhere that is easily accessible, even internationally. Another friend is planning to work in the US, and there's also a Korean member, so it's better if there's more motivation, or it's easier for us to actually go there if there's an international airport nearby.
And thirdly, we wanted somewhere with better weather and with lower earthquake and tsunami risk.
Courtesy of Hilary Tang
We ended up finding a house in Hiroshima.
The house itself was 1.8 million yen (or $11,371), but the price was negotiated because the house was initially listed on the website at 3 million yen.
We also had to pay the agent fee and other fees, so we spent about 2.3 million yen in total.
The house is around 315 square meters (or 3,390 square feet), and almost 500 square meters of land.
We have nine Japanese-style rooms, which are rooms with tatami flooring, and two Western-style rooms, which are rooms without tatami flooring.
Initially, we wanted to do the whole renovation within $4,000, but since we have more people chipping in, our budget expanded. We still haven't used up our original $20,000 budget. Just for the renovation, we've used around $1,262, as of start of October.
We've been staying in the house the entire time we've renovated it, and luckily the house was in better condition than we expected.
Courtesy of Hilary Tang
The timeline was so tight that we couldn't actually go there to see the house before we bought it. But the agent did a video tour, and we looked around, and it was quite nice.
We also talked to our neighbors, because the person who lived in the house passed away about five years ago, and then afterward it was left vacant. But before he passed away, the neighbors said how the previous owner was really diligent with cleaning stuff; that they always saw him cleaning, even toward the end of his life.
When we got there, we realized it was actually a lot more well-maintained than we thought, so we didn't have to do a very big renovation. At first, we thought we'd have to change all the tatami, or rebuild certain parts, or put down certain parts. But it turns out there hasn't been a super big expense that would require us to rebuild the entire thing.
We did paint and also repaired some curtains and lights because they weren't working. We added a fire alarm and air conditioning because they only had one or two aircons, and it gets really hot in Hiroshima during the summer and really cold in the winter. Those wooden houses don't insulate very well.
When we first got there in August, there were five of us. Then maybe for the first three days, there was always someone new coming, because there are a lot of friends who wanted to come here. So there are always visitors, and they also helped out because there's a lot going on — we even had friends' parents come over as well.
Courtesy of Hilary Tang
That's been my favorite part.
You see sides of people that you don't know. Everyone has some sort of expertise to bring. For example, some people are really good at painting. Our friend helped us paint the bathroom wall — he wanted to paint a Fuji mountain, but none of us really knew how to paint. So I'm really glad he came and helped us paint.
There's a girl who went to a lot of auctions growing up, so she specialized in artwork and helped us go through the things the previous owner left behind.
It would be nice to do Airbnb and learn about the process and to experience what it's like to manage an Airbnb. Maybe with the house on Airbnb we can cover at least the running costs every year.
Still, we want to prioritize us hanging out.
Every month we try to gather there, and so far we've been going consistently once a month.
We wanted to create a place we could always come back to whenever life gets a little overwhelming, where any of us could take a break, have some space to ourselves, and take time to process whatever was going on in life.
We see this house not as an investment, but as a shared place among us.
Courtesy of Elana Rabinowitz.
The internet has been buzzing about Airbnb's latest policy change over restrictions on what a host can — and cannot — ask a guest to do before they check out.
I've been renting my home in the Hudson Valley for five years, and have been a Superhost since 2023. Currently, I have 90 guest reviews with an average rating of 4.97. That's not an accident. It's something I work hard at.
Though the property management company I work with hasn't always loved it, I've never been big on requiring guests to follow a strict cleanup policy. While we did ask for dishes to be done at one time, that hasn't been part of my guest instructions since 2025. For me, the most important tasks are to turn off the lights and return the key to the lockbox before guests leave. Beyond that, I don't expect much else, though I know that hasn't been the norm for some Airbnb users.
Courtesy of Elana Rabinowitz.
Somehow, the B&B part of the nomenclature appears to have gotten lost. I've seen users who fear bad reviews if a place isn't meticulously cleaned, voicing their concerns on Reddit and Facebook. For me, that's not something I think someone should have to worry about when they're paying to use a space.
While there are legitimate stories of guests destroying a place or leaving it in shambles, this hasn't been my experience. I believe the majority are good guests.
There is still a cleanliness rating for hosts to fill out about guests, so I imagine that even without imposed rules, most will do the dishes anyway. Leaving a bag of trash inside the house shouldn't result in a host docking a star or two from their review. It should be part of the stay, especially since hosts can set a cleaning fee for their property upfront.
I am glad the company has intervened on behalf of the guests. They are staying at a vacation rental, not a work exchange.
I understand the rationale behind hosts who have lots of rules. There is often a small window between turnovers, and hosts want to make sure they have enough time to wash and dry everything before the next guests arrive.
It's something I worry about, too. That's why I keep extra linens and dishes on hand. They're there to use just in case there isn't enough time to complete everything between the bookings.
At one point, my property manager and I disagreed over what we wanted guests to do. I felt as if he was taking it personally if someone left dirty dishes in the sink or didn't sweep up. With this rule change, we'll no longer be at odds, and I'm glad.
Courtesy of Elana Rabinowitz.
I am fortunate. I have rarely had a guest be anything less than tidy, and I have also had hardworking cleaners who have taken linens home to wash because turnovers have been so tight.
None of my guests have complained about my rules directly to me or in the comments they've left online about my property. I intend to keep it that way.
Everyone has their own reasons for getting into this business. For some, it is purely fiscal, but for me, it has been personal. This is my house, and I take tremendous pride in it and the surrounding area. I vet each potential guest personally and hand-pick a welcome gift for them. I want them to have a lovely stay, leave with fond memories, and maybe even a desire to return one day.
The last thing I want a guest to do is worry about a lengthy checklist of tasks before leaving. I don't want that to be their last memory of their stay.
Soon, a mother and daughter will be staying at my property for the third year in a row. In my emails to them, I wished them a safe journey and said we would take care of the rest — and I meant it.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
Retirement didn't exactly mean slowing down for Bonnie and Hunter Moore.
The Moores, both 71, have lived near the Vanderbilt campus in Nashville for over 40 years. They bought their home in 1983, raising their two children and building their careers. Bonnie was a proofreader, while Hunter worked in the music industry.
When they retired in 2019, they were excited to have more time for their passions. For Hunter, that includes reading, playing the piano, working on model trains, and independent study (he's currently working on a dissertation for fun). Bonnie loves entertaining her friends — especially in her "Not Your Mother's Bible Study" group — hosting her grandsons, and traveling.
By 2023, though, it was clear their home base wasn't set up to help them thrive in retirement, as their bedroom, office, and music studio were all on the second floor. After caring for their own aging parents, they knew second-floor living wasn't ideal for aging in place, particularly when Hunter developed vertigo that made climbing stairs unsafe.
Bonnie and Hunter didn't want their adult children worrying about them as they got older, as they had worried about their parents. Instead, the Moores hoped to set themselves up to live independently for as long as possible — and have fun while doing it.
Luckily, the house next door was the perfect solution to their problem.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The Moores bought the rental house, which provided supplemental income, in 2007 for $360,000. At 1,400 square feet, it had three bedrooms and two bathrooms.
The front couldn't be changed too drastically because the Moores live in a historic area, but their lot had space in the back where they could expand the home.
As they realized they wanted to upsize for retirement from their 2,700-square-foot home, Bonnie and Hunter decided to do a massive overhaul of the rental house, taking it down to the studs.
The renovation, which added a two-story addition to the back, gave them a 4,400-square-foot space with four bedrooms, four bathrooms, and two half baths, plus ample living space and a bonus room that could be converted into a bedroom if needed.
They also incorporated features that would make aging in place easier.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The Moores hired Michael Brown Construction, Beth Haley Designs, and Allard Ward Architects to bring the project to life. Brown specialized in historic renovations, and Haley had an expertise in aging-in-place accommodations, both of which were needed.
Renovations kicked off in early 2024 and took about 18 months to complete. Because they gutted the original structure, the Moores had to pay for all new plumbing and electrical wiring throughout the home in addition to the cosmetic changes. The height of the original exterior stayed the same, and the windows that were originally there didn't move. Nearly everything else changed, though.
The Moores were able to stay in their first home while they transformed their new house, which, Bonnie said, made everything easier.
"We didn't have to move," she said. "We could look out the window and notice somebody was walking around, and go over to see if they needed to talk to us. It was wonderful."
Tamara Reynolds for BI
It was important to the Moores that the addition had a second story so they'd have plenty of bedrooms for their kids, grandkids, and loved ones to stay in when they visited.
However, they wanted the first floor to be where they spent most of their time. It needed to accommodate larger parties, such as their Christmas gatherings or Bonnie's Bible study group, and their bedroom had to be on the main level as well.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The kitchen and living areas are combined in the Moores' home, with large windows and sliding glass doors framing the space and letting in light.
A table helps to visually separate the kitchen from the living area.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
"My kitchen is probably about the size of part of my downstairs next door," Bonnie said of the space, which features a large island surrounded by ample built-in cabinetry.
It also has a walk-in pantry, one of Bonnie's favorite features, and was set up to suit the couple as they get older, with wide walkways and doorways. A few of the drawers also have large gaps behind them, so you can reach behind them without jamming your fingers.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The first floor has a larger living room with a TV, and another with two comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace, which the Moores think of as their den. A grand piano splits the two spaces.
Bonnie also said they had the fireplace raised intentionally.
"As you're sitting in your chair, you're looking straight into the fireplace instead of looking down," she said. "When you're old, you don't want to have to bend over as much, so you raise things in that way without it looking weird."
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The house came with a formal dining room, but the Moores didn't feel they needed that space, since they had a dining area at their kitchen counter and kitchen table.
Instead, they turned it into a workout room and office for Bonnie.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
It has a treadmill, a weight machine, and a desk. However, it could easily still work as a dining space or even a bedroom down the line if needed.
"We kept it with the feel of a dining room in case somebody wanted that for resale," Bonnie said.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
To maximize the space, they put shelving wherever possible. For instance, Bonnie turned the space below their stairs into a "hobbit hole" for her grandsons, filling it with a bean bag and books as an escape for them.
"I used every place that you could store something," she said.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
Bonnie described Hunter as a "voracious reader," so a library was a must-have for their home.
Still, the room has a closet and an en suite bathroom, and it could fit a smaller bed or a Murphy bed, so it could become another first-floor bedroom if the Moores ever need live-in help.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
Bonnie and Hunter's bedroom has plenty of room for the couple to walk around the bed on either side, which was intentional. They didn't want the space to become cumbersome if they use wheelchairs or walkers someday.
It also has a loveseat, which Bonnie said they added so they can sit and put on their shoes without bending down.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The suite has a walk-in closet, one of Bonnie's favorite features in her new home.
Its blue cabinetry matches that in the bathroom for a cohesive look.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The bathroom is designed to accommodate a walker or wheelchair with ease.
It has luxury touches, like a double vanity and a massive walk-in shower with grab bars and a bench running the length of the shower for aging-in-place accommodations.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
They also made the showerhead adjustable, which was a must-have because Bonnie is 5-foot-4 and Hunter is 6-foot-2. Bonnie wanted to make sure the height could adjust easily with one hand in case they developed any mobility issues, and that function has already come in handy.
Bonnie had a mastectomy in August and wasn't able to lift her arms above her head in the initial weeks of her recovery. Being able to adjust the showerhead height on her own during that time allowed her to maintain her independence as she healed.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The location of the laundry room means the Moores can live entirely on their first floor if they want, ensuring they don't have to use stairs if it becomes challenging for them.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The Moores didn't want their second floor to become inaccessible if stairs became harder for them to manage as they age, so they decided to add an elevator to the home in the renovation.
It was a pricey aspect of the renovation, coming in at around $31,000, which doesn't include the cost of building out the space for it or installation.
Bonnie said the elevator was worth it, though, as it feels "responsible" for her and Hunter at this stage. It's a big comfort to their kids, too.
"They're so relieved that we aren't going up and down the stairs," Bonnie said.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The elevator sits next to a room where Bonnie stores things like Christmas decor and luggage, and she said being able to pop items directly into the elevator has been great for them.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
One of the bedrooms has twin beds for the Moores' grandsons to enjoy, and it connects to Hunter's office (which could also be turned into a bedroom if needed) via a Jack-and-Jill bathroom.
The other bedroom on the second floor has an en suite bathroom, providing privacy for whoever stays there.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
An open area at the top of the stairs has a wet bar, a mini fridge, and a cozy seating area.
The Moores love having an additional flex space for their family or friends to enjoy when they come to visit.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The Moores didn't have a large garage at their old home, so they were excited about the detached, two-car garage on their new property.
They finished a space at the back with a half bathroom and a room for Hunter to work on his model trains. The space has vaulted ceilings for a more luxurious look, which Bonnie said they added with the home's resale value in mind.
There's an unfinished attic in the garage as well, which gives the Moores the option to expand their living space further if they want.
"If one of our kids wanted to live over there and finish it, they could," Bonnie said.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
The Moores moved into their home in August 2025, and they've been loving it ever since.
"This is our dream house," Bonnie said. "We are so grateful that we could do this because we put everything we possibly wanted."
"When we sit at our dining room table and eat breakfast, I tell my husband every morning, 'I'm so happy,'" she added.
Hunter echoed Bonnie, saying the renovation "seemed like a huge project," but their design team made it manageable, as did being able to bounce ideas off Bonnie.
"I'm so glad we did it," he added.
Tamara Reynolds for BI
It's working well for their community, too. Bonnie said the house has made their guests feel at ease when they've hosted parties and had people stay overnight.
"It's better than I thought it would even turn out, and the way it makes us feel is just very peaceful," Bonnie said. "My kids all love it, and we have room for everybody. I host all the holidays and the birthday parties."
Tamara Reynolds for BI
In total, the Moores said they spent about $1.7 million turning their rental property into their dream home. That cost includes furniture upgrades and some exterior stonework to ensure the house looks up to date from the outside.
They were able to offset it with the $850,000 sale of their first home, and Bonnie said she views the work they did as an investment in the future, for both themselves and their kids.
"This allows us to stay in our house as long as we possibly can, and if we can't, then we have designed a house that will probably sell for $1.9 million," she said. "Our kids can sell it, pay for wherever we need to be, or it can be a great inheritance for them."
She and Hunter feel only gratitude that they could create a house that will benefit them and their whole family for years to come.
"The sooner you do it, the more you can enjoy it before you really need it," she said. "And it's a relief for your children. It's the best gift we could give them."
Sarah Stier/Getty Images
LeBron James has had a legendary run on the court. The four-time NBA champion has played for the Cleveland Cavaliers, Miami Heat, Los Angeles Lakers, and now the Philadelphia 76ers, winning titles with his first three teams.
His real estate portfolio has grown alongside his career. James has bought homes near most of the cities where he has played, building a multimillion-dollar collection of properties in the process.
Forbes estimates James' net worth to be $1.4 billion as of publication. Over the years, he has secured lucrative endorsement deals and business ventures with brands including Nike, Beats by Dre, PepsiCo, and Fanatics.
Now, James is reportedly living in a luxury building in New York City and commuting by helicopter to Philadelphia for 76ers games and to the team's practice facility in Camden, New Jersey (the flights are covered through his partnership with Fanatics) — a routine that has drawn criticism from some fans.
Take a look at some of the properties James has purchased over the years, from a custom-built home in Akron, Ohio, to a 13,000-square-foot mansion in Beverly Hills.
Allison Farrand/NBAE via Getty Images
James was born and raised in Akron, Ohio, and the city remains a big part of his life.
In 2003, after the Cleveland Cavaliers drafted him at age 18, he purchased an almost seven-acre property in Bath Township, a community just outside Akron, for more than $2.1 million.
After tearing down the property's existing home, he built a 30,000-square-foot house in its place. The six-bedroom, fourteen-bathroom home includes a recording studio, a full barbershop, a home theater, a sports bar, and a two-lane bowling alley, Robb Report reported.
While James spends much of his time outside of Ohio these days, he's still very connected to Akron.
In 2018, through the LeBron James Family Foundation, he opened the I PROMISE School in partnership with Akron Public Schools. The public elementary and middle school serves at-risk kids, providing them with free meals and transportation. Eligible students also receive free tuition to the University of Akron.
Courtesy of Opulence International Realty
In 2010, after seven years with the Cavaliers, James announced during a live, hourlong ESPN special that he would be joining the Miami Heat. The move became one of the most controversial moments in NBA history.
While many Cleveland fans saw it as a betrayal, Miami welcomed James with open arms. That year, he purchased a 13,930-square-foot, six-bedroom home in Coconut Grove for $9 million.
After four years with the Heat, during which James helped bring home two championships along with fellow superstars Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh, he listed his Miami home for $17 million. After returning to Ohio, the home eventually sold for $13.4 million, Realtor.com reported.
A Realtor.com listing shows the home was last sold for 18.5 million in 2023. It's no surprise its value has climbed. Over the years, Coconut Grove has become one of Miami's hottest and wealthiest neighborhoods, attracting high-profile residents including Citadel CEO Ken Griffin and Google's cofounder and former CEO Larry Page.
Adam Mustafa/Getty Images
James returned to his hometown to play for the Cavaliers in 2014. But when he bought a $21 million, six-bedroom mansion in Brentwood the following year, it sparked rumors that he could eventually move to the Lakers.
The 9,440-square-foot colonial-style home had eight bathrooms and amenities, including a basketball court, a home gym, and an infinity pool. James eventually sold the home for $19.6 million in 2021, Robb Report reported.
In 2017, James purchased a second Brentwood property for $23 million. The newly built mansion had eight bedrooms, marble floors, 14-foot ceilings, and a rooftop terrace overlooking Los Angeles.
The speculation about James joining the Lakers proved right in 2018, when he signed a four-year, $153.3 million deal with the team. In 2020, he led the team to an NBA title and became the first player in league history to win Finals MVP with three different teams.
Alexis Gonzalez/Getty Images
In 2020, James made his biggest real estate purchase to date when he bought a 13,000-square-foot mansion in Beverly Hills for $36.75 million.
The mansion, which sat on 2.5 acres, was built in the 1930s and once belonged to Lee Phillip Bell, the co-creator of the soap operas "The Young and the Restless" and "The Bold and the Beautiful," Realtor.com reported.
In 2023, he demolished the existing home and began building a new compound from the ground up. According to Robb Report, the plans call for two homes: a roughly 16,000-square-foot, two-story main house with a 7,700-square-foot basement garage, pool, spa, and outdoor kitchen; and a 6,550-square-foot, one-story guesthouse with a basement theater and hot-and-cold plunge pools.
James is living in New York during the basketball season, while his wife, Savannah, and their daughter remain on the property as construction continues.
In October, the couple gave Vogue a look inside the property. Among their most treasured features in the home is an OxyHealth hyperbaric chamber, the Vitaeris 320 model, which, according to the health website Regenerated, can cost between $ 18,000 and $23,000.
Heather Snow
After 18 years of living in San Francisco, I was seriously starting to consider moving.
I loved the life I had built there, but taking the next step — like buying my own house with a yard — felt out of reach for me. However, I was afraid I would regret leaving the place I had called home for so many years.
When thinking of places I'd like to live, Seattle immediately came to mind. I figured the city would offer similar energy and career opportunities as San Francisco, and I loved its proximity to striking natural beauty.
Plus, I'd visited the West Coast city many times and had a good friend who lived there, so it seemed like a logical move. But instead of taking the leap immediately, I decided to test out living in the city for a month to make sure it was the right fit for me.
Through HomeExchange, a platform that allows users to swap homes with people from around the world, I traded my Noe Valley condo for a house with a yard in the Ballard neighborhood of Seattle for the month of July.
Heather Snow
Although I'd visited Seattle many times over the years, this was my first chance to test everyday life there with my dog, Pepper — not just experience the city as a tourist.
I worked remotely, went grocery shopping, and checked out the Ballard Farmers Market on Sundays. Pepper and I explored different parks on morning walks and went to local breweries in the evenings.
I really prioritized spending time in Ballard, since that was the neighborhood I was most interested in possibly calling home. I loved that the residential parts were filled with single-family homes on tree-lined streets, but the location was also walkable to a historic core filled with shops, restaurants, and bars.
It felt like it could be the perfect combination of having a home with a yard in a residential neighborhood, while still having the city life and walkability I loved in San Francisco.
Heather Snow
However, staying for a month also allowed me to experience some of the pain points I'd deal with as a local.
For example, although I found Ballard incredibly walkable, once I left the neighborhood, Seattle as a whole felt much more spread out and suburban than San Francisco. I found myself driving and sitting in traffic more than I'm used to.
One night, I was invited to go to my friend's house for dinner. What I thought would be a quick, 30-minute drive turned into a 55-minute headache in rush-hour traffic. In this moment, I realized moving around the city would require more planning than I initially expected.
Having Pepper with me also gave me insights into dog regulations that I never would have noticed on vacation. Although Seattle is a very dog-friendly city, I found there are more restrictions around water access and off-leash areas than I ever would have known about as a tourist.
I'm used to letting Pepper run off-leash in the sand at Fort Funston in San Francisco, but I found that most sandy beaches in Seattle don't allow dogs. Luckily, she was still able to sunbathe and people-watch from the yard of the house we were staying in.
Heather Snow
Having someone stay in my home gave me insight into what she loved about it, and it made me appreciate what I already had.
The woman I traded homes with mentioned that many of my neighbors greeted her and that people were friendly on her daily dog walks in Noe Valley. I wasn't surprised that she felt this way. After all, the community in my neighborhood is one of my favorite things about San Francisco.
Spending time away gave me clarity on what I value in the home I already have, and some perspective on what I want in my next home.
A month in Seattle made it clear that the city is not my place. It also confirmed that I wanted some things that are out of reach for me in San Francisco because of the cost of housing, like a house with a yard.
Ideally, I'd like to find a place that combines the best parts of both cities: affordability, a walkable neighborhood with a sense of community, and natural beauty. I also realized that avoiding heavy traffic and crowds may mean looking beyond major cities.
Thankfully, trading homes was a relatively low-cost, low-risk way to test a major life decision like moving. Before making an expensive move, I was able to refine my list of what I want in my next home, and what I don't.
For now, I'm still searching for my new city, but my vision of what the next chapter will look like is much clearer.
Sarah Catherine Cowie
For most of my 20s, I wanted to climb the career ladder — and hoped that as soon as I reached the top, everything would become clear and I would live happily ever after.
My life felt like it was headed in the right direction. I was on a steady, exciting career trajectory in the climate policy field. I even bought my first flat in an up-and-coming area of Edinburgh.
Then, my dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer in late 2022. The next few years were spent grappling with his illness and, eventually, his death.
I quickly felt the whole ecosystem of my life fall apart. I was struggling at work, and I didn't know how to ask for help. I tried my best to carry on as normal and try to convince myself that the work I was doing — and, by extension, myself — was important.
As I edged toward my 30th birthday in early 2025, against a backdrop of grief and burnout, the need for change felt urgent and existential.
Sarah Catherine Cowie
It was shortly after this, in the spring, that I decided a move abroad was exactly what I needed.
I quit my job and spent the next few months sending applications to schools across Europe, hoping to pursue a master's degree in my field and embark on a fresh start.
When an offer came from a university in Budapest, I knew that was where I would be going. I had visited for the first time about a decade prior, and fallen in love. I remember thinking, "I could see myself living here one day," not thinking that that "one day" would ever actually come.
In September, I packed up my life, started renting out my Edinburgh flat, and made the move.
The first few months brought a mix of excitement, fear, and disbelief. There was a lot of bureaucracy to navigate — forms to fill out, applications to be processed — and I couldn't relax until everything was completed.
I was also pretty lonely in the beginning. When I first moved, I didn't know a single person in Budapest and had to build a completely new social circle from scratch.
I also sometimes felt like an imposter: I was a lot older than the fresh-faced students in their early 20s who made up the bulk of my classmates. It felt like I was in a completely different life stage, and I was worried I didn't fit in.
Once I got settled, many of my anxieties subsided. I loved my new flat and enjoyed going back to school and learning new things.
Unfortunately, the hardest part — finding work — is ongoing. I figured I'd be able to get a part-time office job while I completed my degree, but it's been difficult. I've had to rely on my savings much more than I expected.
I've done what I can to get by. This summer, I worked long hours at a temp job; I've also worked as a teaching assistant at my university and done some voiceover work. However, none of this compares to what I used to earn as a full-time employee with a senior title.
And although the rent in Budapest is generally a lot lower than in Edinburgh, my general cost of living still feels pretty high, particularly when it comes to groceries and daily expenses.
This sense of financial precarity is difficult, and it's definitely not sustainable long-term. I'm lucky to have some income from my renter in Edinburgh and savings from my years working full-time — but there are still moments when I feel very acutely aware of the security I left behind.
Sarah Catherine Cowie
Despite the erratic, unsteady, and low-paid nature of all these jobs — or maybe even because of it — my attitude toward work has changed.
For so many years, my job was all I talked and worried about. I felt like what I did defined me as a person.
My jobs now might not be as "stable" or consistent, but I no longer view my career as my identity. Instead, I think of my jobs as a series of experiences — some good, some bad — that have made my world bigger and my life richer (unfortunately, not literally).
My attitude toward spending has changed, too. In the past, I would spend money on clothes, nights out, expensive nail salons, and vacations without really thinking. Now I'm much more frugal and intentional about my money, which I think is a good thing.
Most of all, though, my move forced me out of a comfort zone that was becoming increasingly less comfortable. Starting fresh somewhere new — and making my life here work, even amid the challenges — has shown me that I'm more resilient than I ever thought I could be.
I know now that no matter what gets thrown at me, I will deal with it somehow.
At times, I wonder how much easier my life would be if I had stayed where I was — and if I'm being honest, the answer is probably "a lot." But I am so glad I didn't choose the easy option.
I'm on track to graduate next June, and I am excited about what lies ahead. I'm not sure yet whether I'll explore opportunities elsewhere in Europe or perhaps move back to the UK — but I hope that no matter where I end up, I will return more confident and self-assured than when I left.
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