A Glossary for Apartment Hunters

When you first start apartment hunting, you quickly pick up on the fact that there is a very specific terminology associated with this niche of life. All are euphemistic. They were almost certainly delliberately chosen by landlords and realtors to evoke a glamorous image instead of whatever disadvantage it represents. Some of these euphemisms represent a small, incidental component of that image, but in some cases, they bear absolutely no resemblance.

I know, landlords in the business of selling apartments, so I'll begrudge them the attempt to slap these random labels on, but come on. Once everyone knows what these terms really mean, they become just as undesirable, don't they?

Anyway, I've become so fluent in apartment-rental-ese that I thought I'd share my knowledge. Well, okay, my bitter analysis, to be more precise.


Bachelor: This, to me, is the most insidious of them all. The term evokes a swingin' pad, as though the apartment comes furnished with a leather couch and a rotating bed. But it in fact means "this apartment doesn't include a kitchen. Hope you have a hot plate!" WHAT?? Oh... because bachelors don't cook...? Okay.... I'd like to question the humaneness (or usefulness, or desirability...) of not having a kitchen, but okay, go ahead and bother to continue making apartments like that. It kind of sounds like a sexist remnant from the 50's, but sure, let's keep calling it that. After all, it's so much shorter than "no kitchen".

Loft: Once again, this evokes, I dunno, a majestic, high-ceilinged place, like the actual lofts at the Brewery, where they have such high ceilings so they can bring in massive canvasses. And while lofts actually do have high ceilings, what this translates to in practice is that there's a staircase in the apartment that leads up to the actual "loft", i.e. a tiny patch of floor that most places rent out as a bedroom, even though there's no door and the "wall" is in fact no higher than a banister--i.e. absolutely no privacy.

The only way I can see this being desirable whatsoever--and probably the original purpose--is if it's a one bedroom apartment, i.e. there's no need for privacy, so it's more like a studio (that term's coming up soon) that happens to have an elevated sleeping area. But to have bedrooms AND a loft?? I don't get it, other than that people are desperate to have a lower rent--the same reason why people are willing to rent out or live in the space that's supposed to be the living room. *shudder*

Luxury Apartment: Anything that isn't a complete shithole. Take a look around your apartment. Are there no cracks in the paint all over your walls? Is your carpet actually fastened to the floor? Are the stairs leading up to the front door not crumbling in decay? Then heavens to betsy, thank your lucky fucking stars: you live in a luxury apartment.

I'm assuming that landlords are using this term in a very global-conscious way, i.e. they've all spent some time in the third world, where anything a step above a corrugated metal-roofed shack is a luxury. Wow, that just put my apartment hunting--yea, my whole life--in perspective; thanks, landlords.

Patio: You know, call me old fashioned, but when I hear the word "patio", I think of, well, an actual patio. I suppose my platonic ideal of a patio is something like a wide area with lawn chairs and whatnot. I think there's a certain point whereby as the square footage decreases, it ceases to become a patio and becomes nothing more than a ground-floor balcony, just as a room becomes a closet if it reaches a certain size. And yet I have now gone to two places where the "patio" is nothing more than a small balcony-sized patch of concrete cordoned off with a dilapidated wooden fence. Sorry honey. That is not a patio.

Studio: The glamorous image this term inaccurately evokes is, of course, an artist's studio. The real definition, of course, is that there is no separate living room, which sucks almost as much as not having a kitchen. I cannot for the life of me figure out how "studio" became synonymous with "no living room". My only guess is that these kinds of places were always inhabited by starving artists...?? Anyway, thanks to the appropriation of this term, while you're having dinner or parties in your bedroom, you can fancy yourself a daring young artist in the middle of Paris. Put up some half-finished paintings on easels to complete the illusion. (For anyone who thinks I'm being snobby, I can't even afford a studio.)

[International travel note!: In England, studios and bachelors are called bedsits. I haven't come up with any convincing reasons as to why. Because all you have room for is a bed to sit on?]

Tandem parking: Hahahaha. Oh, the joys of tandem parking. I was woken up nearly every morning at 6:30am to move my FUCKING car for WEEKS--for a roommate who in our initial interview insisted the tandem parking was never a big deal since she could always find street parking when she came home from work. And she then proceeded to NEVER park on the street. (But as some of you know, this is the LEAST of the problems I've had with my roommate.)

When I initially heard the term, I thought it meant the parking spaces were side-by-side or something. (Shows how great my vocabulary is...) But alas, it does not. The term should really be "one long parking space where two cars can fit, so you'll have to keep asking your roommate to move their car." What is the point of this?!?! You may as well not even pretend you have two parking spaces. You don't. You have one. These things should be BANNED. I will never. EVER. EVER. Rent a place with this monstrosity again. I don't care HOW beautiful or inexpensive the place is. (Although I suppose it also could be yet another sign that I should give up my car...)

Townhouse: This evokes the image of, I dunno, a cute little house with wood sidings. Not in the country, not in the city, but in a quaint little town, and it's distinguished from your country house, where you "summer". But no. The true definition of this term is... wait for it.... It has a staircase that goes to an upper floor. And I don't mean the way a mansion has two floors--I mean even within one APARTMENT, there are two floors. I took a wild, stupid guess as to how this came about, and according to Wikipedia, my hunch was correct: in "town"--i.e. any area with a relatively dense population--space is more restricted, so landlords found a way to squeeze even more people onto their plot of land. For instance, I suppose my old dilapidated apartment in Berkeley was a "townhouse" because there were a couple bedrooms in the ATTIC--a space which otherwise would not have extracted much more money from tenants.

But even crazier, the rental ads emphasize "townhouse" like it's a good thing!! The only positive spin I can put on this is that you'll get some random exercise into your day.


Of course, in addition to this specific terminology, there's a whole litany of other types of "rental ad speak", such as the over-usage of the word "adjacent". It's not Pico-Robertson--it's "Beverly Hills adjacent". Yet, strangely, absolutely NOTHING is "Palms adjacent". Interesting; I didn't know Palms was an island. And EVERYTHING is near the Grove. And many ads say things like "minutes away from Santa Monica and downtown." WHAT??? Are they assuming I have a helicopter?

I know I must have forgotten some... If any others come to mind, post them in the comments. :)