The house of your dreams is here.  All those years you spent cultivating your pristine credit rating and saving up for a down payment are about to pay off, but not in the form of a Logan Circle condo or a Bloomingdale rowhome.  No, the house of your dreams is called Lion Gate Estate, it’s in Highland Park, Michigan, and it was built by a former designer of automobiles.  Oh, and did I mention that it comes fully furnished?

You’re looking at this perfectly acceptable but sort of unremarkable facade and thinking, why would this be the house of my dreams?  Well, let’s go inside …


I can’t stress this enough:  this house comes with everything you see in the photos.  The white grand piano, the silver statuary, the lamp that’s actually a statue of a naked woman holding up an urn.  The mirrored walls.  This house is about six dimensions past irony;  it exists in a state of quantum irony, simultaneously kitschy and totally straightfaced.


The listing says this living room was “inspired by Liberace,” which sounds about right.  Is that a white fur-covered ottoman, or a sleeping alpaca?


THOSE TWO DOLLS COME WITH THE HOUSE.  Yes, those could be your twin jester dolls, along with the evil spirits that live in them.  (Come on, I’ve seen plenty of horror movies;  I guarantee that when you lie in bed at night, you’ll hear those dolls running around downstairs.)  You also get that transparent Lucite dining set, which is, quite frankly, enviable as hell.  Not to mention the gold leaf 3D angel murals.


Prospective buyer:  “I know this is a weird question, but do you think the sellers have ever made love in the dining room?”

Agent:  *Points to ceiling*


I studied this photo of the foyer for at least ten minutes.  It’s amazing how many marble busts are in this photo, once you really start looking closely.  In high school, I picked up my prom date while peaking on a stomachful of magic mushrooms, and this is basically what the entryway to her house looked like.


Those cabinets are so dismal that they go through a wormhole of bad taste and come out on the other side, at “so unbearably sophisticated, you wouldn’t get it.”  Taste isn’t a spectrum, it’s a mobius strip.


That backlit dropped ceiling looks like the floor of the set of a gameshow from the Sixties.  Also, the more I look at that yellow, the more I like it, though maybe that’s just the Stockholm Syndrome talking.


The appliances are mint condition Frigidaire from 1950, which brings me to my next point:  if you buy this house and change ONE SINGLE THING about it, you should go to prison for a very long time.  You will not be the owner of this house, only its caretaker.


Interior decorator:  “What do you want for the kitchen ceiling?”

Owner:  “Have you ever seen that episode of “The X-Files” about the sentient space fungus that drops down from the ceiling and sucks out people’s brains?”

Interior decorator:  “I got you, fam.”


I’ve never identified so strongly with a plush bulldog before.


If you’re high right now, do NOT start thinking about how on earth they got curtains with the exact same print as the wallpaper.


Bedroom number one.  I’m just going to note all the mirrors and then refrain from further comment.


Bedroom number two.  More statuary, more mirrors, plus some black velvet.  I would probably go to Las Vegas a lot more if it still looked like this.


Just looking at all the figurines crowded on these stairs is giving me anxiety.  (Major points for the purple carpeted walls, though.)


If you’ve always dreamed of running an underground, off-the-books bingo parlor, this is the house for you.


Life is too short to not have your own custom-made monogrammed toilet paper.


A thousand years from now, they’re going to think this is a photo of some elaborate religious ritual.


Oh, but hey – amid the nonstop barrage of kitsch, here’s a practical feature of the house.  It has a heated pool out back, so you can throw on your leopard-print bathrobe (if you live here, you have to own a leopard-print bathrobe) and have a nice warm swim in the middle of the Michigan winter.


They took this car on “Pimp My Ride” but the host just looked at it and said, “Can’t help you, it’s already at maximum.”  (The house comes with not one but two cars – a 1966 Cadillac, and a 1974 Lincoln.)


This room is when I went from “wow, it’s so great that this house comes with so much amazing stuff” to “wait a second, are they just too lazy to clean out all their old junk?”


So there you have it folks. America’s wackiest house and all of it’s belongings can be yours for $550,000. Jump on it.



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