Jourdan Fairchild — Why this city, this neighborhood, and this home

THIS CITY

Following the story of our renovation will be most fulfilling with a bit of background on our family and what brought us to this place at this point in time.

It’s safe to say that this home renovation is NINE years in the making. Nine years of a marriage that has survived 5 moves, endless house projects, medical school, residency, miscarriages, the birth of two babies, and several career pivots.

Andrew and I met in New York City in 2009: he was a 9th grade biology teacher and I was a national magazine editor. Big city life was the only life for us, thankyouverymuch. But after 7 years, Andrew decided to switch careers and become a doctor, which meant moving to Chicago in 2012 for four years of medical school before eventually moving to Durham in 2016 for his residency program. I was pregnant, my parents lived down the road in Raleigh, and we could actually semi-afford life on a resident’s salary. Did we mourn the big-city food/freedom/responsibility-free lifestyle of our 20’s? 100 percent yes. But as the end of residency neared, we evaluated life goals and loan repayment plans. It made sense to stay close to family where the cost of living was reasonable.

As a radiation oncologist, Andrew treats cancer with radiation and his field is relatively small (there are about 5,000 practicing “rad oncs” in America). Only a few jobs open each year. After determining he didn’t want to do research forever—a requirement of jobs at many teaching hospitals—he started looking at private practices in college towns across America. Winston-Salem wasn’t a city really on our radar—I was worried it might feel too small and Southern for us. I had briefly lived in a nearby town (Lexington, North Carolina) for a few years as a kid, and my Dad spent most of his childhood here (see: paper boy pictured below, who spent his daily earnings at the first Krispy Kreme (pre-chain) for two hot glazed doughnuts and a milk). So naturally when we told my folks that Andrew was interviewing, Dad was thrilled. I could sense it felt very full circle for him to imagine his youngest child moving to his childhood city. He’d been gone long enough that I felt like we could carve out our own life here. Plus we’d have at least one set of grandparents 1 ½ hours away—easy for weekend visits.

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The new job checked all of the other boxes as well: a well-respected practice, started decades ago by 4 female radiation oncologists (a fact I love). The hours are reasonable, the people are incredibly kind, and he’d be mostly treating prostate cancer, which was his top choice.

When the job was offered to him last summer, he accepted.

THIS NEIGHBORHOOD

In preparation for residency ending in July, we started stalking local real estate listings in March. Here was our basic wish list:

*Older home with great bones
*Located in a vibrant, progressive, non-cookie-cutter neighborhood with kids
*Decent (but not enormous) square footage
*A yard of some sort (again, doesn’t have to be huge)

We were open in terms of the home’s architectural style, knowing that we would be renovating and also because we truly love so many home styles. One of our biggest shared passions is home design, and we’ve rarely met a house project we didn’t love completing together, sometimes when pregnant (see below). Although this fireplace might be my favorite. We almost bought a true fixer upper at the start of residency, but I put the brakes on it. Five years later, the timing felt right to bring on the dated kitchens and fugly bathrooms!

Of course there were some heartbreaks along the way. There was this one that got away. I loved how spacious it felt, the MCM lines, the yard. SIGH. It really felt like a slam dunk and a natural fit for my personal design style. But when it was off the market by the end of day, we had no choice but to move on. I now think the universe was making us wait for a reason.

We also considered this home, which is charming and has so much potential. But after some solid brainstorming, we felt overwhelmed by all of the projects it needed (which in retrospect, sounds laughable) and could’ve easily priced ourselves out of the neighborhood—investing more than anyone would be willing to pay down the road.

THIS HOME

When we spotted the Victorian, I set up a showing ASAP. The home is located in the Washington Park neighborhood, a historic district of about 25 city blocks overlooking downtown. Hundreds of years ago, the land was used by the Moravians (more on them later) as the city’s hunting grounds because it was thought to be too steep for development. Eventually, a streetcar line was introduced and homes began popping up in a range of architectural styles—plenty of Craftsmens, Colonials, Victorians. The neighborhood and the park within the neighborhood went through a few name iterations, and the history is one that full of racial tension over the years and oppression of black residents. I’ll be sharing more of that story as I learn more myself.

This particular Victorian was grand and beautiful, perched high on a hill with a big wrap-around porch. But it needed some major TLC—and not just updating the rooms. We’re talking new-floorplan-type of changes to fix serious issues like a sloped back half of the house. At some point (maybe 1950’s, 60’s?) the home was broken apart into two separate units, the ceilings were lowered to conserve heat, and the fireplaces concreted over. But on our first walk-through, I immediately envisioned what it could be with the right renovations.

But were we really the people to save it?

If you asked my husband, he’d say yes. If you asked me, I would’ve said no. The truth is, I shed lots of tears thinking about this home. I thought about how easily we could pour all of our money into something that ultimately we didn’t love. I thought about how hard the process would be, how easy it would be to screw up. About how I could fail as a designer. About how we all could not love it in the end.

The risks just felt too big, I thought.

But there’s something about just moving forward with a decision and being partnered to a person who believes it’s possible. I knew we’d need a house regardless, it did check a lot of our boxes, and I also knew that many houses could make us happy. Here was the worst house on the best block. The diamond in the rough.

I believed it deserved to be saved.

Although I feel more confident in our decision than ever before, I still know anything can happen. And so we move forward with our fingers crossed and our hearts and minds open to whatever lies ahead. We have endured and persisted and pivoted before. I imagine this will be no different.