McMansions are perceived by some as the answer for a "Supersize Me," SUV society that subscribes to the notion that bigger is better and that all of ones extended family—regardless of whether they are still alive—must fit neatly into ones abode, even though there are an average of only 2.5 inhabits per property in the U.S. Proponents of these mini-castles say they increase the value of neighboring homes, help with much-needed living accommodations and are inevitable. As urban and suburban space becomes scarce, McMansions will pop up in much the same way as "more compressed" Europe is dotted with row houses. The average size of U.S. homes has grown over the past 45 years from 1,140 to 2,225 square feet, according to a Harvard University study. The National Association of Home Builders reports that 21 percent of houses built in 2004 equaled or exceeded 3000 square feet. These statistics boost the "inevitability" argument. The "increase in property values" assertion succeeds or fails depending on various factors, such as where ones house is situated, the nature of the community and what type of buyers are looking for homes at the time. Are they gourmets or gourmands? Do they welcome McMansions or are they afraid of monsters? The last argument by McMansionites seems flawed. It is unclear how a gargantuan property accommodating two

Outraged neighbors in California, Connecticut, Illinois, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland and Massachusetts convene with local officials to discuss how to halt these stucco intruders, their goal being to implement moratoriums and anti-mansionization ordinances. Their arguments typically hinge both on objective and subjective factors. In addition to problems associated with a loss of privacy and sunlight, many seek to retain the character and architectural tone of their neighborhoods. They argue that the "David and Goliath" disparities and lack of pleasing curves on many of these "architecturally challenged" monstrosities make their communities less aesthetically appealing. Criticism of the "boxy" look is all too common.. But what if some people--such as McMansion shoppers--cherish the boxy look? Should government dictate taste, ruling whether a structure is a fairy princess, a plain Jane or an ugly stepmother? Are Building and Safety employees—usually ex-contractors—experts on charm and color coordination? Will art school graduates have to take their place? New ordinances could force homeowners to hire "housing stylists," in much the same way as Cher and Cameron Diaz employ wardrobe aides and makeup artists. Do we want to forfeit individuality, self-determination and the freedom to do as we please with our single family dwellings, all in exchange for neighborhood uniformity? After all, architectural consistency—as well as Big Brother—can be found in the condo complex or gated community. C, C & R's can impose fines on those who paint their doors red, have garage sales or allow their over-eating poodle to breach the "doggie weight limit." Local government must resist the temptation to formulate aesthetically-based rules; however, this does not preclude activist neighbors from boycotting certain builders and educating buyers about the merits associated with rejecting "trophy houses" comprised of cheesy materials. McMansion supply hinges on McMansion demand. Many builders construct quality products with style, grace and concern for residents of the area. They must be encouraged while less considerate developers should be brought into dialogue with local council members and the stakeholders in the community. In the end, it's not a matter of "much ado, " but a matter of much to do.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charlotte Laws is a member of the Greater Valley Glen Council, a Realtor with Prudential and an author. Her real estate website is www.YourTopBroker.com and her political website is www.CharlotteLaws.org For comments about this article, go to http://charlottelaws.typepad.com