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taging has moved from a luxury perk to a market necessity in Manhattan and Brooklyn. When a one‑ or two‑bedroom unit costs around a million dollars, buyers no longer tolerate “quirky” or “lived‑in” décor. They expect listing photos that showcase clean, neutral spaces—often achieved through digital overlays rather than costly physical set‑ups. A recent New Yorker interview highlighted how an agent now digitally transforms even the most modest rental into a “West Elm‑y” showcase, a stark contrast to the days when a simple bouquet of bodega roses sufficed.
The shift is driven by exposure to home‑renovation shows, influencer content, and the endless scroll of Zillow. Buyers now judge a property by its online presentation; a bold patterned wall or a Louis XIV‑style room can turn them away. Yet not every seller is willing to let go of their personal taste. Some view their Victorian furnishings or eclectic art as integral to the home’s identity and refuse to alter them. Others resist digital staging outright, fearing it will misrepresent the space to potential buyers. Brokers caution that over‑staging can backfire if the in‑person experience feels disingenuous.
In practice, brokers often have to convince owners to adopt a neutral aesthetic. One Park Slope condo, for example, featured purple‑gold walls, murals, and mismatched Victorian furniture. The owner, who had lived there since the 1980s, saw the décor as a life’s work. Despite the location’s desirability and a 1,100‑sq‑ft footprint, the listing received 1,900 online views but no calls. After the owner reluctantly repainted two bedrooms and allowed digital staging of the living‑dining area, the unit finally sold—though the original purple wall remained until the closing.
A Fidi one‑bedroom with skull‑and‑bone wallpaper presented a different challenge. The owner’s punk‑rock aesthetic was a selling point for a young finance professional, but the wallpaper shocked the mother of the buyer, who had come from India. The family ultimately decided to remove the wallpaper, illustrating how personal taste can clash with market expectations.
On the Upper East Side, a traditional one‑bedroom with a metal bar floor—intended as a mobility aid—drew criticism from every visitor. The family agreed to remove it after a few weeks of showings, recognizing its distraction. Similarly, a lower Fifth Avenue apartment with a “Lisa Frank” color scheme and snakeskin wallpaper was deemed too bold for most buyers. Even if the space was high‑end, the décor’s vibrancy deterred potential purchasers.
Tenants can also pose staging hurdles. A $5 million Washington Square unit was occupied by a family that had no housekeeper. The agent spent hours cleaning, removing food debris, and tidying unmade beds before each showing. In another case, a Tribeca tenant’s navy‑blue, worn bedding required the agent to bring fresh linens for every visit to present a polished look.
Art collectors sometimes resist decluttering. A Carnegie Hill pre‑war apartment owned by a fine‑art appraiser was saturated with dark, oversized paintings and extensive book collections. The owner insisted on preserving the collection, citing its historical value. The agent suggested removing half the art and books, adding contemporary staging pieces, and repainting to lighten the space. After a compromise, the apartment sold to a single woman in her early thirties at a price slightly below asking.
Across these stories, a common thread emerges: staging—whether physical or digital—helps align a property with buyer expectations and can accelerate sales. Sellers who cling to personal décor risk alienating prospects, especially when the market favors minimalism. While some clients may refuse to compromise, most find that a neutral, well‑presented space attracts more offers and often commands a higher price. The key is to balance the owner’s attachment with the market’s demand, using staging as a bridge rather than a gimmick.
