Knowledge of the basics holds its value for a while. Knowledge about specific products is different—markets are constantly changing, and some home manufacturers have exited the market, merged, or changed ownership. Paradigm shifts—currently “energy saving” is the golden calf of them all—are reshaping the relationships between solid construction and timber frame builders. This year being a multiple of seven, it was time for me to get an overview of the market for the first time this decade.
I didn’t rely solely on names familiar from past years but also included portals promising brochures from multiple providers at once. A colorful mix of solid and timber frame builders. Such a journey can be quite an experience. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been keeping a sideways eye on the market all along, so I was aware that much from “back then” about “companies” (brands/names) and what was “typical” for them can be forgotten: recognizable names with “brand value” alone, like Bugatti or Grundig, have changed ownership so fundamentally that, apart from their reputation, nothing remains the same—at least among prefabricated home builders. But since the trend suite of Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW funding has refreshed their model ranges, I finally had to take a broad “full blood count” of the market again.
Most providers manage to send out information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five business days. Just over a quarter of them lag behind, as their brochure mailing logistics take a few days longer than the eager regional sales reps emailing to know when they can finally deliver their pitch. The brochures from solid construction companies are quite amusing—I often feel like I’m at a “Chinese” or “Italian” restaurant: certain options appear on everyone’s menu, but each with a different number. “Sweet and sour duck” and “salami pizza” are everywhere. The computer-generated drawings of happy building families all look alike, and lo and behold, reverse image searches prove it: you find their “building proposals” under one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers’ offerings. Only sometimes not made from aerated concrete (or other monolithic materials), but built as “composite systems.” After all, there are vegan lasagnas, too.
Particularly embarrassing is that the same providers’ reference photo galleries on their websites show a wider range of customer houses, which would have been much better suited as building proposals. And typically, none admit to licensing designs from others, even though customers driving their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra probably couldn’t care less.
Apart from that, the market generally follows three approaches: sending information as a single brochure; a two-track approach with a picture brochure for everyone and a technical supplement as an insert; and a third variant combining pictures and technical details but split into separate brochures by product line. The majority opted for quick delivery of manageable information packs in all three cases. Many also offer a thicker brochure in addition, but the initial info packages already reveal fairly clearly whose offer you definitely want to avoid.
These small brochures have almost become part of the family, holding a fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, “long awaited, eagerly desired” (I hear Dalida singing), a hefty 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages. The postman’s wheezing on the last step was quickly explained: what follows made me ponder whether this is failed advertising or simply reality satire. Because in those 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages, there is absolutely n.o.t.h.i.n.g! !
Well, not literally nothing, although that would have been a nice idea—a thick notebook for scribbling your own ideas, with the last page saying “Here we are—ready to build for you!”
But here, the “nothing” is of a different kind: the book is, to put it mildly, content-wise very light. Despite its impressive thickness, only its prominent sponsor is thicker. Right at the beginning, it raves about the author being a satisfied homeowner, along with many others—now tens of thousands. The company was once in deep trouble, near closure, then a new CEO came, and since then it has been moving up and forward, far into the future—mentally at least, nearly in the 25th century. If desired, you can build an entire village with them, with other families too. Full of houses from the future, mentally ultra-modern. I would live in the rear building above my car-sharing electric vehicle charging station. Possibly above my own medical practice. I could sneak in discreetly via a separate staircase at the side delivery entrance. And there would even be room for grandma. Well, at least a small consolation.
Flipping through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for one significant achievement: the manufacturer actually managed over 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages to avoid giving me any information on such mundane details as wall construction, even brief excerpts of performance specifications, or anything substantially meaningful. A dozen floor plans are scattered throughout, some with area measurements and even occasional exterior wall lengths.
I am overwhelmed—but not impressed, and certainly not informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer’s marketing team about a great sales psychology effect: among several roughly equivalent products, the one that reaches the customer first gains the “home advantage.” Being last, especially when the race is already called off—the last in a six-day race doesn’t get unlimited time for the first lap—cannot be compensated for by paying the largest sum to the catalog printing house.
After this textbook example of a colossal failure, I now have to ask: how did your search for information go? How many (or how few) providers managed to give you at least an approximately shared definition of “useful, decision-supporting information,” and where did providers most miss the mark in giving you good reasons to check the mailbox with answered questions?
https://www.instagram.com/11antgmxde/
https://www.linkedin.com/company/bauen-jetzt/
I didn’t rely solely on names familiar from past years but also included portals promising brochures from multiple providers at once. A colorful mix of solid and timber frame builders. Such a journey can be quite an experience. The highlight came today, but more on that later.
I have been keeping a sideways eye on the market all along, so I was aware that much from “back then” about “companies” (brands/names) and what was “typical” for them can be forgotten: recognizable names with “brand value” alone, like Bugatti or Grundig, have changed ownership so fundamentally that, apart from their reputation, nothing remains the same—at least among prefabricated home builders. But since the trend suite of Passive House / Energy Saving Ordinance / KfW funding has refreshed their model ranges, I finally had to take a broad “full blood count” of the market again.
Most providers manage to send out information brochures averaging about 20 pages within four to five business days. Just over a quarter of them lag behind, as their brochure mailing logistics take a few days longer than the eager regional sales reps emailing to know when they can finally deliver their pitch. The brochures from solid construction companies are quite amusing—I often feel like I’m at a “Chinese” or “Italian” restaurant: certain options appear on everyone’s menu, but each with a different number. “Sweet and sour duck” and “salami pizza” are everywhere. The computer-generated drawings of happy building families all look alike, and lo and behold, reverse image searches prove it: you find their “building proposals” under one of the well-known aerated concrete manufacturers’ offerings. Only sometimes not made from aerated concrete (or other monolithic materials), but built as “composite systems.” After all, there are vegan lasagnas, too.
Particularly embarrassing is that the same providers’ reference photo galleries on their websites show a wider range of customer houses, which would have been much better suited as building proposals. And typically, none admit to licensing designs from others, even though customers driving their Sharan / Galaxy / Alhambra probably couldn’t care less.
Apart from that, the market generally follows three approaches: sending information as a single brochure; a two-track approach with a picture brochure for everyone and a technical supplement as an insert; and a third variant combining pictures and technical details but split into separate brochures by product line. The majority opted for quick delivery of manageable information packs in all three cases. Many also offer a thicker brochure in addition, but the initial info packages already reveal fairly clearly whose offer you definitely want to avoid.
These small brochures have almost become part of the family, holding a fixed place on the coffee table. The latecomer arrived today, “long awaited, eagerly desired” (I hear Dalida singing), a hefty 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages. The postman’s wheezing on the last step was quickly explained: what follows made me ponder whether this is failed advertising or simply reality satire. Because in those 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages, there is absolutely n.o.t.h.i.n.g! !
Well, not literally nothing, although that would have been a nice idea—a thick notebook for scribbling your own ideas, with the last page saying “Here we are—ready to build for you!”
But here, the “nothing” is of a different kind: the book is, to put it mildly, content-wise very light. Despite its impressive thickness, only its prominent sponsor is thicker. Right at the beginning, it raves about the author being a satisfied homeowner, along with many others—now tens of thousands. The company was once in deep trouble, near closure, then a new CEO came, and since then it has been moving up and forward, far into the future—mentally at least, nearly in the 25th century. If desired, you can build an entire village with them, with other families too. Full of houses from the future, mentally ultra-modern. I would live in the rear building above my car-sharing electric vehicle charging station. Possibly above my own medical practice. I could sneak in discreetly via a separate staircase at the side delivery entrance. And there would even be room for grandma. Well, at least a small consolation.
Flipping through to the last chapter was not worth it, except for one significant achievement: the manufacturer actually managed over 2.7 kilograms (6 pounds) and 364 pages to avoid giving me any information on such mundane details as wall construction, even brief excerpts of performance specifications, or anything substantially meaningful. A dozen floor plans are scattered throughout, some with area measurements and even occasional exterior wall lengths.
I am overwhelmed—but not impressed, and certainly not informed.
Apparently, no one told the manufacturer’s marketing team about a great sales psychology effect: among several roughly equivalent products, the one that reaches the customer first gains the “home advantage.” Being last, especially when the race is already called off—the last in a six-day race doesn’t get unlimited time for the first lap—cannot be compensated for by paying the largest sum to the catalog printing house.
After this textbook example of a colossal failure, I now have to ask: how did your search for information go? How many (or how few) providers managed to give you at least an approximately shared definition of “useful, decision-supporting information,” and where did providers most miss the mark in giving you good reasons to check the mailbox with answered questions?
https://www.instagram.com/11antgmxde/
https://www.linkedin.com/company/bauen-jetzt/
It all started at the end of March 2016 in Lübeck on a so-called "Immomeile" organized by the local newspaper. The townhouse had just been sold, we had a plot of land, and we were living in a rental property at the time, but the house planning began with a builder from Rostock who was exhibiting there. The bungalow model called Blue Aster caught our eye. There were only a few brochures—just a simple four-page foldout—but a detailed construction description was provided as a photocopy, along with a professional representative who gave us a thorough cost estimate for an Aster on our plot. He had a strong position for a long time. However, one doesn’t just spend $200,000 like that, so we had to let it sit for a while. Then I registered on a portal and received tons of brochures from various major companies in the industry: Viebrockhaus, Fingerhaus, Schwörerhaus, Heinz von Heiden, Scanhaus Marlow, Bien Zenker, Stollhaus, among others. Followed by calls from regional representatives. Most of these quickly followed the usual path — either far too expensive (we were already using the Rostock offer as a benchmark), not very convincing, or both, plus annoying sales agents badmouthing their competitors. (If you build with this or that company, you’re in for a surprise...) I don’t like that kind of approach. What remained on the table were Scanhaus — honest brochures, not very glossy, but clear information, including price lists and construction descriptions — Stollhaus Schleswig, Team Massiv Büdelsdorf, and, of course, the Rostock builder. Summer was approaching, June. We decided to set brochures aside for a moment — they tend to lock you in — and think independently about what we wanted. Well, not completely aside… they were still there. Our goals became clearer with the help of a good friend. The idea of managing everything without any loan, paying in cash, was discouraged by him. He said it would be too small, too cramped, and with interest rates around 1.5%, taking a loan was unnecessary. He was right. At Scanhaus we then discovered their particular proposal: a bungalow with a studio truss, steeper roof pitch, and stairs — instead of just a crawl space for expansion, offering either an attic expansion or a basement alternative. Yes, that was it. The Aster was out — it only had a 25-degree roof pitch and, being very square, would look like a stubby dwarf with a steep roof. We went on vacation first, to let things settle. Nothing would be lost by waiting. There was still another idea lingering somewhere in the back of our minds: the possibility of buying an existing property cheaply that would suit us well. So we followed real estate portals, listened around, checked obituaries, told our house bank, “If you hear of anything, call us…” but nothing happened. In our building area, there were already quite a few houses. Who were the others building with? One had chosen Scanhaus — that goes fast but is also simpler stuff, I thought, let’s skip that. These walls stuffed with fiberglass insulation boards we did not want; my wife especially didn’t. She wanted to go with Specht on Fehmarn, a local builder that many people, including our children, had built with. Ok. Appointment in July. He had neither brochures nor a website, just an initial meeting where he explained what and how he builds and asked what we wanted. He sketched, looked at the Scanhaus Marlow concept with the stairs, liked it, and said, “I’ll make you an offer with a fixed price for plaster and brick.” Ok? The offer came in, the price was below Scanhaus and below the Aster, only the floor plan was terrible. But from around early August it was clear: we would build with him, but we had to get him to change the floor plan. However… phone calls back and forth, no breakthrough idea yet. It must be known that Scanhaus had set a limit that did not fit our land, due to the 570 sqm (6,135 sqft) plot size and a permitted floor area ratio of 0.25. We couldn’t use an L-shaped bungalow design. We wanted four rooms all on one level, no open kitchen, no bathtub, a utility room large enough for storage, and a guest toilet. All of this on a maximum of 135 sqm (1,453 sqft) foundation slab plus terrace. Then we found online, from a general contractor in Lübeck, exactly the floor plan we were looking for. I called him. Could we use it? Even if we were not building with him? “Where are you building?” he asked. I answered. “Ok, that’s too far for me, take it,” he said. “No problem!” That was it. The Specht draftsman tweaked some details, the plan was set, final meeting on September 19, 2016. We went through the construction description, agreed on savings here, some extras there, and a clear calculation of additional costs. We shook hands. Done. There was no signature, just a handshake. We took this to the bank, funding was approved at a fixed 1.25% interest rate. Call to the general contractor — submit the building permit / planning permission application; with financing in place, everything was perfect. Brochures? All gone — except the Scanhaus Marlow one, which carried the idea we had searched for so long. That one stays as a keepsake. Karsten
You can simply find an architect and ask them all the truly pressing questions that prefab home suppliers often cannot answer. The architect develops, designs, and advises, while the prefab home supplier’s goal is to sell – individual customer requests tend to be more of an obstacle in that process.
The high-quality models from some prefab home suppliers, which are also architecturally and energetically interesting, are already priced in a range that makes having a project realized by an architect an attractive option.
The high-quality models from some prefab home suppliers, which are also architecturally and energetically interesting, are already priced in a range that makes having a project realized by an architect an attractive option.
Wpic, that’s just theory. A custom architect-designed house will always be more expensive than a standard one. Why would anyone choose that option unless there is a very specific situation?
Right now, architects are having great difficulty finding contractors willing to work with them on their tenders. The few contractors who still participate in these tenders charge accordingly high prices. This is not a myth. Recently, we had to professionally plan the extension of an old building to include three offices, storage space, restrooms, and a small kitchen, all in compliance with historic district regulations. The architect’s fee was $600,000. After serious negotiations, it dropped to $470,000. The same design executed by a general contractor was fixed at $305,000. The architect’s fee alone accounted for $60,000.
Right now, architects are having great difficulty finding contractors willing to work with them on their tenders. The few contractors who still participate in these tenders charge accordingly high prices. This is not a myth. Recently, we had to professionally plan the extension of an old building to include three offices, storage space, restrooms, and a small kitchen, all in compliance with historic district regulations. The architect’s fee was $600,000. After serious negotiations, it dropped to $470,000. The same design executed by a general contractor was fixed at $305,000. The architect’s fee alone accounted for $60,000.
Nordlys schrieb:
Wpic, that is just theory. A custom-designed house by an architect will always be more expensive than a standard model. Why would anyone choose that unless it is a very specific situation?
.Because price is not the main criterion for everyone when choosing a provider. It is perfectly fine if that is the case for you, but you don’t have to portray everyone with different priorities as irrational or unrealistic.
I don’t either. I’m just describing what’s there. Drive through a new housing development and see who is building with whom and how many architect-designed houses there are. For almost everyone, costs are an important factor. Only a small fortunate few can consider them secondary. They are not out of touch, but they represent a minority whose situation cannot be applied to others.
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