Sure, we all remember our first childhood crush on a human, but what about the very first time your heart pitter-pattered for a house? No? Don't recall? Well, by all means, take a stroll down memory lane and peruse this list of our top 10 favorite homes from the movies that filled our VHS collections.
Ferris Bueller's Day Off, 1986
I was someone who had a vision board brimming with movie still printouts of the brick-clad classic center-hall Home Alone domicile, so it was a bit shocking that I also had such full-blown puppy love for Cameron's treehouse-like modern manor. When his father's prized Ferrari went crashing through the glass walls, I mourned the garage, not the car.
Now and Then, 1995
As a budding pre-teen, I didn't need an actual house. Blegh, who wants that? Give me a dollhouse-styled adobe nestled in the trees, far, far away from parental supervision, any day.
You've Got Mail, 1998
Kathleen Kelly's crafty and eclectic Upper West Side studio was basically Anthropologie before I knew Anthropologie was a thing.
The Parent Trap, 1961
Barbie's dream house? More like Hayley Mills' dream house. Decades prior to Lindsay Lohan wooing us with her English accent in The Parent Trap's 1998 remake, we were fantasizing about every architectural detail of the perfection that was the original film's mid-century hacienda.
Swiss Family Robinson, 1960
Another movie, another treehouse. As an adult, I can only think of the bevy of bugs that would crawl into my ears as I slept, but as a kid, this was the ultimate in cool.
Home Alone, 1990
So nice, I had to show it twice. From 1991 and on, no Christmas was ever good enough in my house because it wasn't spent at the McCallister residence in suburban Chicago. Joe Pesci was so right; it really was the silvah tuna.
Hocus Pocus, 1993
What kid didn't dream of having their very own staircase up to their very own tower? And to think the brooding Max didn't even seem grateful for his new rad digs.
Mrs. Doubtfire, 1993
This San Francisco dining room was the peak of sophistication, wasn't it? Sally Field's character was an interior designer, after all.
Father of the Bride, 1991
If I told you that "Father of the Bride house" was one of the first things I ever Googled, would you believe me? I'd swear on it, while standing in front of the dreamy colonial with a wrecking ball hurling toward my adolescent face. The white picket fence! The sprawling vines! What an American dream.
Director Penny Marshall must have tapped into the true hearts of the young to know that, if a 13 year old boy were to magically be transplanted into the body of an adult man and land gainful employment at a toy manufacturer, this is precisely how he would decorate his sprawling Manhattan loft. Who needs a sensible sofa when you have an inflatable Godzilla and indoor basketball hoop? Anyone up for a game of H.O.R.S.E?