Liberal Talk Radio

I am studiously original — and I take my originality very seriously. Which is why it makes me so so so so so mad when my neighbors copy my inimitable style and impeccable taste:

“Farmhouse with an edge” was the request we gave to our architect, George Sweeney, who is from Palos Verdes Estates, and our interior designer, Tim Clarke of Santa Monica. I had collected pictures from design magazines for more than a decade, organizing them into notebooks with titles like Fireplaces, Bookcases and Lighting. After countless design meetings and one and a half years of dusty construction, we’re now very happy with our home.

“I really love this,” said a fellow mother at my children’s school. “This is exactly what I want!” She was surveying the open kitchen family room, which has a 24-foot ridge beam skylight, wide plank heart pine floors and a stone fireplace inspired by a picture of a 16th-century wall. I had invited her over after recommending my design team for her building project. But she soon ruled out my architect and contractor, partly because of scheduling and cost. Hiring my designer seemed to be out of the question.

“Would you mind if I come back to go over what you did?” the mother asked. “It’s the exact style I love. I love the soapstone and the bead board.”

Having paid our designer a huge fee — and having traipsed all over the city searching for the perfect materials — this idea left me completely cold. Memories of hitting every stoneyard in the city in search of just the right kitchen counter, making endless samples of stain for the pine floor — all came flooding back. So did the weeks of indecision, inviting friends over to help with paint samples. Not to mention the years of collecting pictures. It just seemed unfair. [Emph. added to underscore irony]

Why there oughta be a law! In fact, there is somewhat of a law — the problem is that it doesn’t go far enough to prevent my peers from vulgarly cribbing from my keen, keen doorknob prowess:

Indeed, those who don’t find imitation the highest form of flattery may sue. After Fred Sands, a real estate magnate from Los Angeles, embarked on the design of a $20 million Bel Air home, two of his architects spotted a remarkably similar Tuscan villa under construction nearby.

His architect, William Hablinski, filed suit against the owners of the “copycat house” in a federal court in 2003, alleging copyright infringement. Last April, a jury awarded Mr. Hablinski $5.9 million after finding that one of his former employees had conspired with the defendants to copy the plans. A judge, though, recently granted a retrial on the amount of damages. The suit was based on the Architectural Works Copyright Protection Act of 1990, which gives copyright protection to buildings.

But what about the hundreds of smaller decorating decisions, things like doorknob choices? Roger Behle Jr., one of Mr. Hablinski’s lawyers, says that while design plans can be protected by copyright laws, people rarely file suit over their countertop and paint choices. “If you have yellow drapes and then your neighbor comes over and buys yellow drapes, that’s not copyright infringement.” he said.

Still, it can be irritating. It took Michelle Dewey, the mother of one of my daughter’s water polo teammates, more than two years to build a 6,300-square-foot “Old World French-style” home in La Canada Flint-ridge, Calif. “I’m a perfectionist,” she said. “If I’m looking for doorknobs, I want the best doorknobs in the country.”

She raced all over the area, visiting some stoneyards up to 10 times trying to find the perfect slab of marble. Then, recently, she said, a friend who was about to remodel came over and said, “I want those and those and those.” The friend, who is using the same contractor, explained that she isn’t very picky and would just tell the contractor to “give me whatever Michelle has,” Ms. Dewey recalled.

This was upsetting. “I labored over my decision-making,” Ms. Dewey said. “Everyone wants to know where everything comes from, like it’s my job to tell them.” Now, she says, her contractor knows not to send people over to see the house.