house proud; The social world is staging a backlash against the McMansions of America.

Byline: William Norwich

The topic of conversation over tomato aspic and chicken salad at a lunch party last weekend was why rich people, especially the most newly minted, aren't more inspiring when it comes to their real estate.

In other words: the "McMansion" problem. Beyond the offense their groaning size gives from all directions, why would people who can afford anything choose to live in such (monster) cookie-cutter predictability? Is modern status measured only by how much space we take up? Surely with all the information and experience available today, we can expect a higher aesthetic yield.

"We live in perilous, fearful times," the garden designer Edwina von Gal observed. "For centuries, people set their houses back on the land so they could see their enemies coming. Now rich people want fortresses that overwhelm their property. These McMansions are like walled cities!"

But happily I can report an anti-McMansion movement thrives. Like the mood in fashion-self-expressive luxury, one-of-a-kind and anti-bling-the best-dressed houses of best-dressed people are those where individuality reigns.

In terms of trends, wallpaper is back, especially documented historical patterns from Adelphi Paper Hangings, located in The Plains, Virginia (504/253-5367). Aquariums are popular, too; Eugenie Niven's decoration for Patricia and Garrit Lansing includes a tremendous aquarium dividing the space between kitchen and dining room-grand, yes, but nothing akin to that of Candy Spelling, who, one hears, changes the fish in her Beverly Hills tank to match the various color motifs of her dinner parties.

In country houses, devoted foodies now want proper larders, stone-floor and marble-shelved cool storage for eggs, vegetables, cheeses, and roasts that will retain the flavor of food much better than a refrigerator.