I hear you on the old plaster and out-of-square openings—my house is from the 1920s, and I swear nothing is actually level. When I got quotes, the biggest shock was how fast installation costs ballooned once they saw the wavy walls and funky framing. The sales guy started talking about “custom jamb extensions” and “site-built casings,” which I didn’t even know were a thing until then. Materials were pricey, but it was all those little labor add-ons that really made my jaw drop.
I did think about going with cheaper vinyl windows just to keep things simple, but matching the original woodwork was important to me. The installer warned me that if I tried to save by skipping some of the prep work, I’d probably end up with gaps or drafts, especially since my openings weren’t standard sizes anymore. He wasn’t wrong—one neighbor cut corners and now has condensation issues every winter.
One thing that helped a bit was asking for an itemized breakdown in the quote. That way I could see exactly what was driving up the price—turns out, custom sills and extra flashing around the rough openings added more than I expected. If you’re handy (or have a friend who is), sometimes you can do some of the demo or trim work yourself to save a little.
Still, there’s something kind of satisfying about making those old windows work again instead of just slapping in new ones. They’re quirky, but they give the place character you just can’t fake with off-the-shelf stuff. Anyone else surprised by how much labor ends up costing compared to materials? For me it was almost a 60/40 split, which felt wild at first...
Yeah, those old houses really keep you guessing. Mine’s from the late 30s and I’m pretty sure the original builders just eyeballed half of it. When I did my windows a couple years back, I thought I’d budgeted enough, but the labor side crept up fast—way more than the actual windows. The guy doing the estimate spent half his time with a level, frowning at each opening, then started talking about “shimming out” and “custom millwork.” I probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Here’s what helped me keep things (sort of) under control:
Step one: I demo’d all the old trim and sashes myself. Messy job, but not rocket science, and it shaved a chunk off the labor line. Just be ready for surprises behind the old casings—mine had a bird’s nest in one spot.
Step two: I asked them to quote standard install vs. “full historic match.” Turns out, matching the original profiles was almost double the cost. I ended up doing a hybrid—wood windows with standard interior trim and just kept the original sills where they weren’t totally shot. Not perfect, but it kept some character without blowing the budget.
Step three: I got a written list of every “extra” before signing anything. Stuff like custom flashing, insulation, finish carpentry—those little add-ons stack up quick. I skipped some of the fancy stuff and just caulked and painted myself after they finished.
Honestly, I think labor’s always going to be the wild card with these old houses. Materials are expensive, sure, but it’s all the weird angles and hidden issues that really eat up time. If you’re even a little handy (or stubborn), doing some of the grunt work yourself is worth it. Just don’t expect anything to be square or easy... but that’s half the fun, right?
My split was almost 70% labor, 30% materials by the end. Not what I expected, but at least now my windows open without a crowbar and don’t whistle every time it’s windy.
That’s wild, I had almost the same experience with my 1928 place. I figured new windows would be expensive, but watching the crew try to square up each opening was something else—my walls are all over the place. Labor ended up way higher than I thought too, and I had to skip the historic trim to keep costs down. Did you run into any weird old insulation or just the bird’s nest? Mine had some ancient newspapers stuffed in there... kind of cool but also a pain.
Funny you mention newspapers—I found a bunch of old Sears Roebuck ads stuffed between the studs when we pulled the sashes. The insulation was basically non-existent, just some horsehair plaster and bits of what looked like sawdust in sacks. The real kicker for me was that none of my window frames were even remotely square, which meant every opening needed custom shimming and extra trim work. Labor hours doubled compared to what the estimator guessed. Materials were pricey, but it was definitely installation that blew up my quote.
That sounds about right—older homes are notorious for surprises behind the walls. I’ve been through similar headaches. When you said,
, I felt that in my bones. It’s wild how labor can balloon when nothing’s standard. In my case, materials were predictable, but installation was always where the budget went sideways. Those “little adjustments” add up fast. Definitely not what the estimator sees on a walk-through.none of my window frames were even remotely square, which meant every opening needed custom shimming and extra trim work
Totally relate to this—my place was built in the 50s, and when I started on the windows, I figured it’d be a straight swap. Nope. Every frame was a different size, and some were so out of whack I had to watch YouTube just to figure out how to shim them properly. Materials were pretty much what I expected, but the time (and patience) needed for all that custom fitting? That’s where my budget took a hit. If I did it again, I’d budget at least 25% extra for “surprises.” Live and learn, I guess.
Man, 50s houses are a whole adventure, aren’t they? You think you’re just swapping out glass and suddenly you’re a part-time carpenter, part-time detective. I’ve seen frames so crooked I wondered if the original builders just eyeballed it after lunch. Did you run into any weird old hardware or hidden surprises in the walls? Sometimes I swear those things are time capsules for lost screws and mystery brackets.
That detective bit is so true—I started pulling off trim in my place (built ‘54, I think) and found a random spoon wedged behind the old frame. No idea how it got there. As for weird hardware, half the screws looked like they were hand-forged. It definitely added hours to what I thought would be a simple swap... I’m still not sure if my quote was high because of the window itself or the “archaeological dig” part of the install.
That’s wild—never found a spoon, but I did stumble on an old toy car when I pulled my kitchen window. I’ve noticed with older homes, it’s almost always the labor that pushes the quote up, not just the window itself. Out-of-square frames, weird fasteners, and sometimes even lead paint... all that adds time and risk. Did they mention anything about insulation or air sealing in your quote? Sometimes that gets rolled in too, especially if the old frame’s a mess.
Yeah, labor’s where things get wild with old houses. I’ve seen quotes double just because the original frame was out of whack or full of weird surprises. Air sealing and insulation should absolutely be part of the conversation—if they’re not, you’ll feel it in drafts later. Sometimes crews try to gloss over that to keep the quote “simple,” but it’s way better to tackle it up front, even if it bumps the cost. Honestly, a perfect window doesn’t do much if the install’s sloppy or there are gaps around the frame.