Totally get what you mean about nothing being square—my house is late ‘30s and every “right angle” is more of a suggestion. When I swapped out the old wood windows for vinyl, the trim was a headache. Ended up with a couple spots where the caulk has to do overtime, and there’s one corner in the dining room that still bugs me if I look at it too long.
But yeah, the drafts basically disappeared and I’m not missing the yearly scraping and painting. One thing I didn’t expect: the new windows made some of the old plaster look rougher by comparison. Guess nothing makes you notice wavy walls like perfectly straight window frames. Didn’t love having to trim down some sills either—old lumber is stubborn.
Still, I’d say it was worth it overall, even if my finish work isn’t magazine-ready. Curious if you ran into any weird gaps or had to shim with something creative? I used cedar shims and, uh, a few playing cards in one spot…
I ran into some weird gaps too, especially around the kitchen window. The walls just aren’t straight, and I had to get creative—ended up using composite shims and a couple of paint stir sticks when I ran out. I tried to use spray foam for insulation, but it expanded more than I expected and warped the frame a bit. Lesson learned there. Honestly, I’m still not sure if my caulk lines are up to par, but at least the drafts are gone. Those perfectly square frames really do make all the old plaster look like it’s melting... kind of highlights every imperfection.
Those perfectly square frames really do make all the old plaster look like it’s melting... kind of highlights every imperfection.
Yep, same deal here. I swear, the new windows made my 1920s walls look like they were built out of marshmallows. I tried using the “minimal expanding” foam but even that stuff has a mind of its own. At least you got the drafts sorted—my caulk lines look like a toddler did them, but hey, energy bills dropped. Worth it? Probably.
- Totally get where you're coming from—those crisp new frames really don’t play nice with old plaster.
- I’ve found a little imperfection actually adds some charm, but yeah, the foam can be a beast to wrangle.
- My caulk job looked rough too, but honestly, once the paint went on, nobody but me noticed.
- Lower bills make up for a lot... even if the walls do look a bit wavy now.
- In the end, comfort > perfection (at least that’s what I tell myself).
When I swapped out the windows in my 1920s bungalow, I wasn’t prepared for how much the walls would fight back. The vinyl frames looked great, but getting them to sit flush against the old lath and plaster was a whole saga. I tried to get everything perfectly square, but there’s only so much you can do when nothing in the house actually *is* square. Ended up with a few spots where the foam bulged out or the trim just wouldn’t sit right. Like you said, once it’s all painted, most folks don’t even notice—except me, staring at that one corner every time I walk by. Still, the house is way warmer now, so I’ll take a little character over drafty nights any day.
I tried to get everything perfectly square, but there’s only so much you can do when nothing in the house actually *is* square.
Man, that’s the story of every old house project, right? I swear my 1915 cottage was built with a ruler made of spaghetti. I ended up having to shim one window so much it looked like I was making a sandwich in the wall. Did you just use expanding foam around the frames, or did you try any of those fancy backer rods or other tricks? I always wonder if I’m missing something that would’ve saved me a headache.
I hear you on the “nothing’s square” thing—it’s like these old houses have their own idea of geometry. I replaced a couple windows in my 1920s bungalow last winter and pretty much every opening was a different flavor of crooked. I mostly used shims (a ridiculous number, honestly) and then low-expansion foam to seal things up, but I did try backer rod in one particularly weird gap where foam would’ve just blown out everywhere. It worked, but honestly, I’m not sure it made a huge difference compared to just being careful with the foam.
One thing I wish I’d known: don’t trust the old frame to be anywhere near plumb. I spent way too long trying to get the new window to match the old lines, but in the end, it just looked off. Sometimes you just have to pick what looks best to the eye and not worry so much about the level. Makes you appreciate modern construction… or at least wish for straighter walls.
I ran into the same thing with my place—1928, and nothing lines up. I was surprised how much I had to fudge things so the window looked right from inside, even if the level said otherwise. I kept worrying about long-term issues from not being perfectly plumb, but after a year, no problems yet. Kinda wild how much you have to trust your eyes with these old houses. Anyone else find the trim hides a multitude of sins?
Trim’s basically the makeup for old houses, right? I swear, I pulled off some ancient casing in my 1936 place and found gaps you could lose a screwdriver in. Slapped some new trim on, a bit of caulk, and suddenly it’s like nothing ever happened. I do sometimes worry about what’s lurking behind there, but after five years, no sagging or drafts.
Funny thing, I got obsessed with the level too—kept measuring and re-measuring until I realized the rest of the room isn’t square anyway. Ended up just making sure it looked straight to my eyes. Maybe not what the pros would do, but it works.
Anybody else notice the old plaster walls make everything a little wonky? Sometimes I think these houses are held together by hope and quarter-round.
Man, you nailed it with the “makeup” analogy—trim hides a multitude of sins. I’ve found stuff behind old trim that looked like a squirrel’s summer home. And yeah, those plaster walls never met a right angle in their lives. I stopped chasing level after my third window; if it looks good when you walk in, that’s good enough. Quarter-round and caulk are the unsung heroes, honestly.