If one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, then Madeline Moore is living in the pot at the end of the rainbow.

Although some students shop for real estate using words such as “swimming pool” and “new appliances,” this third year fabric design major traded in the amenities of an apartment complex for the quaint and timeless beauty of a historic home.

“Last year the faucet wouldn’t run unless you got the handle at the perfect angle,” Moore said with a chuckle.

Despite the quirks, or perhaps because of the quirks, Moore couldn’t be happier in her humble abode.

“I’ve lived in old homes almost all my life,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine it any other way. There’s so much more character in a house like this.”

Constructed in the 1920s, the home was once a duplex with one living room and bedroom on each side, connected by a shared bathroom in between. There was no kitchen until around the 1970s.

“It’s called a pyramid house,” Moore said. “Pyramid houses originated in Georgia, just like shotgun houses originated in Louisiana.”

Madeline’s mother, interior designer Mercer Moore, has a lot of experience tracing the history of a house through discreet clues, meaningless to the untrained eye.

“You can tell the age by the framing around the doors and the height of the ceilings,” she said.

Architects at work during the Big Band era preferred to give tenants a little more head room than recent generations are accustomed to.”

Mercer also said the number of panels on the doors and the type of wood used in the floors are telling of a building’s history.

“Pine, which is really beautiful now, was used a lot back then because it was a cheaper wood,” Mercer said. “In a more expensive house, they would have put oak in the front and pine in the back. This house has pine all the way through.”

Other unique characteristics of the home include an original cast iron claw bathtub, a covered portal once used to hook up a pot-belly stove and, located about a foot and a half from the back stoop, a shed-like building that once was a general store.

“I’ve talked to people in the neighborhood that say they used to run up to the store to get a soda,” Madeline said.

Now used to store the campaign equipment of a local politician, the small building still rests so comically close to Moore’s house that you would think is was attached.

“There’s virtually no property line,” she said.