Windows: which way do yours open?

Opening windows

Here’s a question. When you’re at home, how do your windows open? (The ones with hinges, not the Microsoft kind.)

If you’re from the UK, the answer seems obvious: outwards. You push them open. And when they need cleaning, someone comes round with a ladder to do the outside.

If you’re from France, the answer is just as obvious: inwards. You pull them open. And you clean both sides yourself.

If you’re French or British, you’ve almost certainly never stopped to think about it. Why would you? Your windows are just normal.

Normal they are not.

The window cleaner’s problem

Imagine you’ve built a thriving window-cleaning business in the UK. Thousands of customers, reliable income, a model that works. Time to expand into France: same service, a big market, an easy win.

Except your whole reason for existing has just disappeared. The need you thought was universal, getting at the outside of your windows, only exists because of how British windows open. Swing them inwards and anyone can clean both sides from the comfort of the kitchen.

French windows aren’t better than British ones, and neither is better than a sliding sash. They’re answers to different building traditions, climates and habits. French windows open inwards partly because of the French love of outside shutters: a window that swung out would hit them. None of them is the right way. Each is right where it is.

Building a British family’s chalet in France

We kept bumping into this throughout the build. The original plans had the toilets in their own little rooms, very French, and we moved them back into the bathrooms. But on the windows, we went with France.

Chalet Miage has 20 windows and doors, and they open inwards. They also tilt: turn the handle one way and the window swings open like a door, turn it the other and the top tips in a few centimetres for fresh air. The inward swing is what lets the shutters work. There will be twelve proper timber shutters, and on the west side the window surrounds are styled to match them. Every window and door has a made-to-measure metal sill, so rain runs away from the larch rather than into it.

The planning rules shaped them too. Saint-Gervais doesn’t allow walls of glass, so the windows are sized and spaced the traditional way, and the views come in framed rather than floor to ceiling.

What they’re made of

The frames are solid pine, the same warm timber look inside and out. The glazing is double, with toughened glass, a low-energy coating and warm-edge spacers. Because the sealed glass units are made down in the valley and fitted up the mountain, they’re specified for altitude, so the change in air pressure doesn’t make them bulge.

Most are standard tilt-and-turn windows, but a few are bigger:

• two lift-and-slide doors, 2.2 and 2.6 metres wide, that open the living space to the terrace
• two pairs of balcony doors
• an insulated front door with a five-point lock
• four fixed panes that let the light in where a window doesn’t need to open

What they cost

The windows and doors came to roughly €34,000 before VAT, including fitting and delivery. That works out at around €1,700 for each window or door. It’s not cheap, but in a chalet the windows do a lot of the work of keeping the warmth in.

What it means when you stay

If you’re coming from the UK, a few things are worth knowing:

• The windows open into the room. Keep the windowsill clear before you swing one open. For a bit of fresh air, tilt it instead: the top drops in a few centimetres and nothing on the sill gets knocked.
• The shutters are real. Close them at night and the bedroom goes properly dark, which is handy after a long day on the slopes or in the long summer evenings.
• You can clean both sides yourself. Not that we’re expecting you to.

Context is everything. It’s why we built a chalet that works for a British family, in a way that makes sense for Saint-Gervais.