Let's be real for a second. We’ve all spent way too much time staring at that iconic San Francisco Victorian, wondering how on earth three grown men, three girls, and a dog all fit in there without killing each other. Then Netflix brought us back for the sequel, and suddenly the Fuller House house layout became an even bigger architectural fever dream. If you actually look at the floor plan—like, really look at it—the math starts failing immediately.
The house is a character. Honestly, it’s arguably the most important character. But it’s a character that lies to you.
The "Fuller House" set, located on Stage 24 at Warner Bros. Studios, isn't a 1:1 replica of the original "Full House" set, though they tried their best to trigger our nostalgia. When the production team, led by production designer Jerry Dunn, rebuilt the interiors for the 2016 revival, they had to bridge the gap between 1987 and the modern era. What we got was a sprawling, inconsistent, and deeply charming labyrinth that defies the laws of San Francisco real estate and physics.
The First Floor: Where Physics Goes to Die
The living room is the heart of the show. You’ve got the alcove with the piano, the couch facing the non-existent fourth wall, and that famous blue door. But here is where the Fuller House house layout starts getting weird. In the real world, the "Painted Lady" at 1709 Broderick Street is actually quite narrow. In the show, the living room is wide enough to host a small circus.
Step into the kitchen. In the revival, it’s been updated with stainless steel appliances and a breakfast nook that feels slightly more "Pottery Barn" than the original's 80s kitsch. But look at the back stairs. The "Fuller House" kitchen features a secondary staircase that leads to the second floor. In reality, if you followed those stairs up based on where they are positioned in the kitchen, you’d likely walk straight into a wall or the middle of a hallway that doesn’t exist.
Then there's the mudroom and the garage. The garage is supposedly "downstairs," yet people seem to wander into the kitchen from the backyard or the side door with zero regard for the actual elevation of a San Francisco hill. It’s basically a TARDIS. It's bigger on the inside, and the rooms shift based on who needs to have a heart-to-heart talk with upbeat music playing in the background.
That Second Floor Hallway is a Mystery
The upstairs is where things get truly chaotic. We know the basic beats. DJ’s room (the old master bedroom), the kids' rooms, and the bathroom. But the Fuller House house layout expanded the universe.
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In the original series, Stephanie and Michelle shared a room. In "Fuller House," Jackson and Max take over the old "Joey’s room" or the "Jesse’s room" spots depending on the season’s needs. One of the biggest points of contention for floor plan nerds is the attic. To get to the attic—where Jesse and Becky lived and where Jackson eventually moves—you have to go up a set of stairs. But where are those stairs located? In some episodes, they seem to be tucked behind a door in the main hallway. In others, the geography feels entirely different.
- The Master Bedroom: DJ takes the big room. It has a walk-in closet and an ensuite bathroom that seems to occupy the space where a hallway should be.
- The Boys' Room: Max and Jackson share a space that feels surprisingly large for a house that is supposed to be cramped with three families.
- Tommy’s Nursery: This room seems to appear and disappear in the footprint of the second floor.
The hallway itself is a miracle of television production. It’s long. Like, suspiciously long. If you laid the second-floor plan over the first-floor plan, the second floor would be sticking out over the neighbor's yard by about fifteen feet.
The Attic and the Basement: The Infinite Buffer Zones
The attic is the crown jewel of the Fuller House house layout absurdity. When Jesse and Becky moved in during the original run, they turned it into a full apartment. It had a kitchen area, a living space, and a bedroom. In "Fuller House," it’s repurposed, but the sheer volume of the attic suggests the roof of 1709 Broderick Street is about twice as high as it actually is.
And don't get me started on the basement.
The basement is where Joey lived. It’s where the "Woodcast" happened. It’s where Kimmy Gibbler’s dance party dreams lived and died. In a real San Francisco Victorian, the "basement" is usually a garage and a small utility room. In the Tanner-Fuller home, the basement is a finished, soundproofed, multi-room suite.
Why the Layout Actually Works for TV
Television isn't about blueprints; it's about sightlines. The Fuller House house layout is designed for multi-cam filming. This means the rooms are "exploded." Walls are pushed back to allow for cameras, lighting rigs, and a live studio audience. This is why the kitchen island is so far from the stove and why the living room feels like a hotel lobby.
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Jeff Franklin, the creator, wanted a home that felt aspirational but lived-in. Even if the stairs lead nowhere and the windows don't match the exterior of the house, the layout facilitates "The Hug." You need a wide enough space for the whole cast to gather around the kitchen table. You need a staircase that allows for dramatic entrances and exits.
The inconsistency is actually a feature, not a bug. It allows the writers to "discover" a new closet or a nook whenever a plot point requires it. Remember when Steve lived in the basement? Or when Fernando was lurking in the side house? The house expands to fit the ego of whoever is guest-starring that week.
The San Francisco Reality Check
If you went to San Francisco today to buy the house featured in the exterior shots, you’d be looking at a price tag upwards of $5 million. At that price, you aren't getting a magical infinite basement. You're getting a cramped, vertical living space with drafty windows and a lot of stairs.
The real 1709 Broderick Street house is about 3,125 square feet. It has 4 bedrooms and 3.5 bathrooms. While that sounds big, it’s nowhere near the sprawling mansion the Fuller House house layout suggests. The real interior is much more modern and "narrow" than the wide-open sets we see on screen. For instance, the real house doesn't have a giant staircase right in the middle of the entry hall that leads to a massive landing; it has a much more traditional, side-aligned Victorian staircase.
Practical Insights for Superfans
If you're trying to map this out for a Sims build or just a hobby, stop trying to make the windows match. They won't. The exterior of the house has a bay window on the left side, but the interior set puts the "alcove" in a way that doesn't align with the street view.
Instead, focus on the "zones."
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- Zone A (The Social Hub): Living room, kitchen, and the "nook." This is the ground floor.
- Zone B (The Private Quarters): The second floor with at least four distinct bedroom doors, though we only ever see inside three regularly.
- Zone C (The Overflow): The attic and basement. These are the "apartments" within the house.
To truly understand the Fuller House house layout, you have to accept that it is a dreamscape. It’s a physical representation of 90s comfort, updated with 2020s sensibilities. It doesn't need to make sense because its only job is to make you feel like you're home.
Next time you watch an episode, pay attention to the door next to the refrigerator. It's supposed to be a pantry, but people walk through it like it’s a major thoroughfare. Or look at the backyard—the "backyard" that somehow has enough room for a giant patio and a play area, despite being in one of the densest neighborhoods in America.
How to Apply This to Your Own Space
You don't need a magical TV set to get the Tanner vibe. The key to the Fuller House house layout isn't actually the square footage—it's the "multipurpose" nature of every room.
- Create "Conversation Pits": Use your furniture to face inward. The Tanner living room works because no one is ever just staring at a TV; they are staring at each other.
- The Power of the Nook: If you have a corner, put a bench in it. The breakfast nook is the most used set in the show because it forces intimacy.
- Maximize Vertical Space: If you can't go out, go up. While you might not have a Jesse-style attic, using high shelving and lofts can mimic that "tucked away" feeling.
The house is a mess of architectural lies, but it’s a beautiful mess. It’s a testament to the fact that "home" isn't about where the walls are, but how many people you can cram inside them before someone starts a catchphrase.
Actionable Next Steps:
- Analyze your own floor plan: Identify "dead zones" in your home that could be repurposed into a "nook" for better social interaction, similar to the Tanner kitchen.
- Audit your furniture placement: Move your primary seating away from the walls to create a more "centralized" living area that encourages conversation rather than just screen time.
- Research Victorian architecture: If you're genuinely interested in the real-world constraints of these homes, look into "San Francisco Victorian floor plans" to see how architects actually solved the narrow-lot problem in the late 19th century.