Ever thought about swapping out just the guts of the old lock for something more reliable, but keeping the original faceplate and knobs? I’ve wondered if that’s a good middle ground, or does it mess with the vibe too much?
I’ve done the “Frankenstein lock” thing before—kept the pretty old knobs, swapped the insides for something that actually works. Honestly, nobody noticed unless they were a lock nerd. But does it bug you if the keyhole looks a little off-center after?
I get what you mean about the keyhole being a bit off-center after swapping parts around. It’s one of those things that’ll quietly nag at me every time I see it, even if nobody else notices. I’m pretty detail-obsessed though—like, if the escutcheon isn’t lined up perfectly, I’ll probably end up taking the whole thing apart and redoing it just for my own peace of mind.
Here’s a trick I’ve picked up: sometimes you can shim the lock body a little inside the door to get the keyhole more centered, especially if you’re working with older hardware and new internals. It doesn’t always work, depending on the tolerances, but I’ve managed to fudge things by a millimeter or two with some thin washers or even a bit of electrical tape as a spacer. Not exactly “by the book,” but it gets the job done. If you’re really worried about aesthetics, sometimes it’s worth tracking down an aftermarket retrofit kit—they make some surprisingly good ones now that let you keep the old faceplates but use modern cylinders.
That said, I totally get why people just live with it. The alternative is usually drilling new holes or even patching and refinishing the door, which can be a pain (and never quite matches if you’ve got old wood). I once spent an afternoon trying to get a 1920s mortise lock to play nice with a Schlage cylinder. Ended up with a slightly diagonal keyhole and just called it “character.” Nobody’s ever mentioned it except my brother-in-law, who’s one of those lock nerds you mentioned.
If it’s only off by a hair, I’d say don’t sweat it unless it’s going to bug you every time you walk past. But yeah, if you’re like me and those little details gnaw at you...might be worth fussing over for your own sanity.
Honestly, I’m right there with you on the detail-obsessed front. It’s wild how something as tiny as a slightly off-center keyhole can just burrow into your brain, even if nobody else ever notices. I’ve spent way too much time fussing over stuff like that—like, I’ll be halfway down the hall and suddenly remember the escutcheon is a hair off, and it’ll bug me until I go back and fix it. Drives my partner nuts.
That said, I think you’re spot-on about picking your battles. If it’s just a millimeter or two and you can live with it, great. But if you’re going to stare at it every day and it’ll slowly eat away at your soul, it’s worth taking the time to get it right. I’ve done the shim trick too (cardboard, tape, whatever’s handy), and honestly, sometimes “good enough” is just fine—especially if the alternative is wrecking a vintage door or spending hours patching and refinishing.
One thing I’d add—sometimes those little quirks end up giving a place character. I had a rental once where the lock was so crooked it looked like it was installed during an earthquake, but after a while, it just became part of the charm. You start to notice the bigger picture, you know? But if you’re the type who can’t let it go (and I totally get that), there’s no shame in fussing over the details. The satisfaction when everything lines up perfectly is real.
At the end of the day, it’s your space—you’re the one who has to live with it. If a tiny adjustment brings you peace of mind, go for it. If not, embrace the “character” and move on. Either way, you’re not alone in sweating the small stuff.
Drives my partner nuts.
You’re speaking my language. I swear, I’ve spent more time lining up strike plates than actually installing the locks themselves. My wife’s convinced I’ve got some sort of “crooked hardware radar”—I’ll be halfway through dinner and suddenly remember a hinge that’s 2 degrees off, and then it’s all I can think about.
But honestly, you nailed it with the “character” thing. I once worked on this old Craftsman where every door was a little out of square. At first it drove me up the wall, but after a while, you start to see the wonkiness as part of the house’s story. Still, if it’s gonna haunt your dreams every time you walk by... yeah, just fix it. Life’s too short to be tormented by a wonky keyhole.
Funny enough, I’ve had clients who notice nothing—like, their front door could be installed upside down and they’d shrug it off. Meanwhile, I’m losing sleep over a 1/16" gap. Go figure.
