Windows in Connecticut are often original wood sash in openings that have settled since the house was framed. Colonials in the hills still have cords, weights, and storms. Shore houses add salt that lifts paint off the sill and checks the muntins. A draft at the meeting rail in a New Haven three-family is as common as a rotten stool in a Greenwich cottage. Say which wall takes the weather.
Glazing that has fallen out, a sash cord that snapped, and a sill that is soft under the paint are three repairs, not one shopping list. Storms that do not sit tight trap water against the prime sash. Vinyl shoved into a crooked colonial opening and foamed in place leaves a cold frame and a wet wall cavity. Look at the apron inside for the brown line that says the water is already past the glass.
Odd sizes are the rule in houses that grew by wings. A stock unit that almost fits gets planed and then swells in August humidity until it will not latch. Brick openings in older city blocks need a real measurement. Shutters that are screwed to the wall do nothing for a storm and sometimes hide rot at the casing end. Ask whether the old trim stays.
Fog between two panes means the seal failed. Water on the room side of a single pane may be a steamy bath or a damp stone cellar, not a reason to rip out the elevation. That split matters. Houses on the immediate Sound take more wind and salt than a street one town inland. Say which one you are, because the sill life is not the same.
List the openings that stick, leak, or crumble, and say repair or replacement. Mention storms, shutters, and any well that fills with leaves and ice. One bad bay is a different job from a whole front. Have the town and the house style ready. Call the number on this page.