I had a call this weekend from a multi-billionaire, one of Forbes richest men in the world, who was referred to me by a mutual friend and business acquaintance. Since I have a combination of hotel sales, a New York State Real Estate Salesperson's License, and my husband was once the Director of Sales and Marketing at The Plaza, I felt equal to the challenge of offering assistance.
The gentleman in question was in New York on business from Australia and happened by the Plaza Condominium development, formerly the Plaza Hotel, sad shell that it is now. His wife thought it would be nice to have an apartment near their friends who own a penthouse in the Sherry Netherlands across the street. Just in case they wanted to borrow a cup of sugar, I suppose.
This Australian gentleman is trying to decide between an apartment that is being offered at $6.5 million and one for $14.5 million. The difference is the bedrooms and library of the former are not facing the expensive forest of Central Park South. He is the most down to earth billionaire I have ever spoken with, though I admit not many call my 800 number on a regular basis. He said that, fortunately, he could afford the more expensive apartment. He just didn't want to feel foolish by overpaying at $6000 a square foot for his pied a terre. He will only be here a couple of weeks a year, after all. So, what did I think?
I assured him that there is no negotiation on prices at the Plaza condominium hotel. I also told him there are plenty of people from Dubai who are buying up those apartments on spec, since oil money is plentiful and the dollar is a real bargain. In any case, I assured him that the treeless views from the bedrooms in the back of the Plaza would allow quiet sleep, not assured from Central Park South. (I know this because our more humble apartment and office is, indeed, on the 16th floor overlooking Central Park South and all our rooms have views. Even our bathroom has a window, which our male guests do feel self-conscious about when using this spectacular windowed facility). But that is a whole other blog called "Ego."
So, when is enough, enough? When a triplex penthouse at the former Plaza Hotel sold this week for $56 million, you might think that would put a cap on New York City's euphoric rise in real estate mania. But trust me, this is just the beginning.
A year ago, would anyone have believed your "Home Sweet Home" could go for $6,100 a square foot? Are the trees in Central Park more stately, greener or more valuable because they are occupying space where high rises should be, and so command such an exorbitant price for respectfully gazing upon them?
The triplex is the line drawn in the sand. Or in this case, in the park dirt. Nothing is too expensive. Not even the penthouse that is now listed at the Pierre with sixteen rooms and at a pricetag of $70 million. The Australian gentleman is evaluating both Plaza apartments, though his wife is adamant about having her bed overlooking all that park greenery. They are flying back today to Melbourne on their private plane. I am waiting to hear what their decision will be, but just out of curiosity, since I wasn't the broker, alas. Personally, I think they would be much better off in a regular New York building, with more hedge fund people and fewer oil wells.
On the other hand, I am also left with a vague feeling that either a)I am not working hard enough, or else I could move down the block and swan about with all that oil-moneyed crowd and perhaps the one really nice billionaire Australian couple who speak English, or b)that our own apartment/office here at 240 Central Park South is one nifty place to live and work at a fraction of the cost of the foreign frenzy. And my husband, Terry Rufer, and I are native New Yorkers. That counts for something, even if we are from the Bronx and Staten Island respectively.
Either way, I wonder about Eloise, the former literary symbol of the days of the classic Plaza Hotel. The little girl was known to dart mischievously around the hotel halls in her reckless and charming youth. I wonder what Eloise would think of all this real estate frenzy. But mostly I wonder if she had a back bedroom...
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