Feeding Frenzy
The annual ritual of January sales has descended on the market, with bidding wars breaking out all over town. Houses that languished for months, unloved, are being snapped up at astonishing (to me, at least) prices. If past history is a guide, all this fun will continue until late March or early April when some form of sanity will return.
New to the market
Several unique properties have been listed recently, including Reynwood Manor, Tamar Lurie’s listing on North Street. It’s a castle built in 1935 and completely renovated in 2001, filled with gracefully-sized rooms, winding corridors and, one hopes, secret passageways. It feels like a fun place to live, especially for a family with lots of kids. But those kids better have rich parents because the asking price is $15,900,000. For less fortunate children, Jean Ruggerio is offering 297 Round Hill Road for $6,525,000. I loved this house when it was on the market two years ago (for $2,000,000 less, but the present owners have done an enormous amount of renovation) and I still like it. It’s set way back from the road and has great views of its own pond. Seven bedrooms, eight baths, heated pool, all in a 1930’s mansion. Neat.
How Much Was that Dog in the Window?
Mention of the past selling price of Jean’s listing brings to mind a somewhat annoying tendency of some buyers (and even some agents) to focus on what a seller paid for his house some time in the past. There is nothing more irrelevant. I was showing one of my listings the other day when the buyer’s agent, in front of her customer, told me that the price was crazy “because I know how much they paid for this house”. I was a little taken aback, both because I think it unprofessional to disparage a house in front of the seller’s agent – we’re duty bound to either defend it or, at most, remain silent, so what’s the point? – and because I can’t imagine why a nine-year-old price has anything to do with a house’s current value. I won’t tell you what my grandmother paid for her house in 1957 (I don’t want your tears staining this column) but, if it ever comes time to sell it we’ll set its price by comparing it to similar houses then on the market and recent sales. What a seller paid for his house and even the size of the profit he’d like to make has no effect on the market value. Get over it.
Little Princesses
As I stroll through some of the larger offerings of the builder’s craft I’ve been struck by the elaborate suites being built as kiddie bedrooms. The rooms are positively palatial and the en suite, marble bathrooms match them in expensive detail and size. Children who grow up in such rooms had better be very, very successful as adults or marry someone who is because otherwise they’re in for a disappointing adjustment in living standards. My own children will be happy to tell you that they have no such worries, alas.
Watch your Step
Herbie Salamon, the fierce-looking but genial policeman who held down the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and Havemeyer Place since kids Lt. Tommy Keagan’s age trooped off to Woodstock has retired. I’m delighted for his sake that he won’t have to endure another February at his post but how will we ever cross the street without his orchestration? I also regret that the town didn’t install an electrified grid in the crosswalk during Herbie’s tenure. Operated via foot pedal, it would have given him another tool to deal with witless pedestrians and kept the rest of us amused while we waited for his signal to cross.
Diasaster Relief
Officer Salamon didn’t retire in time to avoid our recent blizzard which dumped fourteen inches of snow on our roads. The cost of cleaning it all up exhausted Greenwich’s budget for snow removal but that’s normal; we set the budget based on average snowfall, and some years the town has a surplus, some years not. So I’m distressed to read that Greenwich, along with the rest of the state, is applying to the federal government for emergency relief from those costs. I realize that we’ve become a nation addicted to keeping our noses in the trough but really —when is a snow storm in New England a “disaster” that justifies putting our hand in our fellow taxpayers’ pockets?
Four wheel brakes
And finally, for those drivers who slid through stop signs during that blizzard and plowed into their townsmen, here’s a reminder: cars have always had four-wheel brakes. Your new Range Rover will stop no more quickly than your father’s Oldsmobile. The only difference is that the Rover’s four-wheel drive will allow you to go out into snowstorms and get in trouble. Take it easy out there.
The annual ritual of January sales has descended on the market, with bidding wars breaking out all over town. Houses that languished for months, unloved, are being snapped up at astonishing (to me, at least) prices. If past history is a guide, all this fun will continue until late March or early April when some form of sanity will return.
New to the market
Several unique properties have been listed recently, including Reynwood Manor, Tamar Lurie’s listing on North Street. It’s a castle built in 1935 and completely renovated in 2001, filled with gracefully-sized rooms, winding corridors and, one hopes, secret passageways. It feels like a fun place to live, especially for a family with lots of kids. But those kids better have rich parents because the asking price is $15,900,000. For less fortunate children, Jean Ruggerio is offering 297 Round Hill Road for $6,525,000. I loved this house when it was on the market two years ago (for $2,000,000 less, but the present owners have done an enormous amount of renovation) and I still like it. It’s set way back from the road and has great views of its own pond. Seven bedrooms, eight baths, heated pool, all in a 1930’s mansion. Neat.
How Much Was that Dog in the Window?
Mention of the past selling price of Jean’s listing brings to mind a somewhat annoying tendency of some buyers (and even some agents) to focus on what a seller paid for his house some time in the past. There is nothing more irrelevant. I was showing one of my listings the other day when the buyer’s agent, in front of her customer, told me that the price was crazy “because I know how much they paid for this house”. I was a little taken aback, both because I think it unprofessional to disparage a house in front of the seller’s agent – we’re duty bound to either defend it or, at most, remain silent, so what’s the point? – and because I can’t imagine why a nine-year-old price has anything to do with a house’s current value. I won’t tell you what my grandmother paid for her house in 1957 (I don’t want your tears staining this column) but, if it ever comes time to sell it we’ll set its price by comparing it to similar houses then on the market and recent sales. What a seller paid for his house and even the size of the profit he’d like to make has no effect on the market value. Get over it.
Little Princesses
As I stroll through some of the larger offerings of the builder’s craft I’ve been struck by the elaborate suites being built as kiddie bedrooms. The rooms are positively palatial and the en suite, marble bathrooms match them in expensive detail and size. Children who grow up in such rooms had better be very, very successful as adults or marry someone who is because otherwise they’re in for a disappointing adjustment in living standards. My own children will be happy to tell you that they have no such worries, alas.
Watch your Step
Herbie Salamon, the fierce-looking but genial policeman who held down the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and Havemeyer Place since kids Lt. Tommy Keagan’s age trooped off to Woodstock has retired. I’m delighted for his sake that he won’t have to endure another February at his post but how will we ever cross the street without his orchestration? I also regret that the town didn’t install an electrified grid in the crosswalk during Herbie’s tenure. Operated via foot pedal, it would have given him another tool to deal with witless pedestrians and kept the rest of us amused while we waited for his signal to cross.
Diasaster Relief
Officer Salamon didn’t retire in time to avoid our recent blizzard which dumped fourteen inches of snow on our roads. The cost of cleaning it all up exhausted Greenwich’s budget for snow removal but that’s normal; we set the budget based on average snowfall, and some years the town has a surplus, some years not. So I’m distressed to read that Greenwich, along with the rest of the state, is applying to the federal government for emergency relief from those costs. I realize that we’ve become a nation addicted to keeping our noses in the trough but really —when is a snow storm in New England a “disaster” that justifies putting our hand in our fellow taxpayers’ pockets?
Four wheel brakes
And finally, for those drivers who slid through stop signs during that blizzard and plowed into their townsmen, here’s a reminder: cars have always had four-wheel brakes. Your new Range Rover will stop no more quickly than your father’s Oldsmobile. The only difference is that the Rover’s four-wheel drive will allow you to go out into snowstorms and get in trouble. Take it easy out there.
posted by Chris Fountain at 10:14 AM
1 Comments:
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