For a while, Joe Farrell must have been worried that he might have trouble keeping his in-house ATM (not a euphemism) full of $10 bills. He must have feared he’d never break ground on more than a handful of 10,000-square-foot stucco-clad beachfront palaces at any one time. He must have despaired over whether he’d ever get more than a half-mil a summer for his own home, modestly dubbed The Sandcastle.
But there is relief for Joe Farrell—and, indeed, for McMansion builders everywhere—in this, the most conclusive piece of anecdotal evidence that Wall Street’s long, inconvenient moderately bad dream is over. Read more »
In the news this week you will find two stories of men soothing what ails them through extreme retail therapy: that of Friday Night Lights writer Buzz Bissinger, who confessed in the pages of GQ to spending over $600,000 at the House of Gucci in a leather fetish/bondage binge that resulted in him coming to own ‘eighty-one leather jackets, seventy-five pairs of boots, forty-one pairs of leather pants, thirty-two pairs of haute couture jeans, ten evening jackets, and 115 pairs of leather gloves’ and Steve Cohen, who will not be held down by SEC fines topping half a billion dollars or bulls-eyes on his back. On Tuesday it was reported that the SAC Capital founder had picked up Picasso’s Le Rêve for $155 million as “a gift to himself” and now he’s got a place to put it:
Mr. Cohen reached a deal last week to pay $60 million for an oceanfront property on Further Lane in East Hampton, on Long Island, according to a person with direct knowledge of the sale. The home, which was listed for sale late last week, is down the road from one he already owns.
And while there was supposedly a real need to buy the second Hamptons house (the first one does not have an ocean view, being obstructed by Jim Chanos’s manse), and Le Rêve is nice to look at, he could have bought the house and painting at any time. These purchases were clearly one part “pick-me-up,” two parts “fuck all y’all.” Which raises the question: Read more »
Cass Almendral has been having himself a great summer — and he owes it all to his house. Half a mile from the Southampton train station, his eight-bedroom, $4 million 1890s farmhouse, complete with a pool and hot tub, has been the site of many a summer bash. But it’s done more than just serve as a party castle. It’s given Almendral his cachet with the ladies. “If you own a house, you’re at a huge advantage,” he says. “That’s why I’m single. Every summer I can have a huge adventure.” “I’ve had girls who’d take the bus over and linger around, then have sex with anyone who had a house,” says Almendral, the 50-year-old managing director of the Wall Street Solutions Group Inc. “They weren’t hookers. They got by through the kindness of strangers . . . they see the Hamptons as an adventure that’s also a safe, luxurious experience.”…Newbies on the city scene are quickly initiated into the game. “Some girls will pressure girls who are new to the city to be friends with a certain guy because of his Hamptons house,” says a 25-year-old woman who works at an investment banking firm. “It’s an overarching theme of the summer — find a guy with a home and date him.” [NYP]
Time was, the Hamptons could count on Wall Street guys taking home enormous packages at year-end to buy up its inventory of multi-million dollar homes. They’d come to a mutual understanding, if you will. Not only would they lay out $45 million in cash for a 12-bedroom spread, but they’d be happy to pay the same for some 2-bedroom hole 2 miles from the beach because why not? Now, due to the bloody financial crisis, people are actually stopping, thinking, and in some disturbing cases, negotiating on the price. Read more »
The 6 months or so have not been the best of times for hedge fund manager Phil Falcone. The returns in Harbinger’s flagship have not exactly mimicked the highs of 2007, investors got their panties in a bunch when he borrowed $113 million from one of his funds (where redemptions had been frozen) in order to pay personal taxes, he had to put up his art collection as collateral to borrow even more cash, the deal that could make or break him has run into some bumps that include fucking things up in outer space and the same ingrates who gave him shit for locking up their money are getting all pissy because instead of giving them back actual cash, they’re getting illiquid shares of LightSquared. What’s more, construction on his Hampton’s home is still months and months away from being completed and it was looking like Phil was going to have to break the bad news to the Wilbur, the Falcone’s singing and dancing pig, that there’d be no getting wild at the Pink Elephant this summer. Already Wilbur had been dropping some not so subtle hints that most pigs of his talent wouldn’t have stuck around this long and that he had “options,” so it was a conversation Phil was not looking forward to. And then, out of nowhere, luck came a knocking on Phil’s front door. Read more »
As the Appaloosa manager may have his hands tied at the moment, we’re happy to pass it on.
Subject: HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW? Read more »