One beautifully balmy Saturday in Sydney, I set out with a client with my Buyers Agent hat firmly on my head, with a view of inspecting beachside properties. Because I was not technically on the inspection trail, I left my standard black armour behind, and instead adopted a softer grey dress with matching scarf and ballet flats. Very North Shore. Not (as it turned out) Very Bronte. Faux pas number one. I met with my client who was more appropriately dressed in leather sandals and a Kaftan and set off in search of her dream pad. The criteria was Eastern Beaches, preferably a view, period style and with two bedrooms.
Upon reaching Bronte Beach, my client wanted to view an apartment that was way out of her price range. With a gap between properties, I conceded. Unfortunately my outfit did not. The unit in question was directly above a hip café, Ex-Bronte Lounge, and we had to walk past the equally hip patrons in my equally unhip conservative best. Walking up the staircase after not having exercised in over 12 months, I felt even less like a healthy gorgeous Bronte local, a real disadvantage when I am supposed to be imparting “local” knowledge to my client. Faux pas number two.
My self-consciousness immediately disappeared when I saw “that view”. Beachside panoramas, the sound of waves: the epitome of the Bronte lifestyle. I surveyed the apartment, which was really a long narrow open plan space with a central utility pod separating the living space from the bedroom. Whilst quietly appreciating the design attributes of dividing a space using a kitchen/bathroom/storage pod, I was eyeing off my client. I got the distinct impression that my client was not interested – period style it was not. We left the property and headed downstairs to the familiar smell of coffee from The Lounge.
Just as I was feeling at ease with myself again, I rolled my ankle on the bottom step and fell out of the doorway of the building, right in front of the assembled “Lounge” audience. I realized my dramatic exit was duly appreciated when a unified gasp was heard. Faux pas number three – and I’m out. Great. Now I’m inappropriately dressed, unfit AND a klutz. I stood up, brushed myself off and went to walk on, client in tow. Unfortunately for me, Ex-Bronte Lounge is known for great breakfast, and my client could not walk past the Haloumi and Spinach Eggs. I was mortified – I now had to sit in the café in front of which I had humiliated myself and watch my client eat eggs.
Meanwhile, I tried to redeem myself by taking the opportunity to ruminate about the property. It was very clear to me that the intoxicating view was the real reason that the property was in a price bracket that my client could not afford, yet the view was not a view – a faux view. It was only visible from a standing position on the balcony, not from the open plan living room, relaxing on the couch, cooking in the kitchen. If you can’t see your view from the spot that you are most often in, why would you pay a premium for it?
Similarly I have applied this rhetoric to several of my personal property search missions. The old “squat in the living room” trick has amused many an Agent over the past few years, that’s for sure (especially in light of my rather rotund rear end, which is rather prominent whilst performing squats!). Despite looking ridiculous, this trick has saved me a couple of times from being seduced by a property that has a faux view. I may go into some further details of faux views in a later post, so stay tuned folks!
Back to The Lounge. I felt that after my excellent analysis of the faux view, I had completely redeemed myself for my previous faux pas. Then I realized that I needn’t have bothered – my client hated it, as suspected. Just as I was slowly sinking back into the pit of self-consciousness, my client called over the waiter. With a chunk of spinach wedged in her teeth. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so out of place…
Have you been burnt by the “faux view”? Did you see this as misleading advertising, or just Agent spin?
