A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York.
By Nina Pajak
Amazing news! I found the perfect apartment.
It’s right in Manhattan, close to a bunch of subway lines, walkable to the office, maybe not the greatest restaurant or bar scene nearby but it is super quiet and private. Outdoor space, w/d, d/w, sun-drenched, charming, closet space, pet-friendly. Sounds amazing, right? We weren’t really looking to buy just yet, but when you see the right opportunity you need to be flexible. That’s what everyone says, anyway, so I’m going to go for it.
It’s a little, squinchy, mini-bit out of budget. Of course, this is New York so we’d obviously expect to compromise somewhere. The perfect apartment in the perfect location for the perfect price simply does not exist. I’m hoping we can negotiate given the economic climate, though. It’s on the market for . . . wait. What was it again? Oh, yes. One hundred million dollars.
But listen, it’s sort of a good deal when you consider everything. First of all, it’s 8,000 square feet. So I can definitely fit all of my baby grand pianos, plus it sounds like I’ll finally be able to get my collection of ancient Egyptian sarcophagi out of storage. They’ve been sitting there for like, forever. So yay!
Secondly, it’s a triplex. And no, not the sneaky kind that sounds amazing but really goes from floors one down to the sub-basement. The penthouse kind. Which means no noisy neighbors! And we’ll be able to vacuum on floors two and three as late as we darn well please. Built in 1988 amid controversy for exceeding height regulations (the building is 75 floors), the apartment is also shaped like an octagon. Way cool! You know, you just can’t put a price on that special pre-Gulf War charm.
But I’ve buried the lede. My dream home features three—count ’em!—three wraparound terraces! One on each floor.
This will be ideal for things like shooting hip hop music videos, throwing parties for 500 of my closest mogul friends, watching fireworks going off in all five boroughs and parts of New Jersey, taking really good Instagram photos of weather disturbances, standing with my hands on my hips and pretending that all the tiny people walking around below are but serfs living borrowed lives on my vast and powerful fiefdom, and conducting a variety of amateur experiments with lightning.
Of course, this boast-worthy asset is precisely the reason the owner is selling his home (at a potential $91 million profit). Tragically, he must move for fear that his five-year-old son could get escape out of one of the 135 windows (and some doors, I’d imagine) and out onto a terrace, which is naturally very dangerous for a child. I understand. We might have a kid one day too, but I suppose we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it. I mean, I have friends who bought a one-bedroom apartment a couple of years ago, and now they’re having a baby. They’ll probably need to move eventually, too. These things happen! I’m thinking this place fits into our five-year plan, anyway. I figure that’s long enough to turn this thing around and make a little extra dough when we’re ready to sell and move to the suburbs.
I know this apartment has been getting some press lately, and I’m a bit worried about competition from other young hopefuls trying to break into the Manhattan real estate market, not to mention Russian oligarchs and their offspring. We were hoping to start out with a lowball offer and work from there. Wish us luck!
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Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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