Is Lenox Hill New York’s version of Paris’ Eighth?

Sitting at Amaranth for dinner on a Sunday night next to a very loud and tipsy Carla Bruni with her husband, the President of France, I thought for a moment that I was in the 8^th Arrondissement.   It’s easy to draw a parallel between the two neighborhoods.  Both have fabulous restaurants and are home to Hermès.  Both have an international flare and boast well healed residents wearing $800 footwear.  And, both have veneer of respectability that seems to melt off when one enters the local haunts.

I am a recent transplant to the neighborhood having moved to a floor through apartment in a brownstone located on 63^rd off 5th, a swank address indeed.  My apartment once belonged to Zsa Zsa and Eva’s mother and was home to Edie Sedgwick in her Factory Girl days.   But, why was my rent so much less expensive than something half as grand in the West Village?  Not even for a moment did I think I would end up on the Upper Eastside, until by chance, I was recommended to a sublet of an editor returning to Italy.

The benefits and amenities of Lenox Hill were pleasantly surprising.  The first joy I discovered is that the area south of 72^nd and west of Lexington, is an unofficial stroller free zone.  And the spawn that are allowed access are most well behaved.  The proximity to the Park was another unexpected delight.  There is a true luxury in being able to step into the Park or take a run with no notice.  The only drawback to the neighborhood is that there are no grocery stores in ten block radius, and there is the temptation to order take-out from Nello or walk to the Pierre for a snack.

The elegance of the people I have discovered has been a true delight.  Doorman along residential Park Avenue often open the doors to taxis even if the passenger aren’t arriving guests or residents to their buildings.  The streets are cleaned every day and the restauranteurs and shopkeepers say good morning and smile.

People leave their apartments with their hair combed, though they may return slightly disheveled from a martini or two too many later in the evening.

Like the 8^th, the neighborhood is a mix of elegance residents and tourists.  But, only in New York would the First Couple of France be seated adjacent to two lady tourists from the mid-West dressed in vintage Acid Washed jeans who seem to use formaldehyde as lip moisturizer…

Mr Gatsby’s Haunts

Amaranth

21 East 62^nd

www.amaranthrestaurant.com

Le Bilboquet

25 E. 63^rd

Monkey Bar

60 E. 54^th

Rouge Tomate

14 E. 60th

How to Travel in (Relative) Luxury

To me, living in luxury is living within one’s means while making smart choices about time and money. Living a life of luxury isn’t about vulgar, conspicuous consumption or displaying wealth (or illusions of wealth). Mr. Gatsby’s aspires to report about unique treats, haunts and experiences independent of price.

Traveling to Paris to work to report on the Yves Saint Laurent Auction and to preview villa rentals for Mr. Gatsby’s Chic Experiences, I tried to be very deliberate in my travel choices. My budget, beyond the cost of the hotel, was 100 euros per day, and I wrote every single expense in my pocket journal. I ‘m not very good at “sticking” to a budget, but “tracking” to a budget gave me sense of empowerment. Many days I broke the budget, but writing each expense down made me aware of what I was spending.

A few tips:
Da Plane Da Plane….use Points! When not pursuing the life of a Travlelisto, I build and remodel homes in the Hamptons. When buying appliances, lumber, and furniture, I use my American Express which has enabled me to accumulate a fair amount of points. I booked my ticket to Paris using points and used American Express Travel which is very helpful in navigating blackout dates.

Hotel Bookings. Paying for my flight with points allowed me more of an indulgence for my hotel expense. Most “luxury” hotels aren’t eager to discount their nightly rate, but are willing to offer “packages” such as spa packages or meal plans. I reserved the basic room at the hotel and was offered my fifth night free, and when I arrived I was upgraded to a junior suite with a terrace facing the avenue. Usually, I prefer to stay on the Left Bank, but I chose to stay in the 8th to be walking distance to the Grand Palais which is where Christie’s was exhibiting the Yves Saint Laurent collection.

Don’t order hotel coffee. Unfortunately, my hotel didn’t offer a meal plan, and I refuse to pay 35 euros (plus service) for a pot of coffee. The price of coffee motivated me to leave the hotel earlier than I might otherwise have. I discovered a great café, La Grande Corona, at the foot of Avenue George V that offers omelets for 7 euros.

Publicis Drugstore on the Champs-Elysee Publicis is open until 2 a.m. and sells Evian for 1.15 euro. The store feels like a hybrid of White’s Pharmacy in East Hampton and Fred Segal on Melrose. There are various kiosks in the store selling perfume, champagne, chocolates, candles, magazines, Pierre Herme macaroons and Missoni sweaters.
Tipping is a Karma…good tipping brings good karma. I factor tips into my travel budget. I tip the doorman, the maid, and the concierge the first day I arrive.

Don’t aspire to be “Euro-trash”. When I was in my late teens, my friends and I would make pilgrimages into the New York to frequent Au Bar and Nell’s. Wearing a collective bad attitude and projecting a sense of entitlement as if we were minor royalty of undetermined European origin always gained us immediate access to the clubs and frequent admission to the “VIP Area”. At thirty-something, I don’t find acting like Euro-trash serves me well when actually traveling in Europe. A sincere “please” and “thank you” with a smile seems to be more effective these days.

Take a Lulu Lemom Tracksuit and Trainers. Running along the Seine is free and helps to shake jetlag.

YSL Auctions, My 401k and Thoughts on Real Estate

620 was meant to be my lucky paddle number at the YSL auction. The paddle was assigned to me last Friday and would be my ticket to investing in the “New Economy”.

There was a private viewing of the Yves Saint Laurent collection at the Grand Palais this past weekend with much pomp and pageantry….a lot of pomp and a lot of pageantry if you catch my drift. In addition to putting themselves on display, many had come to pay respects to Saint Laurent and peek at the articles of his private life.

I had my eyes set on several pieces created by Claude and Francois-Xavier Lalanne after having seen the estimates in the Christie’s Catalogue. Given the mood in New York when I left, I was hoping these particular pieces would go towards the low end of the auction estimates. I thought this would be a great time to invest! When I need to retire, in forty years I can sell these pieces for thirty times what I paid giving me enough money to pay for astronomical insurance premiums and bad health care.

In addition to being my nest egg, my small collection of art and furniture is also something that gives me pleasure every day. As for other investments, my 401k now is worth the same amount of the actual cash contributions I made, and I quit investing in it almost ten years ago. When paper shredders first came out, I enjoyed shredding papers at my father’s office. But shredding those incomprehensible 401k statements doesn’t seem so fun anymore, well at least not as much fun as collecting art, furniture, and real estate.

John Thain, the former CEO of Merrill Lynch, must have thought similarly when he commissioned Michael Smith to decorate his then office for a reported $1.2 million. Knowing Michael’s work, I’m sure he selected wonderful antiques and rugs that have a tendency to appreciate in value. I saw Thain on the news apologizing for using Merrill’s money to decorate his office as the press badgered him for squandering Merrill’s money on furnishings when the company was generating multi-billion dollar losses. After all, the company had earned the right to decorate the CEO’s office by “earning” fees from 401k holders like me even if those fees didn’t’ make the company profitable….right?

If the “collection” Michael Smith assembled belonged to Merrill, Thain was actually investing well…investing much better than allocating more corporate funds to the toxic crap he and his cronies were hocking to other money mangers.

But Thain must be clever as a fox as they say. He said he would “make right” by offering to reimburse Merrill for the antiques and the rug in an attempt to atone for wrong doings. Might he have traded the value of his own Merrill stock “at the time the collection was assembled” so that he could take possession of those pieces? A shrewd investment indeed!

Thinking of Thain reminded me of a Merrill retail stockbroker who tried to hock me some stocks, mutual funds and term life insurance in my early twenties. I have a BS degree from the Hotel School at Cornell with a concentration in real estate and corporate finance. I had worked as consultant at Arthur Andersen, and even with this background, I wasn’t sophisticated enough to understand “whole life insurance”. I was hopeless at choosing stocks and always felt I was at least one day behind the market.

Instead, we bought a house in Los Angeles in the best area that we could afford (which felt quite expensive at the time). We paid the house down over the years instead of investing more money in a 401k or a Roth-IRA. When mortgage rates dropped a few years ago, I refinanced to a fifteen-year term at a 5 percent interest rate. Last year, we moved to Sag Harbor and now let (rent) the house in Los Angeles. If we were to moderate my lifestyle and spending habits just slightly, the income that the house in LA generates would be enough on which to live. The 401k plan doesn’t seem to offer quite the same flexibility as income producing real estate.

Other collectors attending the auction must also have had a similar investment perspective to mine as I lost out on bidding for the objects of my desire. Many of the YSL Lalanne pieces sold for more than ten times Christie’s high estimates. Such is a sign of investing in the New Economy. The buyers may have overpaid for the pieces, but unlike Madoff investors or Lehman bond holders, they have a story AND something to show for it…..

Good Intentions Gone Bad…

As I was driving through Provence in search of great villas to represent for the Travel Club, I passed by an empty farm stand, and I thought of my grandmother who lives in a small town outside Aiken, South Carolina (which itself is a small town). My grandmother loves to drive through the county from whence she hails and buy peaches and pecans. This is her form of “recreational shopping”.

I turned to my co-pilot and suggested that we find some locally grown lettuces or parsnips to offer our villa hosts. I think I made the declaration that driving leisurely through the country in search of fresh produce should be the new form or “recreational shopping”, and that I intended to write about it on the Blog.

We continued on through the vineyards and fields somehow winding our way down to the beach. It was after one o’clock, and I thought we shouldn’t “hunt” lettuces on empty stomachs so we ended up at Le Club Key West. The intention of “Recreational shopping” turned into the reality of “Recreational Drinking”…

Two bottles of wine and three hours later, I panicked. All the farm stands must be closed by now!

We ended up “hunting” for a parking spot at the Geant Marche, the French equivalent of a Wal-mart/King Kullen hybrid. We walked to the back of the store under fluorescent lights passing tabloids and frozen foods to pick out four bottles of wine. As we waited in line for the clerk to scan our merchandise, I thought. “So much for finding a farm stand out in the sunny countryside…”

Drinks with the housekeeper in East Hampton

So, I was having drinks with the housekeeper in East Hampton the other day and I commented on her new Louis Vuitton bag from the welovesprouse.com collection. Every few months she seemed to have a new one. Real ones, not the fakes.

Was she affected by the crisis, I asked? She replied very matter-of-fact that Housecleaning in the Hamptons is like Heathcare in America; it’s a recession proof industry. Even though she has steady income, she volunteered that she had to make choices in life…she’s on a budget after all. For example, she nodded to her new Escalade parked next to my 1998 Ford F-150 and lectured me that she didn’t opt for the platinum package because the gold package was good enough…and she wanted to save her money for handbags.

As we finished off a bottle of Wolffer Rose, I told her I was trying to better monetize Mr. Gatsby’s Chic Experiences. Could she share some of her ideas as an entrepreneur?

She told me that gouging me $25 an hour was really a loss leader for her as she lit-up a cigarette on my terrace and asked me to get her an ashtray. She made her real money through “affiliate programs” and “repackaging”.

Through a very structured network, she explained that she receives distribution “royalties” from an affiliation of gardeners, pool men, handymen and caterers whom she refers to her client base. The royalties she receives from referring into the program range from ten to thirty percent in perpetuity. Additionally, she bills the client hourly for meeting service affiliates, in effect double dipping.

When she helps cater events, often she is given left over bottles of alcohol, wine and champagne that she repackages and sells through the affiliate network. Open bottles are deeply discounted while sealed bottles are sold at a 20% discount below retail. Clients can also request to purchase alocohol from her inventory which she charges at full retail, plus delivery fee. Had I asked her to pick up the case of wine from which we were drinking?

Fascinated by this sophisticated revenue model, I wanted to learn more, but had to end the conversation as I saw the electrician pulling up in a Range Rover to adjust a dimmer in my cottage. Was he waving to me or the housekeeper?

I found it strange that the electrician was so quick to respond to my request which I had submitted only a few days earlier. As he came into the garden, something in his stride told me he wasn’t here to adjust the light. The housekeeper sensing my disorientation, explained that she hadn’t expected me to linger so long at the cottage given this was the off season. I then realized this house was effectively hers until Memorial Day. She had invited members of the affiliate program to the cottage for a cocktail party. Could I stay? Of course, but somehow the tables seemed to have turned as I found myself serving drinks and emptying ash trays…

(Legal Disclaimer: Characters are fictionalized in this story….)