type='html'>All the Nashville and country music media are going hog wild with the news that former American Idol turned Grammy-winning pop-country superstar Carrie Underwood and her lantern-jawed professional puck pusher hubby Mike Fisher have snatched up more than 400 undeveloped acres in the scenic and semi-rural suburbs of Nashville, TN.
According to all the many reports on the matter, Mister and Missus Fisher paid around $2,900,000 for 354 acres in the foothills south of Nashville. They reportedly paid another $350,000 for an adjoining 50-acre spread.
Presumably the comely couple will build a big ol' house with a swimming pool (and and ice rink?) where they can raise up a passel of fine lookin' youngins in the lap of country luxury.
Last year it was reported in all the big tabs and gossip glossies that the newlyweds were in the process of building a house of marital bliss in Ottawa, Canada where Mister Fisher, at the time, played hockey for whatever hockey team it is they have in Ottawa. Conveniently, early in the year Mister Fisher was transferred to the professional hockey team in Nashville, his wife's home base. We're sure there were no calls made or strings pulled to make that happen. Your Mama really has no idea if the Underwood-Fishers will keep their crib in Canada where, we imagine, Mister Fisher still has scads of family and friends.
As far as we know–and property records reveal–Missus Underwood-Fisher's property portfolio currently includes the Brentwood, TN mansion that she bought in May 2007 for $1,353,000. The house, according to records and research, sits at the tail end of a cul-de-sac in the gated Governors Club golf community and measures 5,683 square feet.
The country queen also, according to records, still owns a 2,956 square foot house in a suburban development in Franklin, TN that she acquired in November 2005 for $384,000.
Miles Copeland III Lists Quirky Crib
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SELLER: Miles Copeland III
LOCATION: Los Angeles, CA
PRICE:$4,950,000
SIZE: 7,486 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 6.5 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Before there was The Selby–if y'all don't know it, you should–there was Nest. From 1997 until 2004 the remarkable and sadly shuttered quarterly shelter publication Nest lovingly presented extraordinary public and private spaces that flouted any and all traditional notions and confines of good decorative taste.
The high-concept publication, conceived and orchestrated by the wildly creative Joseph Holtzman, promoted and celebrated idiosyncratic, eccentric and often perplexing environments rather than the picture perfect rooms typically presented in design and day-core publications. Unlike the pretty and "correct" but too-often sterile spaces seen in most high-end shelter publications, the homes and spaces presented in vividly lush layouts in Nest were not always easy to look at but they were provocative and provided a deep, fascinating and raw look into the inner lives of the home's occupants.
Nest was definitely not for the strict classicist or decoratively feint of heart; This was not the sort of magazine that breezily offered suggestions about how readers could cheaply emulate the expensive and quote-unquote good design depicted on the glossy house-porn-filled pages of most design rags. Rather, Mister Holtzman and his band of merry interns sanctioned the somehow little encouraged notion that folks ought to follow their personal vision of decorative bliss even if it means covering the walls, ceiling and floor of a guest bedroom entirely in electrical tape or hanging a Christmas light festooned ficus trees upside down over the dining room as an organic make-shift chandelier.
If Todd Selby hasn't yet photographed the Los Angeles, CA residence of legendary music mogul and artist manager Miles Copeland III for The Selby then Your Mama thinks he ought to get on his broomstick and hightail out from N.Y.C. to document the quirky (and janky) Hollywood Hills crib that Mister Copeland just put on the market with an asking price of $4,950,000.
Mister Copeland–the son of two intelligence officers and the brother of both noted music promoter Ian Copeland and The Police's Stewart Copeland–nursed and promoted the careers of various New Wave and rock bands including The Go-Go's, Wall of Voodoo, Squeeze, Camper Van Beetoven, Oingo Boingo, Gary Numan, John Cale, The English Beat, Concrete Blonde, General Public and Fine Young Cannibals. He is not, in all honesty, nearly as relevant today as he was in the 1980s but, as far as Your Mama is concerned, he's more than earned his place in the pantheon of music industry bigwigs.
Property records show Mister Copeland, now in his sixties, paid $750,000 for his slightly less than 2.5 acre wonderland in March of 1983. He bought the funky and somewhat fetid-looking estate from Emmy-winning actor, noted orchid cultivator and closet homosexual Raymond Burr (Perry Mason, Ironside) who occupied the estate for an unknown number of years with his long-time man-friend Robert Benevides.
Listing information shows the pale pink and white Andalusian-style main house measures 7,486 square feet. Floor plans included with marketing materials show the three story residence encompasses 15-rooms with 4 bedrooms, 6.5 bathrooms, 5 fireplaces, 2 kitchens, scads of staircases and more damned stained glass than Chartres Cathedral.
The mansion, originally built in 1923, has a rather haphazard arrangement of rooms done up in a vibrant and chaotic stew of jaw-dropping bad but satisfyingly personal day-core that liberally, fearlessly (and probably, thoughtlessly) commingles velvet Art Deco furniture, Arts and Crafts-style stained glass, vintage pottery, Egyptian artifacts, wall murals and children's artwork. Sprinkled throughout are teddy bears, heaps of house plants, hulking Gothic pieces with intricate and delicate carved details, religious doo-dads, King Arthur-ish bric-a-brac, oil paintings that depict bright Medieval scenes and various vases and urns that over flow with knick-knacks and more house plants. It's just awful, an honest-to-goodness hot mess if you look at it with Elle Decor eyes. But, looked at another way, as a manifestation of Mister and Missus Copelands' complex inner most decorative desires, it's rather magnificent. We could never live here and would probably need a nerve pill just to walk through the front door but we none-the-less applaud and fete the Copelands' complete and utter disregard for the rules and strictures of good taste and proper interior day-core as practiced by past and present masters like Sister Parish, Thierry Despont and Peter Marino.
The property can be accessed by way of two gated entrances on two different streets, which is perfect for those who need to elude the paparazzi. The top level entrance hall, lit naturally by a large stained glass sky light and cluttered with an orderly cacophony of columns, objet and and house plants, funnels guests into a vast 1,000-ish square foot "formal" living room that features a built-in window seat, Juliet balcony and massive fireplace with carved wood, stone and gilded details. Oh, and stained glass, there's lots of stained glass in the living room. If the over-stuffed entry didn't clue a person in to the incongruous and often competing decorative motifs in store for them at Chez Copeland, then the chic Paris flea market meets a decidedly frumpy West Covina yard sale style seen in the living room should hammer it home like a sexually frustrated drill sargeant in a foul mood.
Art Deco once again meets Nebraska grandma in the "formal" dining room where the children will note the pink orchid set prominently on the dining room table. Anyone whose been hanging around here very long knows that Your Mama is not a huge fan of the orchid. In fact, we hate them. They have become, quite frankly, a ubiquitous and annoying decorative cliché. In this case, however, the orchid is not only acceptable it's goddam perfect given former owner Mister Burr's noted cultivation of said flower.
A tiny kitchen, a kitchenette really, just off the dining room is fine for making tea and pouring cereal but is hardly the sort of thing one expects to find in a multi-million dollar mansion in Tinseltown. There is another, slightly larger (and ass-ugly) kitchen impractically located two floors down. There does not appear, according to floor plans we peeped, to be a dumbwaiter which surely means Mister and Missus Copeland probably have a house gurl and/or valet with extremely muscular haunches toned by hauling meals and dinnerware up and down two flights of stairs every time someone wants a damn meal.
The 800-plus square foot main floor master suite can be accessed either awkwardly through the kitchenette or less awkwardly by way of a long stained glass-lined hallway off the foyer that features a (dust-collecting) tented ceiling. The master bedroom bulges with Gothic furniture and includes a fireplace and a hulking built in platform bed with thick columns and velvet privacy curtains. Two walk in closets flank the room, a private balcony (accessible through a towering bank of stained glass windows) offers city views and the attached elaborate bathroom looks like the sort of place someone Old World and fussy like the pope might feel comfortable doing his dirty business.
At least two separate staircases connect the main level to the lower level that consists of a garage, office, an additional entry hall, three guest/family bedrooms (two with private cans plus a third one in the hall), and a large den with pegged wood floors and heavy mis-matched drapery that look like champagne-colored ballgowns someone tacked up over the windows in an effort at financial modesty. Arched French doors that lead to a Gaudi goes to Morocco souk-like solarium stuffed with candles, more house plants and a flotilla of vintage pottery.
Two more separate staircases descend one more level to more intimate family quarters where the walls and even the curving breast of the corner fireplace in the family/entertainment room are completely covered with children's artwork. To one side of the family room is a home theater with another fireplace and on the other a game room (also with fireplace) acts as passage to the mansion's inconveniently located service areas that include a laundry room, full bath and aforementioned ass-ugly and hideously outdated kitchen with paneled dining area.
Various terraces lined with potted plants and shaded by thick foliage connect and lead to the various entertainment areas around the property that include a broad flat lawn with fountain, free-form swimming pool and a covered patio perfect for shaded tea on a hot summer day. The hillside grounds are criss-crossed by shaded paths and terraces that connect and lead to various outbuildings that include a 3-room, 1,211 square foot recording studio/office with fireplace and 1.5 bathrooms, a pair of greenhouses where Misters Burr and Benevides grew orchids, and a handful of storage and warehousing facilities that add up to another 1,412 square feet.
The downtrodden estate, tucked into an overgrown section of the Hollywood Hills between the famous Wattles Gardens and the dog-friendly Runyon Canyon were celebs (and Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter) take their pooches to commune with nature sans leash. Mister Copeland's nearby celeb neighbors include rock 'n roll female Cheryl Crowe who owns a multi-residence gated compound just around the corner and fast-tracked actress Amanda Seyfried (Big Love, Mamma Mia, Mean Girls) who recently splashed out $1,850,000 to buy a traditional residence from actor Adam Brody (Gilmore Girls, The O.C., Scream 4), also just around the corner.
listing photos: Michael McCreary Photography for Sotheby's International Realty
SELLER: Miles Copeland IIILOCATION: Los Angeles, CA
PRICE:$4,950,000
SIZE: 7,486 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 6.5 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Before there was The Selby–if y'all don't know it, you should–there was Nest. From 1997 until 2004 the remarkable and sadly shuttered quarterly shelter publication Nest lovingly presented extraordinary public and private spaces that flouted any and all traditional notions and confines of good decorative taste.
The high-concept publication, conceived and orchestrated by the wildly creative Joseph Holtzman, promoted and celebrated idiosyncratic, eccentric and often perplexing environments rather than the picture perfect rooms typically presented in design and day-core publications. Unlike the pretty and "correct" but too-often sterile spaces seen in most high-end shelter publications, the homes and spaces presented in vividly lush layouts in Nest were not always easy to look at but they were provocative and provided a deep, fascinating and raw look into the inner lives of the home's occupants.
Nest was definitely not for the strict classicist or decoratively feint of heart; This was not the sort of magazine that breezily offered suggestions about how readers could cheaply emulate the expensive and quote-unquote good design depicted on the glossy house-porn-filled pages of most design rags. Rather, Mister Holtzman and his band of merry interns sanctioned the somehow little encouraged notion that folks ought to follow their personal vision of decorative bliss even if it means covering the walls, ceiling and floor of a guest bedroom entirely in electrical tape or hanging a Christmas light festooned ficus trees upside down over the dining room as an organic make-shift chandelier.
If Todd Selby hasn't yet photographed the Los Angeles, CA residence of legendary music mogul and artist manager Miles Copeland III for The Selby then Your Mama thinks he ought to get on his broomstick and hightail out from N.Y.C. to document the quirky (and janky) Hollywood Hills crib that Mister Copeland just put on the market with an asking price of $4,950,000.
Mister Copeland–the son of two intelligence officers and the brother of both noted music promoter Ian Copeland and The Police's Stewart Copeland–nursed and promoted the careers of various New Wave and rock bands including The Go-Go's, Wall of Voodoo, Squeeze, Camper Van Beetoven, Oingo Boingo, Gary Numan, John Cale, The English Beat, Concrete Blonde, General Public and Fine Young Cannibals. He is not, in all honesty, nearly as relevant today as he was in the 1980s but, as far as Your Mama is concerned, he's more than earned his place in the pantheon of music industry bigwigs.
Property records show Mister Copeland, now in his sixties, paid $750,000 for his slightly less than 2.5 acre wonderland in March of 1983. He bought the funky and somewhat fetid-looking estate from Emmy-winning actor, noted orchid cultivator and closet homosexual Raymond Burr (Perry Mason, Ironside) who occupied the estate for an unknown number of years with his long-time man-friend Robert Benevides.
Listing information shows the pale pink and white Andalusian-style main house measures 7,486 square feet. Floor plans included with marketing materials show the three story residence encompasses 15-rooms with 4 bedrooms, 6.5 bathrooms, 5 fireplaces, 2 kitchens, scads of staircases and more damned stained glass than Chartres Cathedral.
The mansion, originally built in 1923, has a rather haphazard arrangement of rooms done up in a vibrant and chaotic stew of jaw-dropping bad but satisfyingly personal day-core that liberally, fearlessly (and probably, thoughtlessly) commingles velvet Art Deco furniture, Arts and Crafts-style stained glass, vintage pottery, Egyptian artifacts, wall murals and children's artwork. Sprinkled throughout are teddy bears, heaps of house plants, hulking Gothic pieces with intricate and delicate carved details, religious doo-dads, King Arthur-ish bric-a-brac, oil paintings that depict bright Medieval scenes and various vases and urns that over flow with knick-knacks and more house plants. It's just awful, an honest-to-goodness hot mess if you look at it with Elle Decor eyes. But, looked at another way, as a manifestation of Mister and Missus Copelands' complex inner most decorative desires, it's rather magnificent. We could never live here and would probably need a nerve pill just to walk through the front door but we none-the-less applaud and fete the Copelands' complete and utter disregard for the rules and strictures of good taste and proper interior day-core as practiced by past and present masters like Sister Parish, Thierry Despont and Peter Marino.
The property can be accessed by way of two gated entrances on two different streets, which is perfect for those who need to elude the paparazzi. The top level entrance hall, lit naturally by a large stained glass sky light and cluttered with an orderly cacophony of columns, objet and and house plants, funnels guests into a vast 1,000-ish square foot "formal" living room that features a built-in window seat, Juliet balcony and massive fireplace with carved wood, stone and gilded details. Oh, and stained glass, there's lots of stained glass in the living room. If the over-stuffed entry didn't clue a person in to the incongruous and often competing decorative motifs in store for them at Chez Copeland, then the chic Paris flea market meets a decidedly frumpy West Covina yard sale style seen in the living room should hammer it home like a sexually frustrated drill sargeant in a foul mood.
Art Deco once again meets Nebraska grandma in the "formal" dining room where the children will note the pink orchid set prominently on the dining room table. Anyone whose been hanging around here very long knows that Your Mama is not a huge fan of the orchid. In fact, we hate them. They have become, quite frankly, a ubiquitous and annoying decorative cliché. In this case, however, the orchid is not only acceptable it's goddam perfect given former owner Mister Burr's noted cultivation of said flower.
A tiny kitchen, a kitchenette really, just off the dining room is fine for making tea and pouring cereal but is hardly the sort of thing one expects to find in a multi-million dollar mansion in Tinseltown. There is another, slightly larger (and ass-ugly) kitchen impractically located two floors down. There does not appear, according to floor plans we peeped, to be a dumbwaiter which surely means Mister and Missus Copeland probably have a house gurl and/or valet with extremely muscular haunches toned by hauling meals and dinnerware up and down two flights of stairs every time someone wants a damn meal.
The 800-plus square foot main floor master suite can be accessed either awkwardly through the kitchenette or less awkwardly by way of a long stained glass-lined hallway off the foyer that features a (dust-collecting) tented ceiling. The master bedroom bulges with Gothic furniture and includes a fireplace and a hulking built in platform bed with thick columns and velvet privacy curtains. Two walk in closets flank the room, a private balcony (accessible through a towering bank of stained glass windows) offers city views and the attached elaborate bathroom looks like the sort of place someone Old World and fussy like the pope might feel comfortable doing his dirty business.
At least two separate staircases connect the main level to the lower level that consists of a garage, office, an additional entry hall, three guest/family bedrooms (two with private cans plus a third one in the hall), and a large den with pegged wood floors and heavy mis-matched drapery that look like champagne-colored ballgowns someone tacked up over the windows in an effort at financial modesty. Arched French doors that lead to a Gaudi goes to Morocco souk-like solarium stuffed with candles, more house plants and a flotilla of vintage pottery.
Two more separate staircases descend one more level to more intimate family quarters where the walls and even the curving breast of the corner fireplace in the family/entertainment room are completely covered with children's artwork. To one side of the family room is a home theater with another fireplace and on the other a game room (also with fireplace) acts as passage to the mansion's inconveniently located service areas that include a laundry room, full bath and aforementioned ass-ugly and hideously outdated kitchen with paneled dining area.
Various terraces lined with potted plants and shaded by thick foliage connect and lead to the various entertainment areas around the property that include a broad flat lawn with fountain, free-form swimming pool and a covered patio perfect for shaded tea on a hot summer day. The hillside grounds are criss-crossed by shaded paths and terraces that connect and lead to various outbuildings that include a 3-room, 1,211 square foot recording studio/office with fireplace and 1.5 bathrooms, a pair of greenhouses where Misters Burr and Benevides grew orchids, and a handful of storage and warehousing facilities that add up to another 1,412 square feet.
The downtrodden estate, tucked into an overgrown section of the Hollywood Hills between the famous Wattles Gardens and the dog-friendly Runyon Canyon were celebs (and Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter) take their pooches to commune with nature sans leash. Mister Copeland's nearby celeb neighbors include rock 'n roll female Cheryl Crowe who owns a multi-residence gated compound just around the corner and fast-tracked actress Amanda Seyfried (Big Love, Mamma Mia, Mean Girls) who recently splashed out $1,850,000 to buy a traditional residence from actor Adam Brody (Gilmore Girls, The O.C., Scream 4), also just around the corner.
listing photos: Michael McCreary Photography for Sotheby's International Realty
Natasha Henstridge and Darius Campbell Do It Suburban-style
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BUYER: Natasha Henstridge and Darius Campbell
LOCATION: Sherman Oaks, CA
PRICE: $1,300,000
SIZE: 3,476 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: When she was just 14 years old actress Natasha Hentsridge legally emancipated herself, packed her bags, left the Canadian trailer park where she lived with her parents and decamped for the chic streets of Paris where she stomped the catwalks as a fresh-faced if barely pubescent walking manikin. At 15 she appeared on the cover of the French version of Cosmopolitan. Six years and several commercials later Miss Henstridge made her film debut in the sci-fi thriller Species. More films followed (The While Nine Yards and its sequel) as well as a myriad of roles on the tee-vee (Eli Stone, Commander in Chief, She Spies, Would Be Kings).
Miss Henstridge–by then briefly married and divorced with two children by a man who was not her first husband–met future second husband Scotsman Darius Campbell (née Danesh) in 2004 at a traffic light on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, CA. Mister Campbell, as it turns out, was also well on his way up his own ladder of fame and fortune. In 2001, Mister Campbell was finalist on Pop Idol, the U.K.'s version of American Idol. After turning down a record deal offered by entertainment industry gajillionaire Simon Cowell, he went on to make a platinum-selling album on another label, write a book about the music industry (Sink or Swim) and appear in several musicals on London's West End, the U.K.'s Broadway. In 2010 the showbiz dilettante trained for and won the Popstar to Operastar reality program.
The couple reportedly busted up in late 2009 or early 2010 but had mended their romantic fences by February 2011 when the model/actress and the pop star/divo hightailed it to the celeb-friendly San Ysidro Ranch in Santa Barbara, CA where they hitched their wagons in a ceremony so secret they didn't even tell their parents until several days after the clandestine nuptials.
The Los Angeles-based newlyweds soon went on a hunt for a new crib in Tinseltown where they could live happily ever after. A brief communique from The Bizzy Boys at Celebrity Address Aerial snitched that the in early June (2011) happy ex-pat pair settled on a very ordinary (if not exactly inexpensive) spread situated south of Ventura Boulevard in super-suburban Sherman Oaks, CA. Property records reveal they paid $1,300,000 for the gated property.
Listing information for the aggressively nondescript contemporary crib shows it was built in 1961, measures 3,476 square feet and has 4 bedrooms and 4.5 bathrooms including a master suite with vaulted ceiling, glass doors that open to the backyard, two custom-fitted walk-in closets and a travertine-tiled bathroom with double sinks and separate tub and shower.
A double gated driveway curves up to the front of the house where the dominant feature is a front-facing, attached two-car garage. A wide half-flight of tiled stairs with decorative Spanish tile detailing climbs up to the main living area, a voluminous living/dining room with vaulted ceiling, hardwood floor, fireplace and tall banks of windows that look and lead out to the backyard.
The hardwood floors continue into the sizable cook-friendly center island kitchen kitted out with Shaker-style custom cabinetry, granite counter tops, high-grade stainless steel appliances and wood-framed glass doors that open the breakfast area to the stone terrace that surrounds the swimming pool. Your Mama hopes that Mister and Missus Henstridge-Campbell remove the puny pot rack that hangs precariously over the center island. If there's anything worse than a Mercedes-sized pot rack laden with dusty cookery that craves a cranium to crash down upon it's an itty-bitty pot rack with scrolled wrought iron detailing and a Napoleon complex. Have mercy.
Anyhoo, like all good houses in southern California, the Henstridge-Campbell clan's new digs offers easy-breezy indoor/outdoor living perfect for year-round grillin' and chillin'. Many of the main rooms open to the private backyard where entertainment areas includes a pergola shaded dining terrace, a stone terrace, swimming pool and spa. The horrific screen that surrounds the pool in the listing photos is meant to keep the kiddies from drowning but it's also a damn eyesore. We go berserk with annoyance over those things despite their small child-saving purpose.
Miz Henstridge's humble hailing from a trailer park in Fort McMurray, Alberta, Canada hasn't kept her from catching a classic case of The Celebrity Real Estate Fickle; In the last 12 years she's owned no fewer than five homes in and around Sherman Oaks, including her the marital mini-manse she and the hubby just acquired. In December 2003 Miss Henstridge paid $1,360,000 for a five bedroom house in Sherman Oaks that she sold in August 2009 $1,750,000. Previous to that she owned another house in Sherman Oaks she sold in June 2003 for $2,399,000 and prior to that she owned yet another house in Sherman Oaks, this time a more modest 2,180 square foot house with 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms that she sold in August 2001 for $689,000. Before schlepping her shit around to her various homes in Sherman Oaks, Miz Henstridge owned a 3,691 square foot residence in über-suburban and hot and Hades Calabasas, CA that she snatched up in May 1999 for $1,050,000 and sold not quite one year later for $1,270,000.
Your Mama wonders how long Miz Henstridge will stay put in her new house of happy marriage. If real estate history repeats itself she'll be on the move again in about two years. We shall see, butter cups, we shall see.
listing photos: John Aaroe Group
BUYER: Natasha Henstridge and Darius CampbellLOCATION: Sherman Oaks, CA
PRICE: $1,300,000
SIZE: 3,476 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: When she was just 14 years old actress Natasha Hentsridge legally emancipated herself, packed her bags, left the Canadian trailer park where she lived with her parents and decamped for the chic streets of Paris where she stomped the catwalks as a fresh-faced if barely pubescent walking manikin. At 15 she appeared on the cover of the French version of Cosmopolitan. Six years and several commercials later Miss Henstridge made her film debut in the sci-fi thriller Species. More films followed (The While Nine Yards and its sequel) as well as a myriad of roles on the tee-vee (Eli Stone, Commander in Chief, She Spies, Would Be Kings).
Miss Henstridge–by then briefly married and divorced with two children by a man who was not her first husband–met future second husband Scotsman Darius Campbell (née Danesh) in 2004 at a traffic light on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, CA. Mister Campbell, as it turns out, was also well on his way up his own ladder of fame and fortune. In 2001, Mister Campbell was finalist on Pop Idol, the U.K.'s version of American Idol. After turning down a record deal offered by entertainment industry gajillionaire Simon Cowell, he went on to make a platinum-selling album on another label, write a book about the music industry (Sink or Swim) and appear in several musicals on London's West End, the U.K.'s Broadway. In 2010 the showbiz dilettante trained for and won the Popstar to Operastar reality program.
The couple reportedly busted up in late 2009 or early 2010 but had mended their romantic fences by February 2011 when the model/actress and the pop star/divo hightailed it to the celeb-friendly San Ysidro Ranch in Santa Barbara, CA where they hitched their wagons in a ceremony so secret they didn't even tell their parents until several days after the clandestine nuptials.
The Los Angeles-based newlyweds soon went on a hunt for a new crib in Tinseltown where they could live happily ever after. A brief communique from The Bizzy Boys at Celebrity Address Aerial snitched that the in early June (2011) happy ex-pat pair settled on a very ordinary (if not exactly inexpensive) spread situated south of Ventura Boulevard in super-suburban Sherman Oaks, CA. Property records reveal they paid $1,300,000 for the gated property.
Listing information for the aggressively nondescript contemporary crib shows it was built in 1961, measures 3,476 square feet and has 4 bedrooms and 4.5 bathrooms including a master suite with vaulted ceiling, glass doors that open to the backyard, two custom-fitted walk-in closets and a travertine-tiled bathroom with double sinks and separate tub and shower.
A double gated driveway curves up to the front of the house where the dominant feature is a front-facing, attached two-car garage. A wide half-flight of tiled stairs with decorative Spanish tile detailing climbs up to the main living area, a voluminous living/dining room with vaulted ceiling, hardwood floor, fireplace and tall banks of windows that look and lead out to the backyard.
The hardwood floors continue into the sizable cook-friendly center island kitchen kitted out with Shaker-style custom cabinetry, granite counter tops, high-grade stainless steel appliances and wood-framed glass doors that open the breakfast area to the stone terrace that surrounds the swimming pool. Your Mama hopes that Mister and Missus Henstridge-Campbell remove the puny pot rack that hangs precariously over the center island. If there's anything worse than a Mercedes-sized pot rack laden with dusty cookery that craves a cranium to crash down upon it's an itty-bitty pot rack with scrolled wrought iron detailing and a Napoleon complex. Have mercy.
Anyhoo, like all good houses in southern California, the Henstridge-Campbell clan's new digs offers easy-breezy indoor/outdoor living perfect for year-round grillin' and chillin'. Many of the main rooms open to the private backyard where entertainment areas includes a pergola shaded dining terrace, a stone terrace, swimming pool and spa. The horrific screen that surrounds the pool in the listing photos is meant to keep the kiddies from drowning but it's also a damn eyesore. We go berserk with annoyance over those things despite their small child-saving purpose.
Miz Henstridge's humble hailing from a trailer park in Fort McMurray, Alberta, Canada hasn't kept her from catching a classic case of The Celebrity Real Estate Fickle; In the last 12 years she's owned no fewer than five homes in and around Sherman Oaks, including her the marital mini-manse she and the hubby just acquired. In December 2003 Miss Henstridge paid $1,360,000 for a five bedroom house in Sherman Oaks that she sold in August 2009 $1,750,000. Previous to that she owned another house in Sherman Oaks she sold in June 2003 for $2,399,000 and prior to that she owned yet another house in Sherman Oaks, this time a more modest 2,180 square foot house with 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms that she sold in August 2001 for $689,000. Before schlepping her shit around to her various homes in Sherman Oaks, Miz Henstridge owned a 3,691 square foot residence in über-suburban and hot and Hades Calabasas, CA that she snatched up in May 1999 for $1,050,000 and sold not quite one year later for $1,270,000.
Your Mama wonders how long Miz Henstridge will stay put in her new house of happy marriage. If real estate history repeats itself she'll be on the move again in about two years. We shall see, butter cups, we shall see.
listing photos: John Aaroe Group
Why Does It Not Surprise Your Mama...
type='html'>...that down on her professional luck actress Lindsay Lohan lives in a (leased) house in Venice, CA where the walls are hung with gigantic images of herself? It just makes sense in a Hollywood sort of way.
Miss Lohan, bless her heart, was once the young toast of Tinsetown with a growing fortune and a promising future in the film industry. Today she's a bit of a showbiz hot potato and her earning power has most certainly plummeted. She is not, rest assured, without an income. Recent reports indicate that Miss Lohan is currently spending her 120 days of court-ordered house arrest in said rented residence tweeting advertisements–for which she gets paid thanks to her 2,103,000-plus followers–and shilling for a low-brow penny auction website. This story just aches with schadenfreude, don't it?
When Miss Lohan (allegedly) snatched a necklace from a local jewelry store last year it was a violation of probation that stems from a 2007 drunk driving incident. We're certain Miss Lohan and her coterie of latch-ons say the whole thing, this necklace pilfering thing, was a terrible misunderstanding for which Little Miss Innocent is now paying the price.
We don't know what Miss Lohan pays each month for her rented contemporary crib, but Your Mama managed to turn up listing information from the time she leased the property that shows it was priced at $7,100 per month. The house, located just a few blocks from the beach that she can't currently go to without permission from the court, stands 3 stories tall, measures around 3,100 square feet and has 4 bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms, and 2 fireplaces and one roof terrace.
The clean-lined townhouse-like house, which happens to sit right next door the house that Miss Lohan's former lesbian lover Samantha Ronson rents–or rented–has concrete and hardwood floors, vertical expanses of glass in the two-story living room, a floating staircase, a mezzanine that looks over the living room, several balconies, mahogany cabinetry and Carrara marble counter tops.
Miss Lohan told Life & Style magazine recently that besides tweeting and shilling she's spent her house arrest catching up on movies and tee-vee shows and decorating her temporary abode, apparently with multiple images of her own mug. She said she was sad to have missed her brother's birthday party but Your Mama wonders why her family didn't just bring the birthday party to her? Actually, we don't really care why. Nevermind.
Miss Lohan, bless her heart, was once the young toast of Tinsetown with a growing fortune and a promising future in the film industry. Today she's a bit of a showbiz hot potato and her earning power has most certainly plummeted. She is not, rest assured, without an income. Recent reports indicate that Miss Lohan is currently spending her 120 days of court-ordered house arrest in said rented residence tweeting advertisements–for which she gets paid thanks to her 2,103,000-plus followers–and shilling for a low-brow penny auction website. This story just aches with schadenfreude, don't it?
When Miss Lohan (allegedly) snatched a necklace from a local jewelry store last year it was a violation of probation that stems from a 2007 drunk driving incident. We're certain Miss Lohan and her coterie of latch-ons say the whole thing, this necklace pilfering thing, was a terrible misunderstanding for which Little Miss Innocent is now paying the price.
We don't know what Miss Lohan pays each month for her rented contemporary crib, but Your Mama managed to turn up listing information from the time she leased the property that shows it was priced at $7,100 per month. The house, located just a few blocks from the beach that she can't currently go to without permission from the court, stands 3 stories tall, measures around 3,100 square feet and has 4 bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms, and 2 fireplaces and one roof terrace.
The clean-lined townhouse-like house, which happens to sit right next door the house that Miss Lohan's former lesbian lover Samantha Ronson rents–or rented–has concrete and hardwood floors, vertical expanses of glass in the two-story living room, a floating staircase, a mezzanine that looks over the living room, several balconies, mahogany cabinetry and Carrara marble counter tops.
Miss Lohan told Life & Style magazine recently that besides tweeting and shilling she's spent her house arrest catching up on movies and tee-vee shows and decorating her temporary abode, apparently with multiple images of her own mug. She said she was sad to have missed her brother's birthday party but Your Mama wonders why her family didn't just bring the birthday party to her? Actually, we don't really care why. Nevermind.
The Saga of Huguette Clark Continues
type='html'>This story isn't specifically real estate related, but as all the children surely know, Your Mama is obsessed with the following story and we can't resist the urge to pass it along...
Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Bill Dedman filed his latest installment today on the life and times of reclusive heiress Huguette Clark who went to meet her maker in May 2011 at the very old age of 104.
Mister Dedman's newest story covers the juicy details of Miss Clark's just-filed will and its numerous bequeaths that include half a million dollars to a long-time male assistant and a cool million to Beth Israel Medical Center where she lived in a nondescript room for the last couple decades of her long life. Other disbursements include $100,000 to her personal physician, and estimated $12-14,000,000 to a goddaughter and half a million each to her controversial attorney Wallace Wally Bock and even more controversial accountant Irving H. Kamsler who pleaded guilty to charges related to his attempt to send lewd material to underage children.
Miss Clark's longtime nurse makes out with an estimated $33,600,000 and a valuable collection of French and Japanese dolls. Her relatives, all distant and by all accounts not particularly close to Miss Clarke, were very pointedly left out of the the will. It's presumed the will be contested.
Miss Clark owned three substantial pieces of real estate. Prior to moving into an unmarked room in a hospital under a fake name, her primary residence was a prairie-like full-floor apartment in a very swank (but not top-tier) building on New York City's posh Fifth Avenue. Miss Clark also owned an additional half floor in the building. The apartments have for decades been maintained as if Miss Clark were about to return at any moment. Rumors are already started to swirl about just who wants a piece of Miss Clark's Manhattan real estate pie. Some have gossiped that Martha Stewart, who owns a pied a terre in the building, has long had her real estate eyes of Miss Clark's spread. Let those games begin...
Miss Clark also owned Le Beau Chateau, a 52-acre New Canaan, CT estate she bought in 1952 and in which, rumor has it, she never spent a single night. Miss Clark's Connecticut residence has been on and off the market since 2005 when it was first listed with an asking price of $34,000,000. The 9 bedroom and 9 bathroom mansion remains listed but with a much reduced $24,000,000 price tag.
The undisputed sugar in Miss Clark's real estate coffee is Bellosguardo, a 23-plus acre estate on a prime bluff top in Santa Barbara that includes an imposing 21,000-plus square foot beast of a mansion that she staffed and maintained at great expanse but, reportedly, had not stepped foot in since 1963 when her beloved mother died. Miss Clark will provides about $8,000,000 to establish an arts foundation on the grounds of Bellosguardo, her legendary Santa Barbara, CA estate. Your Mama assumes–without any direct knowledge–that the Bellosguardo endowment will balloon with the proceeds taken in by the eventual sale of her Connecticut and New York City properties.
Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Bill Dedman filed his latest installment today on the life and times of reclusive heiress Huguette Clark who went to meet her maker in May 2011 at the very old age of 104.
Mister Dedman's newest story covers the juicy details of Miss Clark's just-filed will and its numerous bequeaths that include half a million dollars to a long-time male assistant and a cool million to Beth Israel Medical Center where she lived in a nondescript room for the last couple decades of her long life. Other disbursements include $100,000 to her personal physician, and estimated $12-14,000,000 to a goddaughter and half a million each to her controversial attorney Wallace Wally Bock and even more controversial accountant Irving H. Kamsler who pleaded guilty to charges related to his attempt to send lewd material to underage children.
Miss Clark's longtime nurse makes out with an estimated $33,600,000 and a valuable collection of French and Japanese dolls. Her relatives, all distant and by all accounts not particularly close to Miss Clarke, were very pointedly left out of the the will. It's presumed the will be contested.
Miss Clark owned three substantial pieces of real estate. Prior to moving into an unmarked room in a hospital under a fake name, her primary residence was a prairie-like full-floor apartment in a very swank (but not top-tier) building on New York City's posh Fifth Avenue. Miss Clark also owned an additional half floor in the building. The apartments have for decades been maintained as if Miss Clark were about to return at any moment. Rumors are already started to swirl about just who wants a piece of Miss Clark's Manhattan real estate pie. Some have gossiped that Martha Stewart, who owns a pied a terre in the building, has long had her real estate eyes of Miss Clark's spread. Let those games begin...
Miss Clark also owned Le Beau Chateau, a 52-acre New Canaan, CT estate she bought in 1952 and in which, rumor has it, she never spent a single night. Miss Clark's Connecticut residence has been on and off the market since 2005 when it was first listed with an asking price of $34,000,000. The 9 bedroom and 9 bathroom mansion remains listed but with a much reduced $24,000,000 price tag.
The undisputed sugar in Miss Clark's real estate coffee is Bellosguardo, a 23-plus acre estate on a prime bluff top in Santa Barbara that includes an imposing 21,000-plus square foot beast of a mansion that she staffed and maintained at great expanse but, reportedly, had not stepped foot in since 1963 when her beloved mother died. Miss Clark will provides about $8,000,000 to establish an arts foundation on the grounds of Bellosguardo, her legendary Santa Barbara, CA estate. Your Mama assumes–without any direct knowledge–that the Bellosguardo endowment will balloon with the proceeds taken in by the eventual sale of her Connecticut and New York City properties.
Aussie Rocker Chris Cester Lists L.A. Pad
type='html'>
SELLER: Chris Cester
LOCATION: Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $1,135,000
SIZE: 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: A few minutes spent looking at some of the more modest new listings in Los Angeles, CA the other day turned up a bewitching but far from flawless little house in the hilly and historic Whitely Heights 'hood. A quick stab and jab around the property records reveals the Spanish-style casa is owned by Australian musician/drummer Chris Cester of the hard rock band Jet. Mister Cester, in his early 30's and a new father, has his humble house in the Hollywood Hills on the market with an asking price of $1,135,000.
Your Mama understands that many Americans will not know Jet's music–think AC/DC mixed with The Rolling Stones and spiced with a loud whisper of Nirvana–nor will they recognize Mister Cester's name. However Mister Cester (and his band mates) are certainly well known Down Under for their slim hips, (faux-)dirty good looks and rock star style antics.
Our entirely unscientific research on the interweb shows that Jet's first album (Get Born, 2003) was a success while their two subsequent albums (Shine On, 2005; Shaka Rock, 2008) have not performed quite as well from a commercial point of view. For reasons to which we're not privy, Mister Cester relocated to Los Angeles sometime around 2004 or '05. Since setting down roots stateside he's written a number of original songs used in films (Drillbit Taylor, Spider-Man 3) and television programs (Chuck, CSI: NY).
Property records reveal that Mister Cester acquired his California crib, originally built in 1937, in May 2005 when he paid $1,010,000 for the quirky but fetching house that occupies a tiny triangle-shaped lot tucked into the tail end of a quiet cul-de-sac just above the most touristy stretch of Hollywood near Grauman's Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Wax Museum.
The house is so close to the still-a-bit-gritty heart of Hollywood that should a person be so inclined to walk–and true to cliché almost no one in L.A. is inclined to walk anywhere–its a short stroll to the Hollywood Walk of Fame and all the many velvet rope lounges (Hyde), glitzy restaurants (Katsuya), souvenir shops and stripper-ware stores that line Hollywood Boulevard. Should any of the children ever be in need for a 7-inch Lucite mule with a heart-shaped diamante detail on the heel, Hollywood Boulevard between Highland and Vine is the best place to go. Believe it or not there are scads and scores of stores where you can find a blood red patent leather peep-toe thigh-high on this stretch of Hollywood Boulevard. Trust. Just ask distressingly over-processed mother-of-three Shauna Sand who even wears her pole-worthy ankle-breakers to the damn beach.
Anyhoo, the Los Angeles County Tax Man shows Mister Cester's residence in Whitley Heights has only one floor, measures 1,414 square feet and includes just one bedroom and 1 bathroom. It seems that some improvements/additions have been made to the interior spaces since listing current information indicates there are three bedrooms and two small but glammy bathrooms in an unknown number of square feet. Listing information also states that there's a "beautifully built out basement pool table + size rm.," whatever that means.
The cozy–meaning petite–living room has original wood floors, crown moldings, windows that stretch almost all the way to the floor and a brick fireplace awkwardly tucked into a corner of the room where it's rendered all but pointless. We're not sure why the original architect or a subsequent owner didn't have the fireplace repositioned at a 45-degree angle. Any moe-ron with a vague sense of spatial relationships can plainly see that turn the firebox to face the room and make it a focal point–dontcha just hate that word?–rather than an unsightly architectural wart.
Mister Cester and his baby momma–whomever she may be–did up their historic house with a fearless and funky, 1940s Hollywood glamor-tinged day-core. In the living room a butch antler chandelier gets casually juxtaposed against and double-wide lounge chair with over-scale but still dainty paisley print, a 1970s shag rug, and a pair of flamboyant gilded rococo mirrors, one so large it just leans up on the wall and keeps the ugly little fireplace in the corner company. We just love those deep- and loose-pile shag rugs. They're so porn den and cocaine that they'll always have a place on the universal decorative mood board. However, when we consider the nonsense and bacteria that gets trapped in them–think dog butt and the loogie you dragged in from the sidewalk–we say, "Nay." The ugly icing on that cake is our imperious house gurl Svetlana who drops to the floor in a high-pitched convulsive rebellion when we so much as hint at bringing an impossible to keep clean '70s style shag rug into our house.
The dado-encircled dining room, just big enough for an intimate dinner party, has wood floors and what looks to Your Mama like a dee-voon blue Venetian glass chandelier. The dining table, a kooky concoction comprised of a thick glass table top that sits on two squat fluted columns, is surrounded by upholstered chairs that include a pair of wing back captain's chairs upholstered in a nearly weird toile-like fish-print pattern that we love like the dickens. It would work perfectly as a duvet in Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter's vaguely nautical master bedroom.
The adjoining kitchen, downright closet-sized compared to the sorts of colossal cookeries that get installed in most upscale homes nowadays, retains the home's original 1930s ambiance with a black and white tile floor laid on a 45-degree angle, an old-skool O'keefe & Merritt range and built in corner china cabinets in the compact but cute breakfast nook that has huge windows on three sides.
Outdoor areas include a walled dining/lounging courtyard at the rear of the house and at the front a multi-level deck with built in seating was carefully built around the thick trunk of what may or may not be a messy messy messy rubber tree. Jeezis, Mother of God rubber trees are the worst. Don't any of you environmentalist get all bossy now because Your Mama loves a goddam tree just as much as the next tree hugger. We just don't like rubber trees. They grow like a weed, require constant lacing and they constantly drop a gooey substance that pretty much renders any thing underneath it filthy and sticky. We digress...A spiral staircase climbs up from the deck to somewhere–we don't know where it leads–and a flat backyard large enough to sink a swimming pool is walled and ringed with trees and shrubs that appear to provide some if not complete privacy. Parking can get competitive in these compact nooks and crannies in the Hollywood Hills so it's good to note that the house includes a two-car attached garage plus additional (and shaded) off-street parking for two more autos under a vine-entwined pergola at the far end of the yard.
Other famous but relatively low-profile peeps who own homes in pretty Whitley Heights include film and music video director (and Tinseltown scion) Roman Coppola, heavenly actress Busy Philipps (Cougartown), comedienne Caroline Rhea and hospital drama denizen Ellen Pompeo (Grey's Anatomy).
listing photos: Rodeo Realty
SELLER: Chris CesterLOCATION: Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $1,135,000
SIZE: 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: A few minutes spent looking at some of the more modest new listings in Los Angeles, CA the other day turned up a bewitching but far from flawless little house in the hilly and historic Whitely Heights 'hood. A quick stab and jab around the property records reveals the Spanish-style casa is owned by Australian musician/drummer Chris Cester of the hard rock band Jet. Mister Cester, in his early 30's and a new father, has his humble house in the Hollywood Hills on the market with an asking price of $1,135,000.
Your Mama understands that many Americans will not know Jet's music–think AC/DC mixed with The Rolling Stones and spiced with a loud whisper of Nirvana–nor will they recognize Mister Cester's name. However Mister Cester (and his band mates) are certainly well known Down Under for their slim hips, (faux-)dirty good looks and rock star style antics.
Our entirely unscientific research on the interweb shows that Jet's first album (Get Born, 2003) was a success while their two subsequent albums (Shine On, 2005; Shaka Rock, 2008) have not performed quite as well from a commercial point of view. For reasons to which we're not privy, Mister Cester relocated to Los Angeles sometime around 2004 or '05. Since setting down roots stateside he's written a number of original songs used in films (Drillbit Taylor, Spider-Man 3) and television programs (Chuck, CSI: NY).
Property records reveal that Mister Cester acquired his California crib, originally built in 1937, in May 2005 when he paid $1,010,000 for the quirky but fetching house that occupies a tiny triangle-shaped lot tucked into the tail end of a quiet cul-de-sac just above the most touristy stretch of Hollywood near Grauman's Chinese Theater and the Hollywood Wax Museum.
The house is so close to the still-a-bit-gritty heart of Hollywood that should a person be so inclined to walk–and true to cliché almost no one in L.A. is inclined to walk anywhere–its a short stroll to the Hollywood Walk of Fame and all the many velvet rope lounges (Hyde), glitzy restaurants (Katsuya), souvenir shops and stripper-ware stores that line Hollywood Boulevard. Should any of the children ever be in need for a 7-inch Lucite mule with a heart-shaped diamante detail on the heel, Hollywood Boulevard between Highland and Vine is the best place to go. Believe it or not there are scads and scores of stores where you can find a blood red patent leather peep-toe thigh-high on this stretch of Hollywood Boulevard. Trust. Just ask distressingly over-processed mother-of-three Shauna Sand who even wears her pole-worthy ankle-breakers to the damn beach.
Anyhoo, the Los Angeles County Tax Man shows Mister Cester's residence in Whitley Heights has only one floor, measures 1,414 square feet and includes just one bedroom and 1 bathroom. It seems that some improvements/additions have been made to the interior spaces since listing current information indicates there are three bedrooms and two small but glammy bathrooms in an unknown number of square feet. Listing information also states that there's a "beautifully built out basement pool table + size rm.," whatever that means.
The cozy–meaning petite–living room has original wood floors, crown moldings, windows that stretch almost all the way to the floor and a brick fireplace awkwardly tucked into a corner of the room where it's rendered all but pointless. We're not sure why the original architect or a subsequent owner didn't have the fireplace repositioned at a 45-degree angle. Any moe-ron with a vague sense of spatial relationships can plainly see that turn the firebox to face the room and make it a focal point–dontcha just hate that word?–rather than an unsightly architectural wart.
Mister Cester and his baby momma–whomever she may be–did up their historic house with a fearless and funky, 1940s Hollywood glamor-tinged day-core. In the living room a butch antler chandelier gets casually juxtaposed against and double-wide lounge chair with over-scale but still dainty paisley print, a 1970s shag rug, and a pair of flamboyant gilded rococo mirrors, one so large it just leans up on the wall and keeps the ugly little fireplace in the corner company. We just love those deep- and loose-pile shag rugs. They're so porn den and cocaine that they'll always have a place on the universal decorative mood board. However, when we consider the nonsense and bacteria that gets trapped in them–think dog butt and the loogie you dragged in from the sidewalk–we say, "Nay." The ugly icing on that cake is our imperious house gurl Svetlana who drops to the floor in a high-pitched convulsive rebellion when we so much as hint at bringing an impossible to keep clean '70s style shag rug into our house.
The dado-encircled dining room, just big enough for an intimate dinner party, has wood floors and what looks to Your Mama like a dee-voon blue Venetian glass chandelier. The dining table, a kooky concoction comprised of a thick glass table top that sits on two squat fluted columns, is surrounded by upholstered chairs that include a pair of wing back captain's chairs upholstered in a nearly weird toile-like fish-print pattern that we love like the dickens. It would work perfectly as a duvet in Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter's vaguely nautical master bedroom.
The adjoining kitchen, downright closet-sized compared to the sorts of colossal cookeries that get installed in most upscale homes nowadays, retains the home's original 1930s ambiance with a black and white tile floor laid on a 45-degree angle, an old-skool O'keefe & Merritt range and built in corner china cabinets in the compact but cute breakfast nook that has huge windows on three sides.
Outdoor areas include a walled dining/lounging courtyard at the rear of the house and at the front a multi-level deck with built in seating was carefully built around the thick trunk of what may or may not be a messy messy messy rubber tree. Jeezis, Mother of God rubber trees are the worst. Don't any of you environmentalist get all bossy now because Your Mama loves a goddam tree just as much as the next tree hugger. We just don't like rubber trees. They grow like a weed, require constant lacing and they constantly drop a gooey substance that pretty much renders any thing underneath it filthy and sticky. We digress...A spiral staircase climbs up from the deck to somewhere–we don't know where it leads–and a flat backyard large enough to sink a swimming pool is walled and ringed with trees and shrubs that appear to provide some if not complete privacy. Parking can get competitive in these compact nooks and crannies in the Hollywood Hills so it's good to note that the house includes a two-car attached garage plus additional (and shaded) off-street parking for two more autos under a vine-entwined pergola at the far end of the yard.
Other famous but relatively low-profile peeps who own homes in pretty Whitley Heights include film and music video director (and Tinseltown scion) Roman Coppola, heavenly actress Busy Philipps (Cougartown), comedienne Caroline Rhea and hospital drama denizen Ellen Pompeo (Grey's Anatomy).
listing photos: Rodeo Realty
Hedge Hog Phil Falcone Spends Big on Hamptons Summer Rental
type='html'>The Hamptons summer rental market is heating up but good, puppies. It's almost as if the recent economic catastrophe, brought on by umpteen millions of bad mortgages and financial instruments so complex most financiers would be hard-pressed to explain them, hadn't happened at all.
Por ejempo: Today word comes down the real estate pike that fat cat hedge hog and notorious real estate size queen Philip Falcone and his sartorially courageous wife Lisa Maria have agreed to pay "about $700,000" to rent Stone Meadow Farm, a nearly new 18,000 square foot shingled sprawler in East Hampton, NY. That's nearly three quarters of a million bucks, children, for what we hear through the real estate gossip grapevine is just a two months summer rental. How's that for making even the reasonably rich feel financially impotent?
The current owner, theatrically-minded real estate heiress/entertainer (and self-described J.A.P.) Isabel Rose, acquired the 8-acre estate in 2009 after a bidding war with–you can't make this up, kids–Mister and Missus Falcone. She paid around $12,000,00o for the sprawling compound that–as per the floor plan included with marketing information from the time of the sale (shown above)–includes a three-floor L-shaped main house with 5 bedrooms, 9.5 bathrooms and 5 fireplaces. An attached guest house contains an additional 5 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms, 3 fireplaces, attached two-car garage and double-height living/dining/kitchen equipped with a phenomenally expensive brass-accented La Cornue cooker.
Some of the children may recall that large-livin' pop chanteuse Mariah Carey leased Stone Meadow Farm for a short time in the summer of 2008 at a reported rate of $125,000 per week. Have mercy! Your Mama needs a gin & tonic in order to get our piddly little mind around spending that much money to rent a house for one week.
The savory floor plan for Stone Meadow Farm indicates the grandly proportioned house includes a master suite with private sitting room, bedroom with fireplace, one en suite pooper, two dressing rooms and a private courtyard with stone terrace and hot tub. The approximately 3,500 square foot finished basement contains a media room, play room with wet bar and fireplace, gym, spa facilities (massage, steam and sauna rooms) and a staff lounge while the extensive grounds feature stone courtyards and terraces, flat lawns, tree-dotted pastures, a swimming pool and pool houses, spa, tennis court and a postage stamp perfect white barn with five stalls for the ponies.
Mister and Missus Falcone, rumored and reported to be building a 13,000 square foot house in nearby Sagaponack, currently reside New York City. In 2008 the conspicuous consumers famously paid about $49,000,000–in cash–for financially troubled Bob Guccione's legendary palace of porn on East 67th Street.
The Falcone's have given the 25,000-plus square foot double-wide mansion a soup to nuts overhaul reported to include the installation of a 34-foot long indoor pool, movie theater with stadium seating and not one but two dressing rooms for the Missus, one with wet bar. Now children, no one likes to imbibe a boozy beverage (or three) as much as Your Mama but is that what happened here? Was that mesmerizing and ridiculous ensemble a result of drinking while dressing? We tease. In truth Your Mama j'adores a contrarian and as such we actually think Miss Falcone is kind of fab in a flashy-trashy rags to riches I don't give a fuck what all you lacquer-haired high society types think of me sort of way. Not everyone, dearies, is meant to wear an elegant and simple Carolina Herrera gown, you know? Some goils and boys require a little bad fashion to feel complete.
Anyhoo, the Falcone's massive manse was also planned to include two elevators, a gym with steam and sauna and a "press room" in the basement where Esmerelda Minimumwage spends her days not wrangling with the media but, rather, ironing. Naturally the house was outfitted with a comprehensive security system so advanced it can probably make a person disappear without a trace if they so much as look at the house in a way it somehow deems inappropriate or suspect.
floor plan: Corcoran
Por ejempo: Today word comes down the real estate pike that fat cat hedge hog and notorious real estate size queen Philip Falcone and his sartorially courageous wife Lisa Maria have agreed to pay "about $700,000" to rent Stone Meadow Farm, a nearly new 18,000 square foot shingled sprawler in East Hampton, NY. That's nearly three quarters of a million bucks, children, for what we hear through the real estate gossip grapevine is just a two months summer rental. How's that for making even the reasonably rich feel financially impotent?
The current owner, theatrically-minded real estate heiress/entertainer (and self-described J.A.P.) Isabel Rose, acquired the 8-acre estate in 2009 after a bidding war with–you can't make this up, kids–Mister and Missus Falcone. She paid around $12,000,00o for the sprawling compound that–as per the floor plan included with marketing information from the time of the sale (shown above)–includes a three-floor L-shaped main house with 5 bedrooms, 9.5 bathrooms and 5 fireplaces. An attached guest house contains an additional 5 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms, 3 fireplaces, attached two-car garage and double-height living/dining/kitchen equipped with a phenomenally expensive brass-accented La Cornue cooker.Some of the children may recall that large-livin' pop chanteuse Mariah Carey leased Stone Meadow Farm for a short time in the summer of 2008 at a reported rate of $125,000 per week. Have mercy! Your Mama needs a gin & tonic in order to get our piddly little mind around spending that much money to rent a house for one week.
The savory floor plan for Stone Meadow Farm indicates the grandly proportioned house includes a master suite with private sitting room, bedroom with fireplace, one en suite pooper, two dressing rooms and a private courtyard with stone terrace and hot tub. The approximately 3,500 square foot finished basement contains a media room, play room with wet bar and fireplace, gym, spa facilities (massage, steam and sauna rooms) and a staff lounge while the extensive grounds feature stone courtyards and terraces, flat lawns, tree-dotted pastures, a swimming pool and pool houses, spa, tennis court and a postage stamp perfect white barn with five stalls for the ponies.
Mister and Missus Falcone, rumored and reported to be building a 13,000 square foot house in nearby Sagaponack, currently reside New York City. In 2008 the conspicuous consumers famously paid about $49,000,000–in cash–for financially troubled Bob Guccione's legendary palace of porn on East 67th Street.
The Falcone's have given the 25,000-plus square foot double-wide mansion a soup to nuts overhaul reported to include the installation of a 34-foot long indoor pool, movie theater with stadium seating and not one but two dressing rooms for the Missus, one with wet bar. Now children, no one likes to imbibe a boozy beverage (or three) as much as Your Mama but is that what happened here? Was that mesmerizing and ridiculous ensemble a result of drinking while dressing? We tease. In truth Your Mama j'adores a contrarian and as such we actually think Miss Falcone is kind of fab in a flashy-trashy rags to riches I don't give a fuck what all you lacquer-haired high society types think of me sort of way. Not everyone, dearies, is meant to wear an elegant and simple Carolina Herrera gown, you know? Some goils and boys require a little bad fashion to feel complete.
Anyhoo, the Falcone's massive manse was also planned to include two elevators, a gym with steam and sauna and a "press room" in the basement where Esmerelda Minimumwage spends her days not wrangling with the media but, rather, ironing. Naturally the house was outfitted with a comprehensive security system so advanced it can probably make a person disappear without a trace if they so much as look at the house in a way it somehow deems inappropriate or suspect.
floor plan: Corcoran
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