The House That Floats

After being involved with so many builds over my 20-plus-year career, somehow I always seem to remember what it feels like to walk on the vacant land. Sometimes the land is already vacant. Other times, a house has to be demolished. Nevertheless, that feeling of standing and walking on that quiet, uninhabited land prior to a new construction build feels comforting.

When plans and renderings are ready and you're in the permit process to get your building permit approval, which gives you the right to break ground and start building, you try and visualize what is to come. Other times the land just waits for a suitor to come along and design their own slice of paradise.

I recall standing on a lot some six or seven years ago. An enormous waterfront vacant lot facing west and with a very prestigious address. This particular lot was waiting for a buyer to build their dream. I like to spend time on these vacant lots when I represent them. Bring them some energy. Bring them some life. Just so happens I had a new single family residence for sale five doors down, and though I could sell both, the latter was the one I was pushing.

I got the call one night while I was watching TV and frankly had fallen asleep around 7:00 PM. I got the call from an aggressive agent I had discussed the finished home with, and I was being asked to show the home in 30 minutes. These sorts of requests usually come with a big waste of time attached to them. So I said quite frankly, tell me who the buyer is, and if it isn't Donald Trump, tell them we need 24-hour notice to show. After much hesitation by the broker, who didn't want to disclose who his buyer was, but also after realizing my seller wouldn't let me show without first vetting the buyer, the broker gave me the name.

"I'm on the way." I ran out of the house as fast as I could and was at the property in no time once I heard the Whale would be breaching. I knew, from experience, with this level of buyer and with this caliber of property, the buyer would most definitely be later than what was advertised by the broker, but this buyer was on time, and luckily with this property I only had to hit a few buttons at the front door to make the property shine.

Partway through showing the property, which took about an hour and a half in all, we got to the rooftop with just the three of us standing up there. And though it was dark outside, you could still get a glimmer of the last sunlight left and downtown views facing west. "What is that?" asked the Whale. "Do you have anything available with that view?"

The broker cringed and tried to get me to be quiet about what he also knew I represented. The look of disgust as I mentioned the vacant lot opportunity I had actually made me laugh. This broker thought for sure I was about to muck up the deal. His point was probably: we have this Whale here, so let's just sell him this. Let's not sell him something else until he moves on from this property. But I had something different in mind.

We continued the voyage through the main house, the showing about halfway done by the time we got to the rooftop, and as we concluded our time together, I said goodbye, shook hands, and was off on my way to lock up the house when the buyer said, "Well, aren't you going to show me the west-facing lot?"

"I am happy to show it to you, but there are no lights on the land." He made it to his car and so did I, and I drove in front of both gentlemen and led the way.

I opened the gate and asked for them to follow me in with the cars when they tried to get out. "Keep the cars running with the lights on." We made our way in and made a line and illuminated only a fraction of the oversized lot. We stood out there and looked at the view for about two minutes. And that was it.

After meeting the intense Whale with the aggressive broker a handful of times after that, only to see the finished house multiple times with no offer, I finally put the finished house under contract with a different buyer. The buyer was Cotton Candy.

Cotton Candy conducted inspections and appraisals and did some hard due diligence to get to a line in the sand where the deal was on the verge of blowing up over a credit both parties couldn't agree to.

No matter what I tried, there could be no further meeting of the minds for the finished home with the stubborn seller, the untrusting buyer, and the disgruntled broker who represented the new buyer.

The deal, as we say in the industry, was dead.

The seller, after a few days, calls me to tell me Cotton Candy will be back in short order, so I should tell him if there is anyone else out there I had shown it to over the life of the off-market listing who might be interested in purchasing it. I named three. The Beezer. Yellow Bull. Or the Whale.

One by one, as instructed, I called each one and gave them 24 hours to decide. I told each one the basic story and said if you want the house, now is the time to step in. The Whale was my first call. The broker got back to me about three hours later and said, "We pass. It's not for us." And one by one, until I had called all three, the leads all passed. Not for them.

Two days later, Cotton Candy came back, went hard, and eventually purchased the finished home.

A week after Cotton Candy went hard, the Whale's broker called me. "So is the finished house still available?"

"No." I told him "It's gone. Hard. Closes in 21 days."

He said he would call me right back, and within 30 minutes he called and said, "Let's meet at the lot tomorrow."

All it took was standing on the lot once at night for a few minutes, and the finished house, which was so appealing, selling to someone else, for the Whale to make his deal. The daytime showing of the lot was just a formality. The deal was already done from the moment I showed the lot from the rooftop of the finished house that first night.

So once again, it all begins with the lot. That feeling of standing on it with the dream of potential that lives in the mind of the beholder.

There's a corner lot at Fairgreen Drive and West 29th Street in Mid Beach. 13,900 square feet, three blocks from the ocean, one block from newly built Bayshore Park, and one block from the Miami Beach Golf Club. A 1933 house stood on it for ninety years. I took it down, cleared the corner, and brought in Touzet Studio, the architects behind some of the most serious residential and commercial work in Miami.

This month, I get to show you what we designed.

The house floats. That's the first thing everyone says when they see it. Touzet lifted the living volumes into the air, establishing an understory, so at ground level you walk beneath the house itself, through a covered and shaded outdoor living room with a full kitchen, a BBQ, and a bar. The pool sits at grade in the lawn beside a wellness wing with a cold plunge, a sauna, and a hot tub. The ground level of the home also features a two car garage and an entrance lobby that meets a glass rotunda with a spiral staircase anchoring the corner, and an elevator. The property also has a lot of yard space. We are giving you room for kids to play and dogs to roam.

Not only does the design make sense for living inside and outside simultaneously, but it takes advantage of the latest building codes to address sea level rise, future proofing the property against possible future city projects, and reducing the cost of flood insurance premiums. We live in the best city in the world here in Miami Beach, so we have designed this project to address these possible concerns.

The home is designed as a 6,800 SF home with 6 bedrooms all ensuite with terrace access, 6.5 bathrooms, formal dining room, two kitchens, family room, enormous master suite, roof top deck, 700+ SF of terrace space, and a laundry room with laundry chute.

Here's what I'm offering while my plans go through the permit process: the land and the complete Touzet Studio plans together, $4,950,000. Someone is going to skip three years of design and approvals and start building one of the best new houses in Mid Beach.

2880 Fairgreen Drive

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When I posted the renderings last week on social media, the response was the strongest of anything I've shared this summer.

I understand why. Mid Beach doesn't get many corners like this one, and it has never seen a house like this. And Fairgreen is such a special street. It's easy to fall in love.

For the meantime, I visit the lot and eat its mangos and let the land reciprocate the energy I give it as often as I can. We wait for the permit to be approved and while we wait someone is free to make this piece of land their paradise.

The video for 542 Carroll Drive crossed 142,000 views and counting on YouTube. The last light in the valley keeps finding new eyes. If you haven't seen it yet, watch it on YouTube, and the full story lives at 542carroll.com.