A Cautious Graduate of the School of Buy Now
Oh, was she sweet. And sincere. And a bit confused. I wasn’t the prospective buyer of the house; I’d only come along with my friend. But the real estate agent gently guided me by the elbow up the driveway of the big Santa Monica home.
“You know, dear, prices are really starting to go up,” she confided. “If you’re interested, you really ought to make an offer. There are already two offers on this house.”
I might have been polite--corrected her about my identity or even nodded my head knowingly. But no. I am a member of the Class of ’89. We are bitter, vengeful people, having bought into the Westside housing market at its very peak, just before the “correction” that caused our homes to plummet in value. Our neighborhood took such a dive that we didn’t even have to apply to the assessor’s office to have our property taxes knocked down a couple years ago; it was done automatically.
“Listen,” I hissed. “I bought a house in 1989, back when you people were saying, ‘Buy now or remain in renter hell for eternity.’ I am never again going to be manipulated into buying a home. No one is ever going to be able to tell me that if I don’t buy rightthissecond I’ll be consigned to the sidelines of the good life. Got that?”
The real estate agent leaned in. “Dear, there’s no substitute for experience, but I just want you to know one thing. Had I been your agent in 1989, I would never have advised you to buy a home. I told all my clients the market was heading for a crash.”
Yes, and my name is Dorothy and this is the Emerald City.
Our encounter took place last winter. This summer, about six months later, my friend bought herself a house in Santa Monica. She emerged triumphant from a bidding war with two other parties. All made offers at amounts well over the asking price on the first day the house was listed for sale.
My friend, it would appear, got a pretty good deal.
*
No doubt about it, the scorched Southern California real estate market is starting to look green again. In news reports, research firms confirm escalating prices, politicians crow over market-friendly capital gains “tax reform,” financial folks trumpet low interest rates, economists speak of the positive “psychological impact” of all these factors on buyers and sellers.
On Sunday, open house flags fluttered on many corners. Inside some of those homes, agents crowed about the numbers of people coming through.
“Busy today?” I asked an agent tending a 2-BR, 2-BA “charmer” on a sliver of land in a hilltop Mar Vista cul-de-sac (asking price: $379,000).
“Yes,” he replied enthusiastically, “I’ve already got two pages of names here!” (I wonder if they feel as disappointed as I do. What looks so promising in print is often so unappealing in person. If you’ve ever been seduced by the Ikea catalog, you know what I mean.)
Nearby, an oversized home--3,000 square feet of remodeled Southwestern fantasy--was “For Sale by Owner.” The owner also happened to be the contractor . . . and the designer. Had an agent, and not the lady of the house, been standing in the kitchen, one might have risked being candid: “What in heaven’s name were they thinking when they installed turquoise wall-to-wall carpeting in every room?” Or: “Do they really think they have a snowball’s chance of getting $565,000?” As it was, one didn’t want to hurt any feelings.
A couple of miles away, on a tree-lined street in the flatlands of a neighborhood called Westdale Trousdale, a 3-BR, 4-BA house described as “fabulous . . . in immaculate condition with excellent curb appeal” gave me a mild case of claustrophobia with its small rooms (yes, there were lots and lots of them). The asking price, however ($489,000), made me want to scream.
*
It was all starting to feel uncomfortably like the late ‘80s. Excited real estate agents. Sensationally optimistic asking prices. And slightly paranoid home shoppers, desperate for bigger homes, who eyed each other warily as they passed in hallways and living rooms and driveways. You could practically hear them thinking: So who are all these yuppie idiots pulling up in their sport utility vehicles, anyway? And, more important, will they bump us out of contention for the home of our dreams with their inflated entertainment industry salaries?
Not me, though. I don’t subscribe to that way of thinking anymore. I belong to the Class of ’89. This time around, we won’t make the same mistakes. We won’t be in such a hurry to buy. We won’t be misled about the sanctity of real estate values. We will base our purchases on what our heads tell us, not our hearts.
Not that we don’t feel a certain building pressure.
The UPS strike is over, and some analysts predict the settlement could touch off rising inflation. You never know what that Alan Greenspan will do. Sure, interest rates are low now, but they could spike at any moment.
Obviously, the time to buy is now, right now. Rising prices be damned. Full escrow speed ahead.
* Robin Abcarian co-hosts a morning talk show on radio station KTZN-AM (710). Her column appears on Wednesdays. Her e-mail address is Rabcarian@aol.com.
