Serge Azria Lists Cape Cod Cottage in Malibu
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Selasa, 05 Maret 2013
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LOCATION: Malibu, CA
PRICE: $10,750,000
SIZE: 2,571 square feet, 2 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Now that ladies apparel mogul Serge Azria (allegedly) coughed up around $41 million for super producer Jerry Weintraub's nearly seven acre ocean front compound that sprawls across the bluffs above Paradise Cove in Malibu (CA)* he's pushed his much more modest if still horrendously pricey Point Dume digs on the open market with an asking price of $10,750,000.
Through a parent company (Dutch LLC), Tunisian-born Mister Azria—not to be confused with his better known fashion designer brother Max Azria—owns, operates and creative directs a trio of upscale (mostly) women's clothing brands. The brands (JOIE, Equipment and Current/Elliot) are sold in a couple thousand high end retailers around the world and has experienced astonishing 30-plus percent revenue and profit growth over each of the last five years. In January it was announced that Mister S. Azria sold a 60% stake in his to a global private equity group for an as yet unascertained amount of money but one significant enough, we imagine, to make a few tongue's wag with envy.
Far be it from Your Mama to understand or pass judgement on the perpetually itchy footed real estate ways of rich and famous folks like Mister Azria and his missus Florence who, property records reveal, only purchased their .57 acre bluff top mini-estate on Point Dume just over three years ago for $7,540,000.
Current listing information shows the two-story shingled Cape Cod-ish ranch house was originally built in 1964, overlooks Point Dume's long, wide and scenic Westward Beach and measures in at 2,571 square feet with just two bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms.
We don't particularly like the mixy match of materials on the exterior—you got shingles, some stacked stone, some flag stone, and whatever that kooky driveway material is—and we don't much care for the comfy looking but decided snoozy mostly earth toned day-core** but we love the monochromatic salt-licked taupe palette on the exterior and we're super appreciative of the relative humbleness of the actual structure if a bit bowled away by the ten and some million clam price tag.
The catnippish pièce de résistance for Your Mama is the lone guest bedroom for it's obvious and merciful discouragement of large groups of people inviting themselves for the weekend to soak up some summertime sun and beach side glamour. "Oh, sorry, darlings," she purred. "We only have one guest bedroom here so, you see, there's simply not enough room for you, your life-partner (and his ego), your seven multi-cultural adopted children, their retinue of traveling nannies and your brother-in-law's cousin and her friend Sal."
Anyhoo, listing photos show a spacious, open concept main living area with high-gloss wood floors throughout and a shallow vaulted ceiling. A corner, kiva-style fireplace anchors the living room area and, in the dining area, two walls of glass windows slide open to a deep wraparound wood deck with unimpeded ocean and sky views.
The expensively equipped but otherwise perfectly ordinary center-island kitchen has direct access to the two-car garage and is plenty large enough to accommodate a professional chef for hire who will likely appreciate the usual complement of commercial-style stainless steel appliances, the copious cabinet with marble counter tops and the over-sized butcher block topped center island with veggie sink breakfast bar.
The guest bedroom (and private bathroom) are located on the main floor while the roomy master suite privately occupies the entire lower level. A pony wall divides the bedroom into a cozy seating area with fireplace and built-in book shelves from the bedroom area where an extra wide wall off telescopic glass sliders open to the room to an amorphous flagstone terrace and deck-shaded veranda. Generally speaking Your Mama is not fan of the so-called pony wall but we can see how how the addition of such allowed for optimal placement of the bed. The attached master bathroom is certainly big enough but it's also a banal blizzard of ecru and beige tiles broken up by a "carpet" of greenish-bluish mosaic tiles set in a repetitive wave border around a basketweave pattern.
Between the Pacific Coast Highway and the house there's a lighted tennis court—that's painted with lines that aren't for playing tennis—and a flagstone and foliage surrounded swimming pool and slighty elevated spa. It does not appear that there's a view of the ocean from the swimming pool but probably the located is better than on the bluff side of the house where—even if it's possible to install a swimming pool—it would be more exposed to the sometimes wind that often sweeps up the coast in the afternoons.
As the land slopes away from the house towards the bluff's edge meandering flagstone paths and stairways link several (flagstone) terrace lounging and dining areas and several small decks that jut out over the bluff to harness sweeping views up and down the classically southern Californian coastline. A somewhat rickety looking gated stairway zig-zags down the bluff to the street, sand and surf below.
In August 2011 Mister and Missus S. Azria sold a 1970s vintage French Regency-style house tucked up behind the Beverly Hills Hotel for $9,700,000. The high-flying couple decamped to the 90077 zip code where in April 2011 they shelled out $21,000,000 for a seven bedroom and 12 bathroom Paul Williams-designed Colonial that had long been owned by actress Jane Wyatt (the mother on Father Knows Best) and had been completely worked over and expanded by Tinseltown power player turned high end house flipper Sandy Gallin.
*Property records show the Weintraub spread was acquired with a Limited Liability Company that links back to a commercial address in Vernon (CA), seven or eight miles southeast of downtown L.A., that is easily linked to Mister Azria and his various upscale (mostly) women's clothing brands that include JOIE, Equipment and Current/Elliot.
**Call Your Mama a cynic—and we're called far worse on the regular—but all those sickly saccharine protestations of peace and love and joy and joie everywhere just make us feel squeamish. Nor do we also don't care for some of the finishes—high gloss wood floors in a beach house just scream out "scratch me with the sand between your toes and under you flip-flops.
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