A MANSION IN HONG KONG’S EXCLUSIVE PEAK NEIGHBOURHOOD POISED TO SET A PRICE RECORD

A new mansion in an exclusive Hong Kong neighbourhood known as The Peak is said to have an offer for HK$1.2 billion (US$153 million) from a mainland Chinese buyer. If the deal goes through, the sale will translate to HK$255,000 per square foot, a record for a residential property in Asia.

The mansion, located on Barker Road, the same street as Alibaba founder Jack Ma’s HK$1.5 billion mansion, has 4,700 square feet of living space across four levels and features sweeping views of Victoria Harbour and city skylines, according to Chinese-language daily Hong Kong Economic Times (HKET).

The mansion was built on the site of a Grade II-listed, Spanish-style villa, known as Villa Blanca. The villa was owned by Hong Kong businessman Haking Wong, most famous for his commercial optical products, for nearly two decades from 1978 to 1998.

CSI Properties acquired the villa in 2011 for HK$200 million, and paid another HK$103.2 million four years later to expand the site, according to the public filings.

The developer began marketing the mansion earlier this year. A buyer from mainland China has offered HK$1.2 billion and the deal is expected to close soon, HKET reported, citing market sources.

CSI Properties did not immediately respond to a request for comment, and Mansion Global could not independently confirm details about the potential buyer or sale.

The current unit price record for a residential property in Asia was set in 2021, when an apartment at a development called Mount Nicholson sold for HK$140,800 per square foot, or a total of HK$639.8 million.

Hong Kong, where prime properties on average cost more than HK$34,700 per square foot, was ranked as the world’s second most expensive market following Monaco, according to a recent report by Knight Frank.

Bloomberg was the first global media to report the sale.

This article originally appeared in Mansion Global.

Many luxury hotels only build on their gilded reputations with each passing decade. But others are less fortunate. Here are five long-gone grandes dames that fell from grace—and one that persists, but in a significantly diminished form.

The Proto-Marmont |

The Garden of Allah, Los Angeles

A magnet for celebrities, the Garden of Allah was once the scene-making equivalent of today’s Chateau Marmont. Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner’s affair allegedly started there and Humphrey Bogart lived in one of its bungalows for a time.

Crimean expat Alla Nazimova leased a grand home in Hollywood after World War I, but soon turned it into a hotel, where she prioritised glamorous clientele. Others risked being ejected by guards and a fearsome dog dubbed the Hound of the Baskervilles. Demolished in the 1950s, the site’s now a parking lot.

The Failed Follow-Up |

Hotel Astor, New York City

The Astor family hoped to repeat their success when they opened this sequel to their megahit Waldorf Astoria hotel in 1904. It became an anchor of the nascent Theater District, buzzy (and naughty) enough to inspire Cole Porter to write in “High Society”: “Have you heard that Mimsie Starr…got pinched in the Astor Bar?”

That bar soon gained another reputation. “Gentlemen who preferred the company of other gentlemen would meet in a certain section of the bar,” said travel expert Henry Harteveldt of consulting firm Atmosphere Research. By the 1960s, the hotel had lost its lustre and was demolished; the 54-storey One Astor Plaza skyscraper was built in its place.

The Island Playground |

Santa Carolina Hotel, Bazaruto Archipelago, Mozambique

In the 1950s, colonial officers around Africa treated Mozambique as an off-duty playground. They flocked, in particular, to the Santa Carolina, a five-star hotel on a gorgeous archipelago off the country’s southern coast.

Run by a Portuguese businessman and his wife, the resort included an airstrip that ferried visitors in and out. Ask locals why the place was eventually reduced to rubble, and some whisper that the couple were cursed—and that’s why no one wanted to take over when the business collapsed in the ’70s. Today, seeing the abandoned, crumbled ruins and murals bleached by the sun, it’s hard to dismiss their superstitions entirely.

The Tourism Gimmick |

Bali Hai Raiatea, French Polynesia

The overwater bungalow, a shorthand for barefoot luxury around the world, began in French Polynesia—but not with the locals. Instead, it was a marketing gimmick cooked up by a trio of rascally Americans. They moved to French Polynesia in the late 1950s, and soon tried to capitalise on the newly built international airport and a looming tourism boom.

That proved difficult because their five-room hotel on the island of Raiatea lacked a beach. They devised a fix: building rooms on pontoons above the water. They were an instant phenomenon, spreading around the islands and the world—per fan site OverwaterBungalows.net , there are now more than 9,000 worldwide, from the Maldives to Mexico. That first property, though, is no more.

The New England Holdout |

Poland Springs Resort, Poland, Maine

The Ricker family started out as innkeepers, running a stagecoach stop in Maine in the 1790s. When Hiram Ricker took over the operation, the family expanded into the business by which it would make its fortune: water. Thanks to savvy marketing, by the 1870s, doctors were prescribing Poland Spring mineral water and die-hards were making pilgrimages to the source.

The Rickers opened the Poland Spring House in 1876, and eventually expanded it to include one of the earliest resort-based golf courses in the country, a barber shop, dance studio and music hall. By the turn of the century, it was among the most glamorous resort complexes in New England.

Mismanagement eventually forced its sale in 1962, and both the water operation and hospitality holdings went through several owners and operators. While the water venture retains its prominence, the hotel has weathered less well, becoming a pleasant—but far from luxurious—mid-market resort. Former NYU hospitality professor Bjorn Hanson says attempts at upgrading over the decades have been futile. “I was a consultant to a developer in the 1970s to return the resort to its ‘former glory,’ but it never happened.”