Broken Chandeliers and Oven Fires: What Happens When a Real-Estate Pro Damages a Listing?
It was a total accident, and their worst nightmare
It was a total accident, and their worst nightmare
I was representing the seller of a four-bedroom Cape Cod-style home in Newton, Mass., just west of Boston. It was May 2016 and the house was listed for $929,000. It had a beautiful kitchen, with wood cabinets, granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances.
The house went under contract, and it was scheduled for a home inspection. I wanted the house to look pristine for the inspector and buyers, but the kitchen counters were cluttered, so I frantically threw things into drawers, and I put some glassware, baking tins and plates into the oven. When the inspector walked into the kitchen, he turned on the oven to test it without looking inside first. I was in another room at the time, but I smelled something burning, and then heard explosions as the glass shattered.
When I ran into the kitchen, I saw smoke and a small fire in the oven. There was broken glass all over the place, and the kitchen was smoky. Since it was a gas oven, it could have been much worse. The oven was damaged, and the seller wasn’t happy, so I gave her a $500 discount on the commission to offset any damage or credits she would have to give to the buyers. The buyers weren’t too upset, fortunately, because they were probably planning to update the appliances. The home ended up selling for $920,000 with the oven not functioning perfectly. Now, when I meet the inspector, we both still laugh about it.
In 1995, early in my real-estate career, I was representing the seller of a condominium in a luxury high-rise building on the ocean in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, just north of Fort Lauderdale. My seller had the mistaken impression that the dining room chandelier was excluded from the sale, so she had it taken down just before closing and replaced it with a less-expensive fixture.
When we did the walk-through the day before closing, the buyer noticed that the original chandelier, which was about 3 feet wide and custom-made from oyster shells and glass on a wrought-iron frame, was missing and, since the contract said that the unit was being sold furnished with everything included in the sale we needed to rectify the situation. The buyer was refusing to close because she loved the chandelier, and my commission—about $30,000, which I was going to split with the other agent—was in jeopardy. The original chandelier was packed in a box on the dining room table, and to make the deal happen, I told the seller I would replace her chandelier with a comparable one if we would rehang the original.
It wasn’t a difficult chandelier, and I’ve done a lot of electrical work in my own homes, so I took down the one hanging from the ceiling. As I started to remove the oyster-glass chandelier from the box, a hairless Sphynx cat jumped on the glass dining room table and rubbed against me. I had never seen a cat in the apartment during the entire listing process, so it scared the heck out of me. I dropped the chandelier, which broke, and I ended up having to pay $8,000 for two new chandeliers and electrician fees. Thankfully, the unit sold for $978,000 and my commission was sufficient to cover the costs. I was just happy the glass dining-room table didn’t break because then my whole commission would have been gone.
In October 2022, I was representing the owner of a Classic Seven co-op on the Upper East Side that was listed for $3.1 million. It had three bedrooms and 2,575 square feet of classic prewar details, with 13 windows and high ceilings. It also had the most particular seller ever. She trusted no one but myself to open up and show the apartment, and it took no less than 30 minutes to prepare and close up each time. There was a written checklist I had to follow, in a specific order, that included the proper angle at which to pull the string for the blinds, how to pick up and strategically fold, stack and put away the series of white sheets she had laid out as runners to protect the bedroom carpets and wearing shoe covers and gloves. She would watch everything from Switzerland via her security cameras and would call me to correct the smallest details.
Prospective buyers were told not to touch anything and to stay on designated walking areas, which were placed a distance from the Ming vases. If they wanted to see the interior of a cupboard or closet, I would refer to myself as Vanna White and would respond to what they instructed. I always warned them ahead of time that she was probably watching and that anything they said or did would be recorded. Buyers would enter with their guard up, which made it difficult. One day, after a showing, I couldn’t get one of the blinds to lower properly. I panicked, but I notified her immediately, and she had a maintenance worker inspect it. The cord had come off the internal spool, and even though it was a quick fix, the seller was livid and ready to withdraw the exclusive.
The only thing that saved the listing was offering to pay $300 to fully replace the mechanism to restore it to new condition. Although there were incidents that upset her during other showings, thankfully, nothing else was ever broken. This co-op, which ended up closing for $2.95 million in October 2023, was the most high-stakes deal I ever worked on.
—Edited from interviews by Robyn A. FriedmanÂ
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Georgetown agent Jamie Peva blends history and real estate on Instagram, turning local stories into a powerful sales strategy.
On a recent morning in Georgetown—Washington, D.C.’s oldest neighborhood—real-estate agent Jamie Peva strode down leafy N Street, brimming with historical tidbits.
Jackie Kennedy once lived on the street, he said. So did Ben Bradlee, former executive editor of the Washington Post, along with a former Miss America and a powerful U.S. Senator. Bradlee’s widow, author Sally Quinn, and Eric Schmidt, former CEO of Google, own stately homes there.
“I’ve seen a picture of Lyndon Johnson coming out of this house,” said Peva, passing a Federal-style brick mansion. “Also, the Beatles went to a lawn party here.”
Peva, a 60-year-old agent with Washington Fine Properties, has sold Georgetown real estate for over three decades, often traversing the neighborhood by bicycle. Of the roughly 2,500 houses in the historic neighborhood, he has been involved in the sale of 460, he estimated. A self-styled historian of the neighborhood, he knows stories behind its houses and their owners going back generations.
With a knack for lively storytelling, he shares his knowledge with some 37,500 Instagram followers, who have made Peva—sporting the bow ties he has worn since boarding school—an unlikely social-media influencer. Many of his followers are locals, and most have no plans to buy or sell real estate—until they do. It is then, according to Peva, that his spirited reels bring him to mind.
“It’s the digital version of a refrigerator magnet,” he said.
After Peva’s first video in November 2023, his eponymous Instagram account sparked a 10% increase in sales volume in the first year, and another 20% the next, he estimated. “It’s been very good for business, there is no question about it,” he said.
But Peva’s posts have also made him a local celebrity. As he walked down N street, the driver of a Mercedes station wagon slowed down to honk and wave. A lady walking a large dark gray dog stopped to ask what he was filming that day (a reel about a Colonial-era bottling plant.) Peva knew the dog from walking his two springers, Jumpy and Peggy-O, in the neighborhood.
“I need to make a video about the pooches of Georgetown,” he mused.
A growing number of real-estate agents now use social media to sell, and some have millions of followers with reels featuring ultraluxury pads, selling tips or reality TV-style reports on their daily lives. While Peva posts about his listings—and sometimes those of other agents—he mostly focuses on Georgetown history, local businesses and community events, saying his goal is to benefit both his business and the neighborhood.
“If we don’t find something genuinely interesting and worth sharing, we won’t do it,” said Peva’s daughter, Violet Peva, a New York social-media strategist who films, edits and posts his reels. “We cover many topics, not just real-estate information.”
Peva is originally from Connecticut, but has lived in Georgetown for over 30 years, currently in a cottage-style house with a white picket fence. Over the years, Georgetown has changed. The Georgetown Set, a powerful group of Cold War-era residents whose Sunday-night potluck dinners are said to have swayed U.S. policy, has long faded away. The community is still home to high-profile Washingtonians, including a Republican senator and several cabinet members. But it increasingly also attracts technology and finance executives, according to Peva. He now routinely signs nondisclosure agreements, ensuring privacy for wealthy clients. The shift has made him rethink his marketing approach.
“For years, a big part of our Georgetown business was made up of people who maintained a low profile,” he said. Real-estate agents were similarly low-key. Today, curb appeal is more important, he said, and agents are promoting themselves more. “As this change was underfoot, I was thinking that I needed to evolve myself too,” he said.
Though his own social-media use is mostly limited to following sailing accounts, he asked his daughter to help him post his listings online. Violet, now 26, started coming to D.C. once a month to film his reels. After an early video, on a condominium building called the Elliott, her sister Fern called her to report: “Daddy’s blowing up on Instagram,” Violet recalled. The reel got over 50,000 views. The next two each drew over 300,000. Peva’s most popular post ever, with over 838,000 views, was about the Grateful Dead playing in Georgetown. Sometimes, Peva interviews Georgetowners such as Quinn, the author, or Jamie Stachowski, the owner of a local butcher shop.
Peva, who majored in history in college, now spends up to two hours a day on research, usually in the morning while on his stationery bike. Online, he pores over old newspapers or the Library of Congress website, and he has a collection of articles and books—in and out of print—about Georgetown.
Companies often approach Peva for promotional posts, he said, but he turns them down, feeling that followers would lose interest in constant commercials. One exception is a recent paid post on Mount Vernon, the former home of George Washington. Peva wanted to share its history, he said, and didn’t want to lose the opportunity to another Instagrammer.
Anthony Arend, a professor at Georgetown University, has lived in his current home for 19 years without any plans to sell or buy real estate. But he follows Peva and often likes his posts.
“He is very charismatic, he is energetic, and he obviously knows a lot about the community,” said Arend, who has referred house-hunting friends to Peva.
One of Peva’s biggest deals—the $10.5 million sale of a 19th-century Italianate mansion—came after he made two 2024 reels featuring the property. In March, he sold the longtime O Street home of Tim and Jane Matz for $5.8 million after featuring it on his Instagram. Peva had showed them the home 25 years earlier, with Violet in a baby carrier on his back.
Last year, Kate Watts, 49, a digital consultant, called Peva to sell her late father’s three-bedroom house on Q Street; her husband had seen Peva on Instagram. In an October reel, Peva praised the architecture of the house, designed by modernist Hugh Newell Jacobsen. Halfway through, he mentioned an open house the next day, ending with an upbeat: “Did I also mention this house is for sale? $3.75 million!” The reel got 27,000 views, the open house was packed, and the buyers made an offer at the list price on the same day.