Home Sellers Can Get Carried Away When It Comes to Greenery

Q: Has a houseplant ever upstaged a showing?

Mercedes Menocal Gregoire

Senior global real-estate adviser and associate broker

Sotheby’s International Realty, NYC

It was an estate sale, a duplex apartment in a prewar building on the Upper East Side. There was a humongous cactus in the living room, the kind you see in the desert in California. It was like a gigantic Christmas tree, at least 10 feet tall, with tentacles coming out and big, big spines all over the place. When you walked in, the only thing you saw was that monstrosity. There isn’t a word to describe this thing. It was like “Little Shop of Horrors.”

I got pricked the first day I went to see the apartment. It was the summer and I was wearing linen pants and a Tory Burch tunic shirt. I went too close to the thing while I was talking to someone and got caught in one of the branches. It ruined my blouse.

The owners had died, and their children didn’t want to stage the apartment. The first week I said, “We at least have to move the cactus,” and they were like, “Oh no, we don’t want to pay for it.”

So I volunteered to move the cactus. I really wanted to sell this apartment.

It took three guys in protective gear with a chain saw. They started cutting the branches, cutting the branches. It took three hours. They filled 30 or 40 bags—big industrial ones. It cost like $600. I gave the super $100 in cash and he called someone to remove the bags.

We sold the duplex for US$3.5 million. Of course, the children weren’t happy with the price.

David Mazujian

Real-estate agent

The Corcoran Group, East Hampton, N.Y.

The listing in the Hamptons was very pastoral, very private, priced $1 million to $2 million. I would say the owner was a bit of a horticulturalist. There were huge plants that in the summertime would go outside but which came inside in October. I was showing the house in the fall. When I came into the house, I was overwhelmed. There were huge pots on the floor. They were beautiful plants, but it just blocked the view.

ILLUSTRATION: DAVID BAMUNDO/THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

It was a huge challenge navigating the living space during showings. I was concerned with liability. You don’t want anybody tripping over the plants.

One potential buyer couldn’t get through the door, literally. It was a back door, and there was a very large terra-cotta pot with these large banana leaves coming out.

Apparently, one time a buyer did move the pot and one of the big leaves was damaged. That became an issue with the owner.

So I learned early on that we have to do our best to walk around the plants and not move them and not touch them. I would say, “Oh, I’m really sorry, the owner is a horticulturalist and let’s just be careful as we walk around this plant and slightly move the leaves.”

I love plants, but if I were trying to sell a house, those things would be gone yesterday.

Alexandria Ludlow

Sales associate

Summit Sotheby’s International Realty, Southern Utah

The house was 11,000 square feet and very old-fashioned. It would be a great place to host a murder mystery situation—marble floors, candelabras everywhere, a knight in shining armor. And on every surface and in every corner, there was a fake plant of some kind. There was fake ivy everywhere—over the tops of the windows, on top of the cabinets in the kitchen. In the master bathroom, they had a 4-foot vase with another 4 feet of fake pink lilies. In the kitchen, there were lots of gerbera daisy-type silk flowers and a wreath that was 4 or 5 feet in diameter. It took two of us to move it for the photos. They could have filmed “Jumanji” in that house.

I gave the owners my feedback for how to spruce up the place for staging. They did everything I asked them to. They had to hire a junk-removal service. They said they filled two dumpsters full of the fake plants—the ones they were willing to get rid of. They filled all the walk-in closets with all the other ones. They were so attached to some of these floral arrangements.

The weirder part is that the house was being sold fully furnished, except for the fake plants. When we were in negotiations, I’d say, “Everything except the family heirloom piano and the fake greenery are included.” The buyer was like, “Are you joking?”

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.”