Luxury World: The Past, Present and Future of Luxury Brands

by Tungate, Mark

  But it was difficult to feel the chill when you stood in Antibes looking out at the Mediterranean.

  The Côte d’Azur benefits from what one French journalist called ‘la rançon du prestige’ – the ransom of prestige. It is so desirable that, while prices may fluctuate, they are unlikely to collapse. Philip Weiser explains: ‘The Côte is a very limited area in terms of size. It’s bordered on the one hand by the sea, and on the other by the mountains. Development is almost at a standstill – and there are strict regulations to ensure that it stays that way. This means that, whenever a property becomes available, it is very quickly acquired.’

  What lies behind the almost mystical allure of the Riviera? Weiser cites the culture, the climate, stability, security and easy access from major European capitals. Nowhere on the Côte is more than 45 minutes from an airport – and yet it seems the perfect escape. The writer Somerset Maugham famously described it as ‘a sunny place for shady people’. Jim Ring uses the phrase to kick off his marvellously entertaining study Riviera: The rise and rise of the Côte d’Azur (2004). It was, he writes, ‘the world’s first major tourist destination’. This sun-baked ribbon of coast, which had been an outpost of the Roman Empire, fascinated 18th-century travellers. They came on a cultural pilgrimage to La Turbie, where they sought the remains of a monument to the military might of Augustus. ‘They were... fascinated by this ruined emblem of imperial Rome, because they saw their country as Rome’s successor. Insular, presumptuous, ignorant of foreign languages and, above all, rich, they were, of course, English.’

  The Brits have enjoyed a long romance with the Côte d’Azur. At first merely a way station on the Grand Tour, it was popularized as a destination in its own right by the former Lord Chancellor, Lord Brougham. Detained on his way to Rome in December 1834 by a cholera outbreak – which had forced the Italians to shut the border – Brougham settled in for the duration at Cannes. At that time it was ‘a fishing village of no more than 300 inhabitants, with two streets of the most humble Provençal houses’. But the sunlight, warmth, sea views and good food – Brougham particularly appreciated the bouillabaisse – soon wove their spell. He bought a plot of land, had a villa built on it, and almost single-handedly turned Cannes into a fashionable resort.

  The number of pale migrants from the British Isles rose steadily each winter, but their number increased sharply with the arrival in the 1860s of the Paris–Lyon–Mediterranée railway. This was the train that in 1922 was to be given a new, achingly romantic sobriquet: Le Train Bleu. Jim Ring writes: ‘At 1 pm sharp, with all the ceremony of an ocean liner, the express would draw out of the grey windswept Gare Maritime... To draw up the blind the following morning was to experience deliverance. The spectral cold, the gloom, the damp, the fog, the grey had vanished, to be replaced by a sunlit world of terracotta roofs, white houses, blue Mediterranean bays, high green hills with a glint of Alpine snow, and vegetation reminiscent of the tropics.’

  The photographer Jacques Lartigue was seduced, writing in 1923 that ‘luxury becomes beautiful and almost real under the sun’. He thought of the Riviera as a place where you could shrug off your stiff city personality and the clothes that went with it, ‘where you could walk soundlessly in tennis shoes or espadrilles, where every boutique offers joyous futilities’ (Lartigue’s Riviera, 1997).

  These elements, then, were what they all came for: the artists and the writers, the models and the photographers, the wealthy settlers and finally the package holidaymakers. The formula remained unchanged for over a century. Even Parisians, who had regarded the whole hot, savage, mosquito-ridden coast with disdain, eventually warmed to it. Although Ring suggests that the Riviera was brutalized by post-war architecture – particularly the hideous high-rise creations of the 1960s – he admits that visitors can still experience its old charms. ‘The coast, the sun, the arc of the shore, headland after headland running out into the blue water, sails gleaming against the purple sea, these will remain.’ As with a great many luxuries, however, what the hoteliers and property developers are really selling is a dream. ‘Much more powerful than the reality of the Riviera is the whole idea of perpetual human happiness that it promises.’

  THE BUSINESS OF VILLAS

  France largely avoided the sub-prime mortgage debacle because its banks had historically based loans on the capacity of the borrower to repay, rather than on property values. Nevertheless, French property prices plummeted at the beginning of 2009. Some mentioned a figure of 12 per cent – others went as far as 20. This was seen as a heavy correction to an over-inflated market, where prices had risen by 140 per cent in little more than a decade, according to French real estate agents’ association FNAIM. For buyers eyeing the Côte d’Azur, it was a chance to pick up a bargain.

  The term ‘bargain’ is relative, of course. Philip Weiser’s portfolio of properties starts at about €1 million, rising to as much as €250 million, with the average price coming in at around €6 million. ‘The vastly wealthy are easier to deal with than the merely well-off,’ says Weiser. ‘When you’re incredibly rich, you can afford to tick nine out of 10 boxes on the list of what you want from a property. You can almost afford perfection. But others cannot – and that’s when the negotiations start.’

  For those with an eye on the future, he advised investing in one of the limited number of new developments on the Riviera. Construction companies were obliged under French law to complete the building work, even if sales had slowed. Not wishing to be left with an empty building on their hands, they were likely to sell the units at highly advantageous prices. Investors were counselled to snap up these cut-price apartments, rent them out to people who wanted to experience the Riviera touch, and then sell them when the economy recovered.

  As you may have surmised, Weiser was a marketing man before he became a property dealer. For a long time, he was international marketing director of the hotel chain Trust House Forte. Later, he ran a chain of stylish serviced apartments for visitors to London. He says he ‘stumbled into’ real estate when he was asked to help out a struggling estate agency here in the South of France. He nursed the business back to health, acquiring half of it along the way. This he then sold to create Carlton International.

  At the time of writing, the company has 17 negotiators with wide-ranging linguistic abilities: along with French and English there are Russian, Arabic, Dutch and German speakers. Between 80 and 90 per cent of Weiser’s clients are ‘non-French’. He brushes aside the familiar accusation that foreigners have pillaged the coast and pushed prices out of reach of potential French buyers. ‘The property has always been available to whomsoever can afford to buy it. You could just as easily say that the French decided to cash in. And if you take the entire market in the region – not just the very top end – French transactions probably exceed foreign transactions.’

  Carlton International, of course, specializes in overseas clients. In this respect, the internet is a vital marketing tool. ‘It’s the ultimate brochure. You can place links on other property sites all over the world, you can create a coherent brand identity, and you can build mini-sites that deal with specific projects or properties. Looking back, it’s hard to see how the real estate industry managed without it.’

  But Weiser has by no means turned his back on traditional print. Working with local contract publishing company Luxarro, he created a tri-annual English-language lifestyle and interiors magazine called Carpe Diem, which aims to capture the zest of life on the Riviera. Typical articles might include an interview with a local chef, a piece on the connection between Saint Tropez and the cinema, and a handful of discreetly promotional tours of some the properties on Carlton’s books. Printed on thick, matt paper, with ravishing colour photography, it is less a throwaway item than a collectible coffee table book. The magazine is sent directly to the names on Carlton’s database and has about 50,000 readers. At first the scheme seems counter-intuitive: it’s a good idea to constantly remind consumers of your brand values when you’re in t
he fashion business, but is it really worth adopting the same tactic when you’re selling houses? Weiser replies, ‘You have to remember that most of our clients buy these properties as second homes. And on average, they change them every five years.’

  Really? Why? ‘Changing desires, changing circumstances. Their children are getting a bit older so they want to be nearer the coast. Their business is doing well so they want to upgrade. Or vice versa, of course.’

  The need to retain clients who chop and change villas the way others might upgrade their motor cars gives rise to another crucial element of Weiser’s operation: after sales. ‘The ironic thing about this business is that you can’t really sell somebody a property – they can only buy it from you. You can show them around, explain all the features, handle the meeting professionally and politely – but at the end of the day, if the property doesn’t tick all their boxes, or they just don’t feel right about it, they won’t buy. Once they’ve committed, however, our real job begins.’

  Carlton’s renovation and decoration department can liaise with clients to ensure that the property lives up to their dreams. The company’s services include interior design, purchase and installation of materials and supervision of the work. It has used the same qualified contractors for years. The company can also handle garden design, landscaping, planting, the installation of sprinklers and the construction of swimming pools and tennis courts.

  And once the property is shipshape, Carlton makes sure it stays that way. Its property management department ‘takes the worry out of home ownership’ by ensuring that the house, gardens and pool look their best at all times. There are weekly garden and pool maintenance visits, mail is collected and administrative tasks like paying bills, insurance and staff are all taken care of. There are regular security visits and Carlton oversees repairs ‘in the unlikely event’ of a break-in. Owners need not fuss about dripping taps, storm leaks or even shorted light bulbs.

  ‘For me, that’s the real difference between luxury and any other industry. The sale is only a small part of it – what really matters is what happens afterwards. These consumers want to be loyal to you. All you have to do in return is give them the very best.’

  Another thing they admire – indeed, demand – is expertise. Luxury consumers, it turns out, are suspicious of dilettantes. ‘I once made the mistake of thinking I could charter yachts at the same time. But the people who were into yachts said ‘What does a property company know about yachts?’ and the people who were interested in property became confused about the brand. I now believe that the secret of building a successful business at the high end is to specialize. In this business, experience and credibility are everything.’

  9

  Deluxe nomads

  * * *

  ‘I know what guests want from a luxury hotel – and it’s not vanilla.’

  My second visit to Monte Carlo within the space of a few months is far more glamorous than the first. It begins at a heliport whose tiny departure lounge is discreetly tucked away behind a large fish tank in a remote corner of the Nice Côte d’Azur airport. Today, at least, I am the sole passenger. Out on the pad, a disconcertingly small helicopter winds up. At a signal from one of the ground crew I walk out to the machine, stooping instinctively in the downdraft from the blades. The crewmember stashes my bag in the back and I take a seat next to the pilot. Seconds later, my stomach swoops as we lift up and scythe out over the bay.

  Rotor blades are often described as ‘clattering’, but the sound in the cockpit is a high whine accompanied by a bass judder that I can feel in my shoes. Below us, the deep blue waves are flecked with whitecaps. To my left a toy-town Nice glides by; I catch a glimpse of the bright yellow Corsica ferry and the war memorial in its rocky niche below the cliff. Then we point our nose at the misty horizon, moving fast now over a sea dappled with patches of silver.

  From the air, the pinkish beige towers of Monte Carlo resemble the work of maniacal termites. At touchdown, a black mini-van is on hand to meet me. Within 15 minutes I am standing on the balcony of my room at the Hotel de Paris, looking out over the harbour. The big white yachts are still anchored there, exactly where I left them.

  So this is how the other half lives, I think to myself. Welcome to the world of the deluxe nomads.

  MONTE CARLO: THE BRAND

  Monte Carlo is one those destinations that will be forever labelled ‘playground of the rich’, along with a handful of others like St Tropez, Mustique, the Hamptons, Capri and St Moritz. One can easily imagine the colourful labels on the steamer trunk. But Monte Carlo is unique in that it is, quite literally, a luxury brand. A large chunk of it is owned by a company called Monte-Carlo SBM, which is currently expanding worldwide in the form of branded hotel and leisure properties.

  To understand how this came about, we need to take a trip back in time. Like other destinations along this strip of coast, Monaco (of which Monte Carlo is the commercial centre) was settled by the Romans, who appreciated its protected harbour and used it as a port of call on the way to Gaul. With the collapse of the Roman Empire, the little settlement receded into the mists of time, only to emerge in the 13th century when it became an outpost of Genoa.

  On 8 January 1297, Francesco Grimaldi, leader of a Genoese clan embroiled in power struggles with rival factions throughout the region, led a daring night raid on the fortress of Monaco. Known as Il Malizia (‘The Cunning’), Grimaldi is said to have approached the fortress disguised as a Franciscan monk. Having thus gained entry, Grimaldi and his men took the fortress. Grimaldi established himself as de facto ruler, succeeded by his stepson Rainier I. The Genoese did not acknowledge either of them as legitimate monarchs; that honour went to Rainier’s son Charles I of Monaco, who is considered the founder of the dynasty that continues to rule today.

  For the early part of its history, Monaco was a rather unimpressive city-state, living on the duty it was able to levy on the wine, tobacco and lemons that passed through its port. And when in 1848 the nearby communities of Roquebrune and Menton declared their independence from the tiny empire, the future of the principality looked bleak. Having noted that spas were all the rage along the Côte d’Azur, Prince Florestan envisaged a resort that would comprise a hotel, villas and entertainment – notably gaming. Gambling was illegal in France and this represented a considerable opportunity for Monaco.

  When Charles III came to power in 1856 he launched himself into the task of turning his father’s vision into reality. The ‘Société des Bains de Mer et du Cercle des Etrangers à Monaco’ was founded as a bathing establishment and casino operator. Construction of the Casino de Monaco began on 13 May 1858, on a stretch of land called the Plateau de Spélugues that had previously been planted with olive bushes and lemon and orange trees. The metamorphosis of Monaco had begun. Progress was halting, however. When the casino opened on 18 February 1863, it attracted few customers. As Jim Ring observes in his book Riviera (see previous chapter, ‘Haute property’), Monaco was still four hours from Nice by carriage or choppy boat ride across the bay. Why make the effort when there were plenty of glittering diversions close at hand?

  A solution arrived in the form of a man of experience: François Blanc. The casino and spa at Monaco were based on the German model, with which Blanc was extremely familiar. The son of an impoverished Provençal tax collector, he was a former card sharp, stock market speculator and casino owner who had made a fortune transforming the tiny Germanic principality of Bad Homburg into a gambling and leisure destination. His nickname was ‘The Magician’.

  François Blanc and his twin brother Louis – from whom he was inseparable – had become fascinated by card tricks during their child-hood after watching a magician at a circus. Quitting the family home to join the circus, they became expert prestidigitators in their own right, while making money from gambling on the side. The pair led a picaresque existence, heading a gambling house in Marseille and later becoming stock market speculators in Bordeaux. After being fined for what
amounted to insider trading (a contact would tip them off in advance about fluctuating share prices on the Paris bourse) they turned up in Paris, where they headed a gaming room under the bustling arcades of the Palais Royal. An 1836 proclamation outlawing gambling in France hustled them on to Luxembourg, where they opened yet another establishment. It was here that they attracted the attention of the ruler of Homburg, who asked them to help him turn his impoverished principality into a gaming centre. The pair accepted the concession and pretty soon Bad (as in ‘bath’) Homburg was flourishing thanks to a spa, a casino, luxury hotels and restaurants.

  François Blanc’s twin brother died in 1852. François had lost his wife earlier that year. In order to shake himself out of depression, he began to cast around for a means of boosting his income in winter, as Bad Homburg was essentially a summer gambling destination. His avid gaze inevitably fell on Monaco. After a little research, he learned that the railway that was shortly to reach Nice might eventually be extended to the principality. With a little promotion, Monaco could be transformed into a winter gambling destination par excellence.

  A meeting between Charles III of Monaco and François Blanc appears to have been engineered by the prince’s lawyer, a smooth-sounding gentleman named Monsieur Eynaud. According to Jim Ring, he advised the prince that ‘Blanc is colossally rich... he is a past master of the art of dissimulating the green cloth of the gambling tables behind a veil of elegance and pleasure.’ Accompanied by his young second wife, Marie, François Blanc arrived in Monaco to take up its gambling and leisure concession in 1863.