I am forever amazed at how many people always tell me they would love to go into some of the more expensive ($1,000,000.00 plus) homes and have a look. First of all, a million bucks ain't what it used to be, especially in a city like Vancouver, we'll have to increase the price to, let's say, $2 million.  Secondly, like any career, I can tell you that it gets awfully boring after a while, the long hallways, the thousands of stairs, always trying to fit paintings in my jacket the whole time.  Honestly, it's often no different than working at a pizza parlour and eating pizza.  The thrill is sometimes not what it used to be though I have to admit that architectural beauty never fades. 

My point is, though, nobody ever said the rich always have good taste.  In fact, dear readers, the opposite can be true.  Often there are as many million dollar architectural catastrophies as any other price range, primarily because of the, shall we say, unique tastes of these high net worth individuals and their 'quirks'. Remember, only the poor are crazy.  The rich are merely eccentric....right?  Right. 

One of my favourites was the pink palace. My client and I had seen a few semi-decent properties but even he was getting a little discouraged at the lack of product in the $2 - $2.4 million range.

We drove up to what was going to be our fourth appointment of the day. The first red flag should clearly have been the pink striped front door.  The outside was also various shades of pink and, of course, my client was immediately suspicious. As a rather successful businessman, pink just wasn't his colour.  Black, definitely.  Pink...uhhh...no.  He looked at me as if to say 'why are you wasting my valuable time...you can be replaced'. I told him that the outside can always be painted and that the inside was probably worth a look. With a used-car salesman smile and a dust off of my plaid, leather elbow suite and we were inside in minutes.  I immediately knew I should have listened to my gut instincts when water from the pink eavestrophs splashed on my head as we went through the front door.

We peered inside and my eyes watered at the brightness.  Or was that the water still coming off my forehead?  Whatever.  When my pupils had finished dialating, my initial reaction was one of repulsed disbelief.  'No' I thought 'it couldnt' be'.  It was.  Sure enough the entire front hallway was smothered in pink marble. Pink marble.  Forget about who buys pink marble....who the hell MAKES pink marble?  A staircase spiraled up about 15 feet in the middle of the foyer, lined with a stunning pink carpet like a colossal candy cane. I swear I wouldn't have blinked an eye if an elf had slid down the bannister at that moment.  An elf or Liberace.

Rather than showing any form of common sense whatsoever, I escorted my struggling client into the main living room where we discovered an absolutely captivating and gargantuan pink marbled fireplace. Destitute and cornered, we scurried like rats through a door but tragically ended up in the kitchen, surrounded by giant, metallic pink appliances (I didn't even know you could buy pink appliances nor which appliance company would strive for what would be assured bankrupcy and the forteiture of their...pink slips) and yes, of course the kitchen sink was pink. Each bathroom offered a marvelous pink everything, including the toilets and every room had a devine pink decoration hanging from the pink doorknob.  I bet you think this is the end of the story...uh...no...not quite.

For, as we walked down the stairway to the front hall the owner appeared from the back yard. She smiled as she saw us and politely extended her perfectly manicured pink fingernails.  Her pink sweater set them off beautifully.  

Her dog?  Well, for the first time in my life I actually felt sorry for a pocket dog, for it too sported what appeared to be a genuine pink mink collar and matching booties.  I couldn't bare to guess what the dog's name was.  We ran for our nauseated lives.  Luckily, I always carry a spare bottle of Gravol in my glove compartment for such fashion disaster emergencies.

Moral of the story--Not everything is Pretty in Pink.  Please go to www.truerealestatestories.com for more from our collection.