Xanadu Excelsior
At last, a residence for the clueless nouveau riche.
The name? Luxuria.
The audience? Rubes who want to trumpet — as garishly as possible — that they have money.
The location? Where else could it be but the world capital of tastelessness (not to mention mail and wire fraud)?
“Luxuria is the very definition of grand estate living in Boca Raton,” says a lavish four-color supplement in The New York Times. “With superbly conceived world-class amenities and a discreet staff to indulge your every whim.”
Someone who can plunk down millions for a home can’t be all stupid. But the copy treats readers as if they are.
First, there’s the hint that buying into this pile will grant them a whole new status.
“To most, this lifestyle is off limits,” the piece proclaims. “To you, it’s without limits. Maintenance- and hassle-free, Luxuria is bound to make your other homes quite jealous.”
Well, maybe. But not if one of them is in a truly distinguished co-op like New York’s San Remo. And given the tiny universe — there’s room for only 26 families — the copy is strangely over the top.
Take the section on the amenities, ranging from the “grand two-story lobby and its gravity-defying wall of water, to the private movie theater, to the oceanfront lounge with its saltwater fish tank…” Sounds like an ad for one of Steve Wynn’s casinos.
Then there’s the headline for the page on the bath facilities: “Soak Regal.” Does this mean you’re going to be royally soaked?
And why bother telling prospects, many of whom have never heard of this palazzo, that there’s a new sales center (as opposed to the old one)? Why, the place isn’t even built yet.
Finally, imagine the fights as 26 families compete for reservations in the “seven reclining, tiered seats” in the private screening room.
Interested? You can dial a toll-free number. Luxuria opens in 2008.
