I would rarely say this about a property: please don’t buy it. Begging you! I mean, I fall in love with real estate all the time. I drool over doors, landscaping, corinth columns (remind me of my very first boyfriend’s house) marble hearths, coffee colored hardwoods, wide-planked oak and bamboo, farmhouse sinks in kitchens, heated master bath floors, onyx and white Carerra and jacuzzi spas and tubs ALL THE TIME. I have been in every expensive house in Dallas, from the Hicks residence to Mt. Vernon, Lisa Blue’s masterpiece on DeLoache. Hunter Mahan’s to Lee Trevino’s to Plano to Frisco to Southlake, to Vaquero and I absolutely love Fort Worth dirt! Alice Walton’s! I’ve seen them all from $60,000 (tried to Master-Charge it) to $100 million. And do you know what house caught my heart, made me want to DUMP my current home faster than a hot potato loaded with sour cream and bacon? What home made me want to not just freaking CHEAT on my house in a New York minute but totally abandon it, forget it, ride off into the sunset across the border (maybe safer to hide out in Carmel) with it and just say adios amigo?
The Residences at the Ritz Carlton. Residence 602.