Hôtel Georges V

I find myself becoming more and more reclusive spending most of my time in my (junior) suite and venturing only as far as Le Bar, La Galerie or Le Cinq when I do leave the confines of my sanctum sanctorum. Reasons to go forth from the hotel are becoming harder to reconcile and it is evident to me that I am living in the very center of the universe where everything and everyone will present themselves in due time and elegant proportion.

This is not a Howard Hughes scenario where dark forces have done away with me so as to make use of my assets or reputation. Those people always circulate discrediting rumors when they’ve gotten rid of some recalcitrant nuisance and are keeping them ‘alive’ for the purpose of cover. You haven’t heard stories of me growing ten-inch fingernails or watching Ice Station Zebra forty-seven times a day though a female companion once took to watching Hitch a few hundred times a week on pay-per-view to the extent that the cable company called to inquire if there was a malfunction with the system. I assured them that the malfunction, to use their term, could be found elsewhere in the household. They of the dark side always like to trivialize and ridicule those they have dispensed with whilst helping themselves to whatever their ravenous appetite craves. This is a long standing pattern of behavior obvious to anyone who is the least bit observant and in possession of a prehensile mind.

I do not suggest that the Georges V is the best hotel in the world--merely that it is the only one.

Used cars

Lately I have seen interest in classic and exotic cars revive after what we will politely refer to as the recent economic downturn. That's not to say that everyone has funds sufficient to buy a Ferrari GTO or 412P or even a Berlinetta Lusso for that matter. Cars that you've owned and swore to yourself you'd never drive again are starting to fetch stellar sums of money which is a clear warning that a bubble is reforming for an upcoming burst that no one could possibly have forseen like every other bubble that ever was.

The trick in car collecting--also known as flipping for profit which you affect not to need--is in acquiring a car with provenance and chain-of-snobbery intact. A friend of mine owned a Ferrari that previously belonged to Françoise Sagan, a fact that increased its value. Someone else owned something that had been Steve McQueen's at one time resulting in a valuation at least double that of a similar car owned by some other guy somewhere. It explains why a friend of mine engraved an inscription from Mr. Rolls to Mr. Royce on a silver hip flask--"Dude, epic party!" or some similar sentiment thereby rendering the cost of silver a moot consideration in the sale price of the item.

All this is neither here nor there unless you are the first to realize that a celebrity connection exists with the car you are flipping. I mean collecting. If the party who is selling the car to you knows that it had been owned by Eric Clapton, the Shah of Iran or Porfirio Rubirosa, you are going to pay the price for it and then where is your profit margin? The essential is to find a car whose buyer is completely unaware of the car's history and therefore willing to sell it to you for three back of book.

The best approach for anyone seeking to purchase a car prior to establishing its celebrity provenance would be to visit a rental car agency's sell-off department and acquire the most expensive offering they have with the assurance that, at some point, a celebrity drove the car and you should now be able to flip it for a sum exceeding what you paid for it.