Palm life

A reporter, writing in one of the local rags recently, observed that “Palm Beach does not take itself too seriously.” Er… wrong. Very wrong. Palm Beach takes itself very seriously indeed and, as the location with the greatest density of billionaires, why not? And the two things it takes most seriously are money and property. As I have remarked here before, property prices are close to being a religion in Palm Beach. Not a day goes by without the local “shiny sheet” reporting the latest property price news, mostly a happily reassuring dollar figure for this condo or that beachfront palace. Given this, well, preoccupation, it is no surprise that we now have two new concepts in property. These are “property promiscuity” and “polydomary.

If you subscribe to The Spectator, there’s a fair chance you are a committed reader. Of books, I mean. Books are your friends, they don’t frighten you. Even long books. But here’s a behavioral oddity that I’ve noticed in others, and in myself. We tend not to read many books twice, but we do often watch movies twice, even more than twice. Of course, length may have a lot to do with it; movies are rarely more than two hours long; books can often take days to finish. But is there something more to it, something deeper? Down here on the beaches in Florida we now recognize something the psychologists are calling “cinematherapy.

In these parts, it is always said that the most disappointing aspect of Palm Beach life is… well, the beach itself. Yes, it has sand, sea, minimal surf (and, as often as not, “dangerous marine life,” as the deep purple flags flown at the lifeguard stations indicate). But that is all. There is nothing like what you get, for example, in the north shore of the Mediterranean where, from Gibraltar in the west to Bodrum in Turkey, thousands of miles to the east, every few hundred yards you have a chic café or a ritzy restaurant, or boutiques selling everything from bikes to bikinis. No, the beaches of Palm Beach are socially inept, empty of entertainment, where the most exciting thing I have seen (twice) is a seven-foot shark caught on a line, which is a touch off putting for bathers.

America is, famously and proudly, a republic. Everyone is equal before the law. No earls or dukes or even knights of the realm. And a good thing, too. Er… not so fast. As one of the magazines devoted to Palm Beach life recently pointed out, there is one honor available to citizens of the United States that is much coveted because, as with princes, dukes and earls, the honorific comes before the recipient’s full name – and, like nobility (but not in Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor’s case), it is conferred for life. That title is “ambassador.

The old saying, “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” has received strong reinforcement during the recent unprecedented cold spell in the Palm Beaches. The rest of the world almost certainly thinks we lead a sybaritic life down here with the perennial sunshine taking the edge off the normal hardships that everyone else has to contend with. But one unusual side effect of the recent cold spell (and though it wasn’t cold by, say, Canadian standards, it was the coldest spell we’ve had here in 27 years) was the carnage it wrought on the iguana population. We have a love/hate relationship with iguanas here. When they first arrived in the early 1980s they were regarded as cute, but a decade later the mood changed.

Does every billionaire have a private jet? Are they standard toys for these very special people? Intrigued by this uniquely modern possibility, I inquired of Palm Beach International Airport (PBIA) how many private jets are registered here. The answer: 172. Some of them are no doubt owned by corporations, but that number compares well with the 67 billionaires thought to have homes in the area – perhaps some have two; that wouldn’t be unthinkable. But, of course, owning your own Gulfstream involves more than just turning up at a private airfield with no worries as to how much your bags weigh. Maybe some very rich folk don’t want the hassle of employing year-round pilots (at least two) or the bother of constant maintenance needed to keep these toys in the air.

Donald Trump continues to make news in his hometown. This is what you would expect, but it’s not all plain sailing. For a start, since he won the election, and the local police started declaring his Mar-a-Lago Club a security zone – which stretches for seven blocks, north to south, and from the Atlantic Ocean to the Intracoastal Waterway – no fewer than seven properties in the zone have changed hands. And the big question is: are these people moving in, or moving out? It is impossible to be certain, of course, but we do know that the latest property sold for $16.99 million, down from an asking price of $24 million when it first came on the market.

The two favored topics of conversation in Palm Beach are money and the place itself, so the latest survey by Henley & Partners, a specialist service which advises wealthy clients where to live, is doubly welcome. It shows that Palm Beach County is among the top five fastest-growing “wealth hubs” in the world, outpacing even Dubai and Silicon Valley. This latest report shows that Palm Beach County cities (that is, Palm Beach, the island off the mainland, and West Palm Beach, on the mainland, separated only by three drawbridges) experienced a 112 percent increase in millionaire residents between 2014 and 2024.