“Oh, if only the view was better…”
Unlike Mr Pigasse, who gets to live a modern day French Loiux XIV we’ve spent the better part of our summer holed up in our tabloid gutter crack den living vicariously through our favorite socialites and celebs. That said, today we finally get a sneak peak at the finer sensibilities of one of Frances’ favorite sons…
NY Post: Top Lazard banker Matthieu Pigasse is being chased for $165,000 after a broker claimed he rented a Hamptons beachfront mansion — but left after two days because he said he “didn’t like the view.”
Matthieu we have to confess we don’t like the view of weathered crack hos across the street peddling their craft but somehow we tolerate it for now. But then again, I’m not shelling out $165 K to have my sensibilities offended…
Paris-based Pigasse, the co-CEO of Lazard in France who recently bought left-leaning newspaper Le Monde, arrived at 2170 Meadow Lane in Southampton in early August. He flew in from France having paid no deposit, but a broker agreed to let him into the $30 million Norman Jaffe-designed, five-bedroom house.
A cursory look at our hovel will reveal one and half bedrooms, a toilet that only works when yanked with loving thrusts and of course the obscure rantings of Maria the resident ho who insists one day ‘I ought to hang out with her…”
Broker Jack Prizzi, who rented Pigasse the house and met him on arrival, told us: “It was my mistake letting them in with no deposit or signed contract, but they flew in at night. He had eight people with him including a 16-month-old baby. By 3 p.m. the next day, all hell broke loose because the money still hadn’t arrived. They said they didn’t like the house because it didn’t look like the pictures — it looks exactly like the pictures.”
Jack, I have a brilliant idea, why don’t we rent out my little hovel to one of your other French expats with the understanding that this will be an action packed adventure that comes with a variety of amenities befitting a real live ghetto dwelling. Surely some of your clients must be frothing at the mouth at the chance to live a vicarious existence of a starving publisher. Perhaps if we placed a phone call to Mr Pigasse he might mull it over, but this time we’ll be sure to collect the $138 deposit.
