Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Simon
After we cleaned up the kitchen, she grabbed her laptop, and we sat on the couch. After I located the marketing videos, she sat and watched them.
“I wouldn’t buy here either,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“I wouldn’t.” She stared at me.
“Why the hell not?”
“I don’t want to live there.” She shrugged.
I furrowed my brows at her. “You just told me it was beautiful and stunning.”
“It is,” she said.
“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”
She replayed the video. “Look at it.”
“I’ve watched those videos at least fifty times today.”
“Yeah, as the developer. Now stop looking at it like the man who built it. Become the prospective buyer. Do you have the analytics?”
“I have the reports in my briefcase.”
“Let me see them,” she said.
I stood from the couch and pulled the file from my briefcase. After handing her the file, I sat down and watched the video again.
“Your videos are two minutes long, and people stop watching after thirty seconds. Some after twenty seconds,” she said, glancing at the playing video. “There.” She pointed to the screen. “That’s your problem.”
“What is?”
“Nothing is happening, Simon. I’m bored, and so are the other viewers who attempted to view your boring content.”
“What the fuck, Bella? The video showcases the residence. It’s doing what it’s supposed to do.”
“I know what it’s supposed to be doing. I’m telling you what it’s actually doing. It’s empty. All this video does is show me an empty, non-warm, non-cozy space. How much are these apartments going for?”
“Anywhere from twelve to forty million.”
“So, your buyers are high-net-worth buyers. We’re talking executives, entrepreneurs, financiers, tech moguls, and international buyers. Correct?”
“That pretty much sums it up,” I said. “We use the same video outline for all our buildings. But for some reason, it’s not working for Montclair Tribeca.”
“These people you’re trying to sell to already have luxury homes. They’ve stayed in the best hotels, eaten at the best restaurants, traveled the world, and seen every marble countertop ever made.”
“What’s your point, Bella?”
“You’re trying to impress them with marble countertops and city views. They’re not buying marble countertops. They already have them in their current home.”
“I know that. They’re buying the residence, Bella. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“They’re buying what they think their life is going to be like in the residence. But some people have trouble envisioning that. So, you need to do it for them.”
“Keep going,” I said.
“If I’m spending twelve to forty million dollars on a home, don’t show me another picture of a kitchen. Show me why I want to wake up there. Show me sunlight coming through those windows in the morning. Show me someone barefoot making coffee while the city is waking up in front of them.”
“Interesting. Go on,” I said.
“I want to see people actually enjoying living there. Maybe a shot with a few friends on the terrace having drinks at sunset. Soft music playing in the background, while people talk and laugh. Make me wish I was there.”
She stopped the video on the kitchen shot. “Show a couple cooking dinner together.”
“People who buy our penthouses usually don’t cook,” I said.
“You can’t say that about every rich person.
You need to make them want to cook in that kitchen.
” She clicked to the residents’ lounge. “You have this incredible residents’ lounge.
Why is it empty? Show someone working there during the day, sitting on the couch with their laptop.
Then change the feel of the space at night.
Show people having cocktails before they go out.
Show me that I can have friends over without cramming everyone into my apartment.
Show a small party happening. A place where the residents can host a shower or birthday party. ”
“Can I say one thing?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“They wouldn’t be crammed in a four-thousand-square-foot apartment.”
“You’re missing the point.” She reached over and smacked my arm.
“I know. I’m giving you shit.” I grinned.
“All I keep seeing across the screen is exclusive, exceptional, refined living.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“Nothing, if you’re selling a retirement community.
You keep telling people it’s exclusive, luxurious, and exceptional.
Stop it and make them feel it. That’s what content is supposed to do, Simon.
Anyone can post a beautiful picture or video of an expensive apartment.
You need something that will make people stop and say, “God, I want that life.”
I took in every single word she spoke to me. She was right, and there was no arguing about that.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” I asked her.
“Actually, I’m not. Why?”
“I have a meeting at ten o’clock with all the departments involved in the Tribeca project. I want you in that meeting.”
“Me?” Her brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because you get it. It’s what you do, right?” My brow arched.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“I want you to explain it to my team. You got my full attention, and I know you’d have theirs.”
“I don’t know, Simon.”
“Look, you spent five minutes looking at a campaign my marketing department has spent months on and hundreds of thousands of dollars creating, and you immediately saw something none of us did. Please, Bella. I’ll pay you a consultation fee.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know that. But you would be consulting, and we pay our consultants. Please. I’m out of options here.” I begged.
“Fine. I’ll talk to your people.”
“Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me.
“I just had a thought,” I said.
“What’s your thought?”
“We’ve both had shitty days and are in bad moods. I know something we can do to get us out of our funk,” I said, smirking.
“Sex?” She stared at me.
“Is there anything better at erasing bad moods?” I smiled.
“Let’s go.” She jumped up from the couch and grabbed my hand.