Who wants to be a millionaire?

Lusting after luxury, but lacking the lolly? Adrian Holliday investigates the fractional ownership schemes and upscale concierge services that will help you buy a slice of the high life

It’s little use having a taste for private jets and five-star hotels in the Bahamas if you can’t afford to enjoy them. You’ve either got the money to have a ball—and let everyone know it—or you haven’t. That’s the problem with conspicuous consumption. Or is it?
These days there is a shortcut to the A-list lifestyle: fractional ownership. It’s really a form of timeshare, glossily rebranded for the 21st century with absolutely no mention of Tenerife or Judith Chalmers. From Ferraris to private jets to yachts, the concept is increasingly accessible for the well-heeled. Well-heeled, perhaps, but not necessarily laden with cash. You might have the Primrose Hill pad and a place in France but you don’t yet have the yacht or Ferrari. Nevertheless, for one or two charmed weeks a year—more if you can afford it—you can enjoy the thrill of possession.

H20 is a company that sells part-ownership shares of
US-built luxury floating penthouses in Salcombe, Devon, and the US. Each boat is 60ft long with enough room for four double bedrooms, a home theatre and a six-person hot tub. Shares start at £24,000 for a 30-year term allowing the “owner” to take multiple breaks a year at discounted weekly rates, which range from £479 in low season up to £1,039 in August. “If owners don’t choose to take their annual accommodation we will let the boat on their behalf and split the rent 50-50,” says director John Cooper. Salcombe Bay may be utterly lovely, especially on a summer evening, but sadly you won’t be cruising the shoreline as Cooper’s huge boats are permanently moored—though a small launch is provided if you want to potter around the bay.

The new Whistlejacket Club, on the other hand, allows you to take to the open sea in its 230ft private superyacht. When it’s ready to sail at the end of 2007, destinations will include the Mediterranean, Libya and the Baltic. But be warned, ownership comes at a cost. The joining fee for 10 nights a year for two people is a truly intimidating £160,000, and the annual subscription is £9,000. Co-founder Michael Fenton says the £160,000 is a returnable deposit, provided the venture’s a success.

Membership depends on a face-to-face interview, says Fenton “to ensure there will be social chemistry with existing members”. Clients, who are most likely to come from the arts and entrepreneurial worlds, will be waited on by 24 staff, including nutritionists, masseurs and cocktail “mixologists”.

If you’d prefer to let friends and neighbours appreciate your newly acquired millionaire lifestyle at closer quarters, drive a new Lamborghini or Ferrari home for the weekend. Ecurie25 is a performance car club based in London’s Old Street aimed squarely at City chaps wanting fast metal without the ruinous running costs. Stumping up £8,200 (including a one-off £750 joining fee) will buy you 30 to 40 driving days a year. No insurance or depreciation worries—just buy the petrol and enjoy the attention. Damon Hill’s similar P1 club, based in Leatherhead, Surrey, is about to launch a second branch in the UK, this time in Cheshire, so there is obviously nationwide demand. But do such clubs offer real value for money? That’s a tricky one. Comparing celebrity lifestyle options is not as simple as comparing supermarket digestives. But according to Phil McNamara of Car Magazine: “For a bloke who doesn’t want to lose all that depreciation on a Lamborghini Gallardo but still wants his supercar kicks, it’s a good option.”

If you want to travel even faster, try your own private jet. NetJets offers shared jet ownership, with stars such as Jennifer Lopez and Pete Sampras among its regular users. A NetJets contract doesn’t come cheap, but then it’s a quality service designed for convenience. And with many luxury extras, it’s a question of getting what you pay for.
For aspiring millionaires with less disposable income, a savvier move could be to charter your own jet on an ad hoc basis. International Air Charter (IAC), based in Faversham, Kent, claims planes are usually available at two hours’ notice. “Netjets doesn’t offer you anything ad hoc charter can’t,” says CEO Hugh Courtenay. “Quite the opposite, actually, as with ad hoc charter there is much more flexibility, without commitment or capital expenditure.” A trip to Nice for a party of six, departing on Friday night from Stansted and returning on Sunday night in a Citation II executive jet, costs £8,395 all in and IAC offers flashy Learjets, too. Pricier than EasyJet admittedly, but a great deal more exclusive and convivial.

Buckets of kudos, of course, also attach to those with a chic London address. Cheval Group operates luxury, serviced apartments in South Kensington and the City, with prices starting at a not-too-exorbitant £725 a week. Would-be millionaires increasingly hire such pads for short-term stays says group director George Westwell. But watch out for the decor: some clients are still partial to the ambassadorial ruched drapes and department-store chandeliers. Thankfully, modern interiors are also offered and all apartments have built-in Bose hi-fi and wi-fi broadband. “A lot of tenants will treat it as their home and bring in personal pictures to hang on the walls; we are always happy to work with a client to personalise the treatment,” says Westwell.
Hiring Ferraris, private jets and City pads is obviously enormous fun but ultimately, for fractional pretenders, it’s style without staying power. Fortunately, thanks to the internet, information—or “intelligence” as it’s increasingly branded—is now a formidable asset in its own right.
Amanda Zuydervelt is the founder of Stylebible.com, a hybrid concierge service and guidebook, spanning London, New York, Amsterdam and LA. Many of her 1,500-strong membership are affluent, time-poor City executives. They pay £50 a year for Web intelligence on the hottest places to eat, designer sample sales and invitations to launches and premieres. “Exclusive, expensive services are not the criteria for recommendation,” says Zuydervelt. “For example, we’ve mentioned a coffee shop on London’s Golborne Road that sells the most delicious custard cakes for 75p.”

Likewise Quintessentially, an upscale concierge operation whose members include royalty and celebrities such as Madonna, claims its clients get access to events they’d never find out about by reading Time Out or calling Ticketmaster. “We put on our own gala evenings and events,” says UK managing director Frank Rejwan. “Recently we had a karaoke evening with the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest including Christian Slater. General membership for Quintessentially starts at £750 a year. It includes 24-hour telephone access to the members’ assistance team—Quintessentially’s jolly posh call centre providing information on everything from hotels to spas to film premiere parties.

So there you have it. Fractional fun—from hot tubs and yachts to fast cars and fancy addresses—is available for all wannabe A-listers. You may never be a real celebrity, but you can live the celebrity lifestyle—even if it’s for just a fantasy fortnight each year.

Share value

Don’t expect financial gains, it’s a lifestyle investment

Fractional ownership is increasingly marketed as an “investment”. But it’s an investment that is often difficult to sell on, particularly if it’s property-based. Where genuine property investments are easy to sell or rent out, with many fractional ownership schemes it’s harder. As one national newspaper property editor puts it, “They’re awful investments and they’re over-priced.”

Sherman Potvin, author of the Luxury Fractional Guide, also warns would-be buyers: “In the past, some people did purchase fractions of holiday homes as an ‘investment’, but it’s about a lifestyle investment, not an investment in the sense of a bond or stock.” Jodi Newton, a lawyer from Bolt Burdon Kemp, says schemes may be affected by previous timeshare scandals: “Go in with your eyes open. There may be something to be said for a caravan in Rhyl, after all.”