Dalston Hall:
This, technically speaking, is my ancestral home and a point of vague heartbreak for me. My mum's family are Dalstons. Dalston Hall (conveniently located in the town of...Dalston. I don't know if we're named after the town, or just really egotistical. Probably the latter.) But we don't own it anymore, and since then it's become a luxury hotel and a...caravan park? Ok, obviously I am in no position to be snobby, because I could never, ever buy this place. However, it just makes me a little sad that, you know, the sprawling grounds of my ancestor's home now backs onto...a trailer park. And the antiques are fake! Made in China! I know this isn't that big a deal. These are minor offenses, in the grand scheme of things. Really, this is more about a general discomfort with leaving my family's history to a group of strangers. Oh my god, did I mention that in the tower room - also the honeymoon suite - they're planning to put mirrors on the ceiling? Jesus. There's so much potential there, but it would require a) a crap ton of money, and b) a willingness to live in the most haunted house in Britain. Not that I can blame my ancestors for haunting the place. I mean, mirrored ceilings? I would haunt the crap out of the people who did that to my house.
When we went to visit, when I was on the way to college, the owners actually made us sit in on a ghost tour. Because, apparently, having original family members would persuade the ghosts to come out and frolic. It didn't, for the record. No frolicking with ghosts. Probably because my mother was SUPER not into it. I have never seen her so uncomfortable/whiny/rude in my life. But that's kind of to be expected, since she is really into practical things. Anyway, if I had all kinds of money, I would love to buy Dalston hall and wrap my arms around it and make everything okay again. Except, I am HUGE wuss. So it's not really a practical purchase, because I would probably get scared. (Rachel and Lauren can attest to my overwhelming cowardice.) So, in case I need a backup residence, I would pick...
A windmill! Oh come on, everyone already knew I'd be the weirdest rich person ever, given half the chance. Seriously though, the windmill/house from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? AWESOME! I've always been into really unique/slightly quirky buildings being fashioned into homes. As a special bonus, I think the churning of the mill would be like having a giant fan going all the time, which could be soothing. I mean, it could also be really annoying, but if it is, I could always move to a lighthouse, or an abandoned fire department or factory or something.
Ok, enough real estate. What else could I buy?
Maybe...this!
I fully aspire to one day be cool enough to ride around on a Vespa.Anyway...I'd probably devote the rest of my money to emulating Peggy Guggenheim. What a pimp! I totally forgot about her, but I would like to formally, and retroactively, invite her to my dinner party. She could be in charge of the drinks - Bellinis, obviously. Aside from the fact she named her children the weirdest things ever - Sinbad and Pegeen - she was really committed to art, and threw fabulous parties with all the best and most interesting people. I myself don't actually know anything about art, but I really admire the way she decided to be the protector of her generation's artists (she single-handedly kept Jackson Pollock alive, for example) and then followed through. I suppose you can have that kind of commitment when you're obscenely wealthy. But let us take some executive notice of the fact that good old Peg used her money extremely well. Aside from assembling one of the most important art collections ever, she also bought a gondola (don't worry, she lived in Venice. It's totally rational). She and her friends would get deliciously intoxicated on prosecco and take the gondola out on the Grand Canal. If that alone doesn't justify this woman as the premier role model of the 20th century, I don't know what does.
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