For years, my husband and I have fantasised about owning a little cabin in the woods somewhere near our home in Brooklyn. Priced out of beach areas like the Hamptons or the river towns of the Hudson Valley, where many affluent New Yorkers own second homes, we thought that the western portion of the Catskill Mountains, a rural enclave two hours from the city, was the spot for us. It has rolling hills, hiking trails and swimming holes, but also spotty broadband, no public transportation, a critical mass of motorcycle-riding Trump voters and the occasional meth shack, all of which means property prices a journalist and a novelist might afford.
That was pre-pandemic, of course. Over the past two years, I’ve watched the price of properties that look like meth shacks double, and then triple, as new listings sell within days, even hours, sight unseen. “Are you pre-approved?” was the first question from any estate agent, followed by “Can you pay cash?” Forget about nabbing a fixer-upper on 15 acres for $159,000, as some friends had five years ago. People were already flipping those for fat profits, or charging boutique-hotel rates to rent them out via Airbnb. Inventory is scarce and new construction in low supply and high demand, thanks to supply chain issues. Suddenly, people will pay a million dollars for a renovated barn in the former Borscht Belt.
What’s fascinating is that this isn’t happening only in areas such as New York, but around Washington, DC, Austin, Miami and even outside smaller cities such as Charlotte, North Carolina, where artsy second-home spots like Asheville have moved into Hamptons price territory. “We can’t decide whether to flip or rent,” my cousin who lives in Charlotte told me recently, noting that a chalet (and I use that word very lightly) they’d bought on a ski mountain 90 minutes from their home had doubled in price in less than a year. Looking out the window of the artisanal bakery where we sat, I noticed all the new buildings going up to house financial firms fleeing higher-tax cities for the New South. “I’d rent,” I answered (maybe to me, with a family discount?).