TART: This is where it all begins.
Origami Diaries: Our resident alien talks
Chinese... or whatever.
Peepshow: Verbal Voyeurism.
Misanthrope: I'd like to buy the world a Coke.
Poetry: Doesn't taste just like chicken!
Icebox: Remember, you can't refreeze defrosted meat.
Random: Too much time on my hands.
Survey: Have what it takes to be a superhero?
Read what others said.
Personal Dirt: Read about our collective psychosis.
Links: My favorite sausages.
Banners: Be a little TART.
These are actual interviews conducted with actual people by an actual person, me (that would be Jennifer, for those of you who weren't paying attention). However, all names, places, events, quotes and stories have been changed to protect the innocent. Have a good idea for an interview? Or have an interview you'd like to see in print? E-mail me.
Mr. Platt’s realty office is on Herschel Avenue in La Jolla, a ritzy beach community of San Diego. Attached to the door of the office building is a golden bell which clangs loudly as I enter. I wait a moment for the secretary to get off the phone, and then she shows me into Mr. Platt’s office. He is a tall, middle-aged man who looks unusually neat and well-manicured. His desk is devoid of any kind of paperwork or computer, but there are several tape recorders. A print of a southwestern pueblo done in subdued pastels hangs behind his desk, but there are no other pictures or photos. Rusty sits quietly in the corner, and I recognize him from the company logo. Rusty is a docile german shepherd wearing a harness shirt that says, “Please don’t pet me, I am on duty. SEEING EYE DOG.” Mr. Platt is blind, which begs the question, how does he sell real estate? I’ve come here today to find out. Platt introduces himself and holds out his hand in the direction of my voice. I take it in mine and shake heartily. He beckons me to sit down.
Mr. Platt has not always been blind. He has retinitis pigmentosa, which frequently begins with what is called “night blindness”. At 13, Platt began to have trouble seeing at night and in poor light. By the time he was in college his field of vision had become very narrow and blurred. He can make out vague shapes. What he ‘sees’ are mere shadows, phantom representatives of the physical world.
His father was also a realtor, and owned this very same business. When his parents decided to sell their family home, the one he grew up in, the younger Platt was able to describe it in such stunning detail, with such eloquence, that the buyers had practically made up their minds before ever setting eyes on the house. This is how he has sold house after lavishly expensive house since. He interviews sellers at length, and spends a substantial amount of time in each house, walking its floors, feeling the walls, the carpet, breathing it in. He learns its full history, from groundbreaking to the number of cocktail parties thrown each year by the most recent owners. He maps out schematics and floor plans in his mind, using nimble fingers that explore every inch of space.
He jokes about his blindness with potential buyers. “I haven’t seen the house yet but Rusty has, and he gives it four woofs.” It is meant to put buyers at ease. “Rusty gives this one two paws up.” Mr. Platt’s business is doing very well and is growing through word of mouth. People trust his instincts on a living space, on the evaluations of aspects unseen. It seems that not only have his other senses become sharpened since his blindness, but that he has also developed a sort of sixth sense, a heightened awareness. He is known in some circles as the “new age realtor,” focusing on the energy, history, structural integrity, and feeling of warmth in a house.
He even has a burgeoning side business now, as a feng shui consultant. Feng shui is the ancient Chinese art of placement. Platt is of European descent, and it occurs to me that I have missed out on a really good opportunity to exploit my culture, since someone else ended up doing it anyway. Platt evaluates the chi of a home and makes suggestions regarding placement of furniture, paintings, plants, crystals, candles, windchimes, etc., and even picks out color schemes. He is shocked by people who use "rattan" and "wicker" interchangeably. He claims to remember colors, and differentiates deftly between cantaloupe and peach. “Just don’t call me a glorified interior decorator,” he says. “Feng shui is so much more than that.” The theory behind feng shui is to create balance and harmony in the home by allowing the chi, or energy, of a space to flow unobstructedly. This in turn creates balance and harmony for those dwelling in this energy. Platt tells me that until recently, feng shui has been a closely guarded secret in China, reserved for emperors, and later the very rich and powerful. It is apparently still reserved for this same class of people in America. Mr. Platt charges up to $5,000 per consultation, but has a reputation in this town as being one of the best. Rusty, apparently, does not help with the feng shui. Platt tells me that I should think about procuring his services for my own home. He claims that unblocking the chi in my home could produce more clarity and creativity in my writing. As he has read several of my articles, I am unsure how to take this. I politely decline; the words “placebo effect,” “psychosomatic,” and “power of suggestion” are already forming in my mind.
Copyright 7/99 Jennifer Chung.
All rights reserved.
Now light two candles,
harness your chi,
and conquer the world.
