Candy at Last (29 page)

“What were you thinking?” he’d asked.

As I walked through the empty house and said goodbye to the bare walls and the empty shelves, it was very intense. I saw the faint imprint of where the pool table once stood, and in my mind’s eye, I saw Aaron and a twelve-year-old Randy shooting pool. I pictured Aaron with his ever-present pipe, and I could just about smell his tobacco. I thought of Tori coming over with my grandson Liam and Liam saying the screening room was his favorite room. That told me he was indeed Aaron Spelling’s grandson. I ran my fingertips over the floral pattern I had designed for the bedroom so long ago that it seemed like a dream at this point.

What had been our home was suddenly a ghost town. My adrenaline had finally leveled off as I prepared to shut out the lights and pull the door closed.
As I drove my car through the gates one last time, I was letting go of an entire lifetime.

Selling Spelling Manor
drew an audience of more than 4.2 million people for HGTV. The special encore night also garnered ratings that placed HGTV in third place for the night. I was truly touched that so many people tuned in. The success was bittersweet, but I walked away with all of my memories knowing that home isn’t only where you start off, it’s where you choose to go.

30

The Decorator

I always thought it would be fun to do an updated version of Aaron’s 1965 pilot of
The Decorator
. The show was a comedy that starred Bette Davis as an elegant and refined Santa Monica decorator living beyond her means. Her character, Miss Lizzy, left threatening notes for anyone who dared wake her before noon and had a stack of “37,000 unpaid bills” that included a delinquent charge for a “beaded evening gown from Saks Fifth Avenue.”

Miss Lizzy’s assistant, played by the hilarious Mary Wickes, forces her to join the world of the working stiffs. Despite reiterating her belief that breakfast was “for ditch diggers and drum majorettes,” Miss Lizzy reluctantly agrees. After that, she goes to stay with different clients every week and decorates their homes based on what she learns about them. I think Aaron was ahead of his time on this one, and his scripted show would have made a wonderful reality television series.

I watched a few minutes of the first episode on YouTube the other day. I really love the innocence of the show. I’d forgotten my favorite line, which
Miss Lizzy says to a child of all people, “Don’t be absurd! Everybody needs a decorator.”

It really is true, everybody does need a decorator. Interior design isn’t always about putting up wallpaper in the dining room or buying an entire room of new furniture. Sometimes it’s as simple as recognizing what your needs are. I worked as a decorator for a couple of years after art school for a contract firm. I decorated condos on Fountain Avenue in West Hollywood and model units over on King’s Road. We didn’t have generous budgets, which taught me to be very clever in my work. To this day, I remember making a painting to hang on a wall, and it was still wet when I hung it the next morning.

During my last handful of years at The Manor, I updated some of the rooms that needed restoring. It wasn’t for me, and it wasn’t necessarily fun. It was upkeep, plain and simple. It made me think of a time when Aaron was still healthy and a Saudi prince had made an unsolicited offer on The Manor. It was a very serious offer, and I knew with that money I could build another manor for us somewhere else in the city and still have money left over. Aaron wasn’t remotely interested, so the Saudi prince sweetened the offer and threw in a Gulfstream jet. I’ll never forget Aaron’s reaction.

“What would I do with that?”

I never gave much thought to where I would move after The Manor. I’d never pictured myself living anywhere beyond The Spelling Manor. When I finally put The Manor on the market, I knew that in the next chapter of my life, I wanted a completely different experience, so I was intrigued when my friend Alicia told me about The Century.

In their story, “Putting Out The Ritz: When Hotels Go Condo,” CNNMoney. com highlighted what they called “a spate of grand old inns being converted to condo residences.” It was happening in cities like New York, Chicago, and now Los Angeles, where hotels “such as the St. Regis in Los Angeles’s Century City neighborhood, have announced condo conversions.”

The
Los Angeles Times
entered the conversation when they ran a piece entitled “Condo Tower Will Replace St. Regis Hotel.” In the article, David
Wine, Vice Chairman of Related, the developer who purchased the St. Regis, said, “‘What we have tried to do is set a new standard for a building that will incorporate the best aspects of a five-star hotel, estate and condominium’ in one site.”

I was definitely intrigued. The offices for The Century residences were being marketed as estate living in a condominium. The hotel building had been demolished, but the developer had offices close to the property on Century Park East. I had my attorney contact them without disclosing my identity because usually when I call myself, the price of everything is always significantly higher.

My attorney went to their offices and saw the little model of the building and also the room where the various finishes they had were on display. The next step was to have Related’s architect draw up some plans based on my wish list. My priorities included a gift-wrapping room, a pool, a room for my silver, and a china room. I also had this romantic notion of bringing my roses from my rose garden at The Manor with me.

To my surprise, Related didn’t bat an eye at my request for a pool or a rose garden. The building was still under construction, so it was very desirable for them to get buyers involved at the early stages. It was even better for them to get high-profile buyers who would garner media attention and help generate more sales.

The Century was a high-rise slated to be forty-two floors high, making it the twenty-second tallest building in Los Angeles. The idea of being up in the sky, floating above the city lights, was magical. Buying the condo was the biggest leap I had taken in a long time. Through my attorney I negotiated a sale price of $47 million for the penthouse floor and the floor beneath it. Not surprisingly, my acquisition of the top two floors made headlines when the
Los Angeles Times
reported:

“The top two floors of a Century City residential tower still under construction have been sold for a record $47 million to Candy Spelling, the widow of TV mogul Aaron Spelling. A $47-million price tag may seem like an enormous sum, but this is all about downshifting in the fast lane.”

After we closed the deal, an interior architect from Robert A. M. Stern Architects tried his hand at designing my condominium. I already knew from my experience building The Manor that architects don’t think functionally, so it was no surprise to me when I didn’t like the ideas presented. Meanwhile, the housing market had crashed and the country was in a recession, so I had my attorneys approach Related about an adjustment on my purchase price. I was actually ready to walk especially since I hadn’t sold The Manor yet. I wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere. I was pleased when Related agreed to our terms.

The
Los Angeles Times
ran with the story “Candy Spelling Gets $12-Million Price Break on New Penthouse.” In it they reported,

“‘Prices were reduced for Spelling and other buyers who made early commitments to the project,’ said Susan de Franca, Related’s president of sales.… As the housing market fell apart, some local real estate observers speculated that Spelling would abandon The Century. ‘The rumors have been quelled,’ De Franca said. “We are really pleased.’”

After all the documents had been signed and moneys transferred, I went to visit my white box. That’s all it was at that point. Just a massive white box. It was also a second opportunity to build myself a completely custom home. At that point, I decided I wouldn’t need an architect anymore. He was overthinking everything and making it too complicated. He also didn’t know me, so his designs didn’t reflect my needs. I knew enough about blueprints and line drawings that I felt comfortable taking it from there on my own.

I did the same thing at The Manor. In that case, I ended up hiring a jewelry designer from Utah who was also a draftsman. His friend designed the kitchen and ended up staying on for a couple of years as my house manager.

Maybe like the Miss Lizzy character from
The Decorator,
I should have had the architect come stay with me for a week; then he would have understood my needs. I know a lot of people still don’t understand my passion for gift-wrapping, but I find it very relaxing and creative. Sometimes I’ll just go up there to see what kind of decorative bonkers I have in my inventory. Other times, I’ll whip up some bows on my bow-making machine.

Another priority for me was having a little beauty room for myself. At The Manor, we had a barbershop for Aaron. I always felt like that was “his” part of the house. Well, now I wanted a “hers” version, complete with hair-washing sink, makeup counter, and salon chair where I could get dolled up for weddings, evenings out, or media appearances.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t trying to please anybody. I wasn’t anybody’s daughter, wife, or mother. I had raised my children and been the caretaker to my sick husband, so I felt that I deserved to indulge myself. Aaron would have loved all the engineering I had in the works. Televisions hidden behind moving bookcases and the flat-screen television that comes out from under the bed at the push of a button. But there is no way I would have been able to design a pink master bedroom.

While I moved into my temporary residence in Westwood, I assembled my creative team that included my longtime decorator and friend, Robert Dally. I met Robert ages ago when his partner, Peter Shorr, decorated our house on North Mapleton. I always say Robert and I are twins separated at birth. We finish each other’s sentences like a married couple, and we speak the same language when it comes to design. Even though we want to kill each other sometimes, we really do have this creative shorthand that enables us to work well together.

Building The Century was very different from building The Manor. It was twenty-one years later and I was a completely different person. This time around, I had so much more experience, information, and resources, so I was able to avoid all of the major mistakes I made when I was building The Manor. Even though the space I was working with at The Century was much smaller than The Manor, I wanted to implement in a “Wow Factor.” This I knew would be derived from the details. It would really boil down to finding different materials and creating unique design elements.

They say no home is complete without a hearth, so one of things I had done was have our living room fireplace at The Manor molded so we could duplicate it in the living room of The Century. The artisan who did my
fireplaces came all the way from France. He was recommended to me by someone who had done my floors, and then I found out he had done the garden sculptures at the Fleur de Lys estate, so I instinctively knew he was right for the job.

I also wanted to replicate that feeling of grandness created by the
Gone with the Wind
double staircase we had at The Manor. I had actually designed the motif of that staircase and wanted to replicate it in my new home. The problem I needed to solve here was that the condo has floor-to-ceiling windows all around, so I needed a staircase that wouldn’t disrupt the view. The solution for this was a floating spiral staircase. I had taken pictures of the double staircase from The Manor and sent them to the manufacturer in Texas.

The staircase was made of steel in Texas and shipped to a warehouse in the San Fernando Valley, a suburban area just outside of Los Angeles. It was then very carefully cut into four pieces so that we would be able to get it up the elevator to the 41st floor. Once it was up there, it was welded together and then installed.

Robert and I took several trips to look for materials and fixtures. I couldn’t have worked with any other decorator. Most decorators will bring you four or five samples, but Robert knows I want to see everything. I am always reminded of when I was throwing Tori a birthday party and we were having tablecloths made. I found this darling Raggedy Ann and Andy fabric at Beverly Hills Silks and Woolens. I knew it was what I wanted, but instead of buying it, I spent the rest of the day looking for options and exhausting all other possibilities.

Things haven’t changed a bit. If Robert and I are in a showroom looking at fabrics, I go through the wings and look at every single one. There are times when I am being too particular, and Robert doesn’t want to deal with me.

“You don’t have to be so matchy-matchy.”

Showrooms weren’t the only place I went for materials. I visited a number of marble quarries and also spent quite a bit of time at The Home Depot. It’s always funny to see people’s reactions to me at places like that. I think people
are always surprised to see me out there riding around in a golf cart, wearing a hard hat. I enjoyed every minute of it.

It was also a wonderful experience to meet so many interesting and creative people. I hired painters and glassblowers and ordered all of my custom-painted switchplates from The Switchplate Lady. I bought all my bronze that I used on my gate and the columns in the pool from a decorative metal arts studio in New Jersey called Firedance Studios. Some of these businesses were really struggling and were thrilled to have the business. It reminded me of the McNaughten Estate in Holmby Hills that later became the Bing Crosby Estate. McNaughten built his mansion in 1933 when the country was in a depression. He endured quite a bit of scrutiny, but other people saw that his construction was creating jobs and stimulating the local economy, and these voices eventually drowned out the critical ones.

The proprietor of Firedance Studios told me himself that he was about to close his doors until I turned up. The Switchplate Lady’s business has also grown exponentially after my purchases. The glassblower I used to create the columns for my pool room has also gotten quite a bit of attention. I met her in a showroom at the Pacific Design Center in West Hollywood. It’s not that easy to find someone in Los Angeles with a kiln big enough to fire columns that size. The columns she made are just beautiful and are the perfect complement to the etched glass. The whole look reminds me of Lalique.