One of the answers I received was from Rich who pointed out the perspective is off. I agree. The camera angle could be tweaked to get a more compelling shot, but there's so much more happening, or not happening here that really gets to me.
Here's something you may not know: when people go to real estate school, they're not taught marketing. At all. A real estate course is all about law - what you're obligated to disclose, what you should avoid saying, what an easement means to a contract, a description of various water rights, etc. There's not even a hint of how to sell a house in a real estate licensing course. And most courses can be done completely online so there's no classroom interaction where that subject could be brought up. Some Brokers teach marketing, many don't. And forget about photography, I've never seen that taught in a real estate office.
When you're marketing a home, the first thing you have to do is...
determine your buyer.
At the time the photo on the left was taken, it was 1984. The Butchers lost their home to foreclosure but prior to the foreclosure, the home was being marketed for $1.25 million. This was an excellent price at that time for what the house had to offer. A buyer was looking at a full 25 acres, a 4-acre stocked pond, barn, helicopter pad, tennis courts, pool, air strip, exquisite details on the interior, high-end fixtures - the works. Unfortunately, the pool of buyers for Whirlwind was severely limited due to the location of the home and the surrounding economic area.
Though the property was living large on its notoriety and had hosted a president, foreign dignitaries, movie stars, politicians and the social elite, all of the grandeur had been funded by fraud. So finding another buyer in that economic stratosphere was going to be difficult, if not impossible.
But there was hope. After all, the 80s represented the decade of decadence. Dallas, Knots Landing, Falcon Crest, Spelling Manor - big hair, big houses, big bank accounts and the idea that if you had money you had to display every single dime of it.
So, in the 80s, Whirlwind was marketed as a private residence, a private club, even a business. Zoning was open to virtually any possibility. But no buyer was found when it was on the market and it eventually sold through a bankruptcy foreclosure for nearly half a million dollars below asking. That buyer also eventually foreclosed.
The problem that I have with the 80s photo is that it does not say, "I"m worth more than $1.25 million." See, a photo of a property has to do two things: 1) it has to make people immediately connect with the home as their solution to a better life. 2) the pictures have to be so incredible that people think, "Oh my god, I can't believe it's only $1.25 million, I have to call on this right now or I could lose it."
If your real estate photos aren't doing those two things, your house is going to sit there and the price is going to drop, and drop, and drop.
Could the perspective be different in the above photo? Absolutely. But my biggest pet peave is the lighting. That is a $30,000 chandelier. And it isn't even on. If I were the seller and a realtor tried to publish that photo to represent my house, my reaction would be, "What the f@$& is this?!"
Every light needs to be on. And I don't care if you have a $20,000 house or a 20 million dollar house. Turn on the damn lights. The chandelier, the sconces, the light in the dining room, upstairs, the living room and ballroom. Every light must be on. Light makes the room feel warmer, more inviting. And it's a $30,000 chandelier for crying out loud. Showcase it! Better yet, take this photo during the magic hour. And if you don't know what the magic hour is, hire a real estate photographer because you clearly have no idea what you're doing.
The floors are dark. You can see where an area rug once was. It looks terrible without the rug. Bring in a rug for the shoot. Any carpet dealer will be happy to lend you a rug in exchange for mentioning their company in your marketing.
That is a 20' x 47' hall. It's bigger than my first apartment in Oak Ridge. A rinky-dinky little vase of yellow roses doesn't say, "I'm rich, I can have fresh flowers any time I want." It says, "I ran to Krogers and picked up this cheap bunch of roses before I took this picture."
And what is that? A piano? A desk? A bush on the back wall? It's dark, on top of dark, next to dark.
I need to see original oil paintings in gilded frames (no portraits). I need to see an obscenely large bouquet of exotic flowers in a Baccarat crystal vase. I need to see a beautiful, Sotherbys-worthy silk rug with golds, blues and greens. I need to see a mirror to reflect the light. I need up lights. I need art light. I need task light. I need magic. I need sex appeal. I need filthy, stinking rich.
This photo disappoints.
Tomorrow I'll talk about the other crap photo. I've worked myself up into a tizzy. I'm spent.
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