Robyn's HOOD
April 24, 2008
Robyn Doolittle
STAFF REPORTER
It had me at the hardwood floors, granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
I envisioned myself relaxing, suds to my chin in the claw-footed soaker tub, or lounging in front of a roaring blaze in the stone fireplace, sipping on chardonnay from a stemless wine glass.
This red brick, Cabbagetown gem was my dream home and I had to have it. I didn't know how, but I'd find a way.
"How much?" I asked, trying to sound as mature and rich as a 23-year-old can.
"It's $799,500," the agent replied flatly, turning his attention to the real potential buyers.
It was my first lesson in real estate. Just because there's a crack den on the street, doesn't mean it's going to be cheap.
"It's $800,000," I said quietly to my boyfriend as we retreated. "How can any normal person ever afford that?"
Another man viewing the home stopped me as I walked through the soaring double front doors.
"Buy a condo. Get in the game. Sell it in a few years. That's how you afford it," he said.
I said thanks, but snickered. I hate condos.
I walked out of that open house depressed and with a ton of bricks in my heart. I won't own property until I'm 40, I thought.
This was last summer. Little did I know that nearly one year later, I'd be unpacking countless boxes in my first home – a condo.
So how is it that a young 20-something reporter, moving from contract to contract, has enough cash to afford a down payment?
Well, about a week before visiting my first open house – the Cabbagetown gem – a letter arrived in the mail; rather a Xerox of a handwritten will.
My uncle had passed away the year before. The bequest wasn't much; about enough to buy a small car, but it was a complete surprise.
Coupled with some savings I'd put away, I found myself sitting on a tidy little sum of cash.
Invest it, I thought. So I did and for several months I watched the numbers go up and fall, go up and fall, go up, and then plummet.
An American recession is coming, the talking heads screamed. The subprime mortgage crisis will kill us all!
I invested as conservatively as possible, but I had still lost nearly a grand.
This is ridiculous, I thought. If I'm going to watch all my money go down the toilet anyway, I may as well take my chances in the real estate market.
A good chunk of my rent-happy friends thought I'd lost my mind. The bubble is going to burst, they warned. The condo boom is over, they said.
Perhaps it's naive, but I've never bought this argument. I planned on buying smart: downtown, must have two bedrooms so I can rent if I get in financial trouble, and near a university.
I went to Ryerson University and still live in the area. I know that in the next few years the school plans on adding about 5,000 spots and there's little, if any, room to build new residences. No matter what, I figured, if I buy a place within walking distance to Ryerson I can rent it to students.
The bubble may burst and maybe it has. But I'm not convinced that it applies to downtown property. More importantly, I don't want to hold back and wait for life to start because some financial analyst thinks that maybe, the Toronto housing market might slow down sometime in the next few years.
I thought about it over the winter holidays, talked it over with my parents – who, surprisingly, were completely in favour of the decision – and by Jan. 1 2008, I'd made my No. 1 New Year's resolution to start climbing the real estate ladder.
I didn't know how much I could afford. Maybe $350,000? Nope.
I phoned my bank and was pre-approved for a $250,000 mortgage. So then the hunt began.
Except I didn't know where to look. I pulled a stack of Toronto Stars out of my recycling bin and flipped through the classified section. Most were way out of my price range. I turned to the Net. I had never heard of MLS.
I Googled "Houses for Sale and Toronto'' and started scrolling through endless pages.
Then I clicked on a real estate agent's posting, which seemed to read my mind.
"Stop wasting your time looking through hundreds of useless ads. Why not have a real estate professional (look) for you," wrote Re/Max agent Stephanie Nause. "I'm here to make things as easy as possible. This is a free service to buyers as the seller takes care of the commission."
I fired off a reply and by day's end, we'd set up a meeting. She asked me a score of questions: When do you want to move in? Have I been pre-approved for a mortgage? How many bedrooms? Parking? Pets? Specific locations?
The next night I got my first Prospect Matches email from Stephanie.
It was the first listing she sent me and I knew right away it was the one. A 650-square-foot, stacked townhouse, just one street east of my current home. It was listed at $255,000.
It was about 11 p.m. on a Friday, but I phoned her cell.
"Stephanie. This is it. This is the one. I don't need to see anything else. I want it."
There was one problem. The seller wasn't accepting offers until Sunday.
"And whenever they hold off offers, it means there's probably going to be multiple offers. This is underpriced. It means they want to get lots of people's attention," she said. "Multiple offers can be stressful, especially for a first-time buyer. Don't worry though, we'll do it together.
"First things first, we need to see the place. I'll get you an appointment for tomorrow morning."
UPCOMING: The saying goes: No one gets the first place they make an offer on. Perhaps I'll get lucky?
Read as I navigate a new agent, multiple offers and faux brick wallpaper – next week.
Toronto Star