YOUR MAMAS NOTES: First, frosty haired Backstreet Boy Nick Carter listed his 5 bedroom and 5.5 pooper Parkland, FL mcmansion in the summer of 2008 with an asking price of $1,500,000. Lusty Mister Carter either had a real estate change of heart of a spate of bad real estate luck–not unusual for someone in suburban Flah–reeduh–because records reveal that Mister Carter’s property never sold and listing information shows it’s now for lease at $4,500 per month.
Then came Kevin Richardson who sold his 4 bedroom and 4.5 pooper property above Los Angeles’ legendary Sunset Strip in April of 2009 for $4,078,000, The children might like to know that the selling price was slightly higher than the $3,977,000 asking price. Your Mama isn’t sure to where Mister Richardson and his family decamped but according to several sources on the interweb, they own a rural spread with a large house just outside of Lexington, KY.
The next Backstreet Boy to hoist his house on to the market is Howie Dorough, otherwise known as Howie D. Mister D. first listed his Sunset Strip area property in November of 2009 with an asking price of $2,750,000. The asking price was karate chopped to it’s current number of $2,475,000 in early February of 2010.
Although Mister D. failed to make the cut for the casting of Menudo, he soon found fame and fortune working his falsetto as one of the Backstreet Boys, that quintet of baby-faced young men who made million upon millions of teen and tween boys and gurls around the world pee their pants with excitement and scream bloody murder. The Backstreet Boys–or any other boy band for that matter–were never Your Mama’s musical cup of tea so we could have been pushed over with a feather tickler upon learning that the Backstreet Boys were still touring as recently as 2009. We had no idea that young boys and gurls still went weak in the knees over a quintet of squeaky clean boy-men who spin, slide and glide around the stage in unison while singing sappy songs about heart aches and breaks. We thought the youngin’s all prefer the musical stylings of Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers and that Lady Gaga gal nowadays.
In addition to singing like a castrato in the still together Backstreet Boys–which really ought to be called the Backstreet Men now since most of these guys are married and making babies–Mister D. has occasionally appeared on the boob toob (Dora the Explorer, Roswell and Sabrina the Teenage Witch) and mentors and manages a couple of balladeers and songstresses Your Mama has never heard of including some gurl group with the preposterously silly name of No More Drama. Anyoo, Mister and Missus D. made a baby in the spring of 2009, and like Your Mama has said before–yesterday actually–on of the many reasons rich and/or famous folks think they need a new home is the birth of a baby: new baby, new house.
Property records show that Mister D. snatched up his house in May of 2005 for $1,530,000. The taxman shows the house was built in 1981 and measures 2,619 square feet with 3 bedrooms and 3 poopers. Listing information, on the other hand, shows a square footage of 2,910 and a bedroom and pooper count of 4 and 3.5.
The bizarrely configured .62 acre parcel is dee–lishusly sited up a private road, down a gated (and we’re pretty sure, shared) driveway and behind two houses on a perfectly private prow-like promontory that gives the house insane 300-degree views from downtown Los Angeles to–on a clear day–the Pacific Ocean. At night, chickens, there is nothing but a twinkling carpet of city lights to be seen out of the large windows and sliding glass doors that wrap around the living areas. Say what y’all will about the fugliness of Los Angeles–and we’re sure y’all will because you always do–but there are few (quasi)urban places where a person can own a house with a view like this.
The busted up and broken down black top driveway is a pity, the front facade of the house with its stacked stone accents isn’t much to behold or write home about and it seems the front door is all but hidden. Difficult to find front doors ensure boozy guest will be tramping through the landscaping looking for a way into the house. In all truthfulness, none of that matters much once we get inside the house because Mister D.’s property ain’t really about nuthin‘ but the view, children.
The main living space is an open plan affair with the living room one side, the dining room on the other. The wood vaulted ceiling allows for a kind of airiness in what appears to be a fairly modestly sized space and windows and sliding glass doors wrap around the room on three sides. The back wall of the living room area has a gigantic stacked stone wall with a fireplace and behind and open to the dining room, the not do big but very bright and well equipped kitchen that has simple flat fronted cabinetry that might be mahogany or maybe cherry or maybe just stained to look like cherry or mahogany, and a full suite of Viking brand appliances including a built in microwave and a 6-burner plus a griddle range the size of a small SUV.
The living/dining room, wrapped in sliding glass doors, gives way to a triangular shaped deck that practically hovers over Los Angeles. Your Mama can imagine that with a large market umbrella to escape the blistering southern California sunshine that this deck would be the most marvelous place to whittle away the day curled up on a comfy chaise lounge with the latest New Yorker, a stack of gossip glossies and a bottomless pitcher of gin & tonics.
Two of the 4 bedrooms are, according to listing information, masters suites each with private terliting facilities and walk-in closets. The main master, the one where Mister and Missus D. do what married people do–or do not do–in their bedrooms, has a vaulted wood ceiling, a massive stacked stone fireplace, a wall of floor to ceiling sliders that open to a narrow balcony with the sort of view most Angelenos can only dream of waking to. The master pooper, all beige travertine, beige paint and itty-bitty tiles in various shades of beige, includes a double vanity with cabinetry that matches that in the kitchen and may or may not be mahogany (or maybe cherry), a free standing soaking tub and a party-sized shower with a giant window for taking in the view while shampooing, rinsing and repeating.
One of the other bedrooms appears to have been put into use as an office/music studio for Mister D. where a couple of keyboards sit atop built in blond wood cabinetry that might be made of maple. Like most of the other rooms in Mister D.’s dwelling, the office/music studio opens to a terrace with big views through a couple of large sliding glass doors.
A long, long, long flight of stairs off the deck at the back of the house leads to a large terrace that hugs the curve of the hillside. The gently arcing terrace, a lovely spot for a sun downer cocktail party, has an above ground spa, built in bar of stacked stone, and a built in fire pit. All of this is quite nice and the view from the lower terrace is nothing if not soo–blime. However, Your Mama is concerned about the number of stairs required to access this terrace. Not only are we worried about the well-being of those with unhealthy hearts we are also quite concerned about the sanitary issues. Let’s be honest chickens, what drunk dude or boozed up bimbo is going to climb all 479,000 of those steps when nature calls? Not a one of them. That means of course that unless Mister D. has put a Port-a-Potty down there people are well, we know what they’re doing, right? They’re squatting in the scrub that surrounds the terrace. Your Mama recommends the new owners install a damn funicular.
Your Mama really hasn’t any idea where Mister and Missus D. plan to live next. Given their new roles as new parents, we can certainly imagine and understand that they might prefer a property not so conducive to a toddler wandering off the deck and tumbling down the hillside.
We’re not sure where the other Backstreet Boys actually live, but property records indicate that A.J. Mclean owns a fairly modest home in the Los Feliz area of Los Angeles and Brian Littrell has an large estate in Alpharetta, GA with a 6,020 square foot mansion. As far as Your Mama knows, neither Mister McLean or Mister Littrells‘ homes are for sale.
photos: Everett Fenton Gidley