SELLER: Steven Cojocaru
LOCATION: 8222 Hollywood Boulevard
SIZE: 3,692 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Prime Sunset Strip 1920s Spanish of Old Hollywood gone by. Grand LR with soarting rough-honed beamed ceilings, French drs lead to arched terrace overlooking the entire city. This loggia is the outdoor living space dreams were made of. Separate DR with views from every picture window. 5 bd, 4 ba complete the downstairs. “Restored” Viking kitchen, hdwd flrs, gated, walled, private, secure. Landscaped grounds with trails surround the home with room for pool and pool house.
YOUR MAMAS NOTES: We had our eye on this house for some time, but had a difficult time cracking the real estate trust code. This house has been held in a trust by Barry Greenfield, a powerful business manager and accountant for celebrities and other rich people. But we knew deep in our fat gut the place belonged to someone famous. And, as we usually are (can you year the horns tooting?), we were correct. A very reliable and accurate source for Your Mama, a man we’ll call John Doe, tells us confidently and assuredly this house belongs to red carpet queen Steven Cojocaru.
Your Mama remembers the first time we ever saw Miss Cojo on the boob tube like it was yesterday. We were sitting on our Knoll two seater mainlining the morning coffee and absently flipped on the television set, and KABLAM! There was Miss Cojo, legs crossed and lips all glossy and reflecting the lights, shamelessly flirting with and batting her heavily mascara-ed eyes at the hunky and obviously loving the attention Matt Lauer. Your Mama was breathless watching this rail thin boy-girl creature who was tightly wrapped in brightly colored fabrics needle Mister Lauer about his manly chest hair. Lawhd children we thought we’d stumbled into some alternative universe of nelly fantasy pornography. But no, it was just the Today Show where this hyperactive hair product whore was being paid big money to be a fashion critic. At first, we were stunned, shocked, and flabbergasted. Then we quietly said to our bitches Linda and Beverly, “See that ladies? You go girl.”
Anyone who has ever turned on the television, flipped through the pages of a tabloid, or read a snarky online gossip site knows that a few years ago Miss Cojo was taken ill and required a kidney transplant. The first one failed and a second one was necessary. Not only did Miss Cojo have to endure the painful surgeries, she had to endure the humiliation of the Today Show firing her just three weeks after the first transplant. Bitches.
Then the poor thing blew up like a rich and bloated suburban housewife marinated in booze and an unhappy marriage. Although not in possession of the rail think rocker body she used to have, more recently Miss Cojo has lost some weight. But she hasn’t lost that flat iron that presses her locks into a Sally Hershberger shag. Nowadays we get to see Cojo working her thing for Entertainment Tonight.
Property records show Cojo purchased this house in August of 2004 for $2,225,000. When it was first put on the market, the asking price was $3,150,000, but was reduced to $2,995,000 before a buyer was secured.
Sitting just above Sunset Boulevard on a teeny tiny little lot, the house climbs down the hill to a height of three stories with enviable views of Los Angeles. And best of all, it’s a stone’s throw from the Chateau Marmont, one of Hollywood favorite places for the young, rich, and famous to tryst, throw punches at the paps, and generally behave badly (think Adam Levine, Cameron Diaz, and of course, every one’s favorite train wreck, La Lohan).
If we’re being honest, Your Mama was a little surprised to find out this house belongs to the ebullient and flamboyant Cojo. We expected this florid fashion risk taker would live up in a house that looked more like the dressing room of a Broadway diva. You know, stockings hanging over the door, tubes of lip gloss and eye liner all over the bathroom counter, and racks and racks of shiny satin suits and bedazzled t-shirts. And a scorching hot flat iron in every room, plugged in and ready to give Miss Thing’s tresses a press at a moments notice.
We are quite certain this interior on-sawm–bla is the work of a stager, because you just know someone with the sort of flair that Cojo has would not be coming home to this sort of neutral decor. Don’t get Your Mama wrong, this place looks nice, it just lacks a certain Cojo-ness
We could pass out from glee over the living room with the soaring beamed ceilings, the simple mantle with the even more simple black and white drawing. The white walls and white sofas? More heaven in our book. But the little black chair with the lap blanket? Please, that’s just silly stager shit.
The dining room set is a little medieval for our taste, and the red walls are a big over-done yawn. Although we’re not usually very comfortable or complimentary of drapery, these simple silk shantung things are a lovely color and have the sheen and shine we would expect to find at Cojo’s house.
The kitchen, although obviously well appointed with a nice stove and a warming drawer and all that good stuff, is a big snooze for Your Mama. Just too much brown and beige in there for our taste.
We sort of like the office space with the big luscious windows. But y’all know that is not a room where Cojo actually works. Again we are appreciating the blood red curtains which frame the view and reflect the light nicely. Also they are a subtle reference to a red carpet which we’re not sure is cute or cliche.
Down to the bedroom. We’re good with most of what we see, but here the curtains distract us and we would prefer to see them incinerated and replaced with something more organic like bamboo matchstick blinds that filter the light in a sexy sort of way.
The terrace looks like the perfect place for Cojo to take in the city that has happily embraced his sissiness, his sharp tongue, and his flair for the fashion. Your Mama would never wander the streets and clubs of Los Angeles or go on the boob tube with ironed and high-lighted hair, or strut the red carpet looking like a lady wearing a purple satin suit. But we love that Cojo does. Rock on sister. No man sports a few diamond brooches and a face full of make up better than you.
Sources: Internet Movie Data Base, Hank Stuever