Tales from the hunt #1

December. 

It’s 9:30 p.m. when we hang up with our client. He’s French, based in London, father of three, married to Nathalie, a painter. His name is Jules, 51, half-finance-half-tech prodigy. What Jules wants is to stop spending obscene amounts of money renting dream villas every summer. He wants his own. Something like the one he rented in July… but also a bit like last year’s… and of course with his own twist. Well—mostly Nathalie’s twist. 

What he wants is a place where he can grill a côte de bœuf in August with friends and family while proudly wearing his latest Vilebrequin all day long. A place everyone will envy him. A place from which he can hop on a buggy to pick up wine from the small local producer. A place where he can disappear alone for a few days in April, when everything and everyone exhausts him. 

A place that gives meaning, balance, and some kind of justice to his 80-hour weeks, his feet swelling on long-haul flights to negotiate with Asia, the sinus headaches from climate changes, and that quiet voice in his head whispering: “Enough. It’s time to slow down. I want to enjoy the people I love.” A place that says it all.

 

And for this, Jules chooses Corsica. Smart choice: softness of life, raw French wilderness, paradise within reach. He knows every corner of the island, the kids know every private beach party. His budget fits the brief: €15M for a beachfront home, private access, at least 400 sqm, a garden framed by maritime pines. But he’s looked already, and there’s nothing good. Or rather… nothing beautiful. We get it. We know.

 

We shake hands and get to work. He’s relieved—he can let go. Our local expert is on deck. After a big team meeting, a sharp action plan, countless field visits, whispered conversations, fences climbed, and owners charmed, we proudly call Jules: “Jules, grab Nath. Meet us next weekend in Porto-Vecchio.”

 

March.

Three months after that first call, we finally meet on the tarmac. Warm greetings, no time to waste, we head straight to dinner / espresso / limoncello before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow, sunrise visit.

 

 

Casa Solela - Saturday morning, 7:30 a.m.

Jules isn’t smiling, he got lost twice with the rental car on a steep little road and it’s too early. Nathalie is glowing, she usually finishes her barefoot morning yoga around this time. The door opens. A lovely caretaker couple welcomes us. Morning light pours in and reveals a massive glass-fronted living room overlooking a black-marble pool, pine trees, olive trees, and an outrageous beach.

 

Nobody talks. We knew. Silently, we bow to the beauty of that entrance.

 

Jules walks straight ahead towards the view, the garden, the infinite blue. Nathalie apologizes for following him; good manners aren’t lost. Forget the traditional tour, if the outside calls first, let them breathe it in. 

 

We start making coffee. The caretakers are Colombian; their coffee is divine. Our expert approaches quietly and hands Jules & Nathalie their cups facing the sea. Yes, it’s divine. Yes, they’re Colombian. And so, cups in hand, we walk around the property. Instant love. We take our time. The visit lasts 90 minutes. We listen to the sounds, touch the walls, chat with the caretakers who know every bolt of the house, we lie on the sofas, Jules tests the guest bathroom, Nathalie scans the dressing with her eyes. Leaving hurts, but another viewing awaits.

 

 

Casa Lutecia - Saturday morning, 10 a.m.

Charming, raw, unpolished, more exposed. Halfway through, Jules asks me for numbers on Casa Solela. That’s when I know he’s in love. When you’re talking about one woman while visiting another… you haven’t forgotten the first.

The visit was quick. 

 

 

Beach shack - Saturday morning, 11 a.m.

We head to a beach shack they didn’t know. A grilled John Dory and a glass of Fiumicicoli make everything clearer. They’re delighted. Both visits were strong and nothing like the disappointing market they’ve seen since day one. They feel our added value.

 

Quickly, they confirm what we already sensed: they want to make an offer on Casa Solela. It’s €1M above their budget, but we don’t waste time. While they finish their coffee, our expert steps out onto the sand to call the owner.

 

The conversation is brief. The owner is open to a reasonable offer and invites them to spend the night in the house, free of charge. Jules and Nathalie are surprised and thrilled. It’s rare to live a villa before deciding. We let them grab their things at the hotel and arrange a dinner cooked in-house by the caretakers. The owner asks to place a chilled bottle of champagne for them.

We meet them late afternoon to open the door, then disappear to let them enjoy the place.

 

The next morning, a short text from Jules:

“Already on the plane. Magical evening and night. Thanks again to the owner. We’ll send an offer within 48 hours.”

 

What follows is a fierce week of negotiation—fast, precise, relentless. Deal secured. Price split down the middle. Straight to the notary. The story could have ended here, curtain down on a perfect happy ending.

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BUT. 
 

May.
Two months after signing the preliminary agreement, we get a call that turns everything upside down.

Jules, following advice from his Paris notary, added a condition precedent to change the property’s status to para-hotelier. We warn him: high risk of refusal, knowing the island, and since he barely plans to rent it (just enough to cover costs). The current status easily allows at least 120 rental nights a year which is more than enough.

But his notary insists. Given his financial structure, it’s “better.” Again, we highlight the extremely low chances of approval, and we promise to support the process locally. Two months later, the prefecture’s verdict drops: REFUSED.

 

Predictable. 

What wasn’t predictable was Jules backing out.

 

In love, yes.

But scared, more.

We understand. We hear the weight of regret in his silence.

 

The owner is disappointed; he liked Jules and Nathalie.

So did we. The team cheers itself up with a limoncello. 

 

June. 

Our assistant rushes in with the phone: “Potential client on the line, asking for Corsica.”

 

We take the call. Olivier, 57. Referred by a partner. And what he wants is to stop spending absurd amounts renting incredible villas every summer. He wants his own. Something like the one he rented in July…

 

“Olivier, do you like Colombian coffee?”

 

September. 

Olivier just sent us a selfie standing over a côte de bœuf. We still don’t know if he’s wearing Vilebrequin, but we know he’s happy.

 

Jules & Nathalie are still searching for their place. Our team is helping them refine the perfect destination before launching a new hunt.

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Every client has a story worth telling—like Jules & Nathalie’s. Don’t miss the next ones: subscribe below to Edition Cazar and have them delivered right to your inbox.