Mentawai surfing pioneer Martin Daly reports crocodiles at Macaronis

“Mick Fanning’s house balances elegance with
excess, often hinting at the underlying tragedy of unattainable
dreams.”

If you ever lived on the southern end of the Gold Coast
before the big developers moved in and prices went through the sky,
two mill and up for a box at Rainbow Bay,
you’d realise the
absurdity of a buyer throwing almost twenty mill at a house across
the road from noisy ol’ Coolangatta airport. 

But here we are, Australia, the lucky country. 

A joint so rich in  natural resources but so dumb
politically, we ship our ore, our gas, overseas for peanuts while
keeping the economy superficially bouncing along with the mass
importation of people.

A house used to be the Australian dream, then a little
apartment, now it’s earning enough in the gig economy to keep up
with rents that soar twenty percent every year. 

Still, there’s big money out there.

And, Mick Fanning, the forty-four-year-old three-time champ, has
just sold his sprawling beachfront estate called Rolling Seas at
Bilinga pre-auction for $16.5 mill. It’s a record price for a joint
between Coolangatta and Currumbin. 

Fanning bought the land in 2011 for $3.25 and built the Great
Gatsby-inspired house, which he lived in briefly. It’s where
Fanning’s mysterious strawberry blonde stalker busted into a few
years back.


“I occasionally want to kill you … to end our occasional
miserable bullshit,” the woman told Fanning in a letter prior to
her unannounced visit.

Celebrity stylists Three Birds Renovation did a number on the
joint a couple of years back that turned the place into the sorta
Palm Springs themed place André Balazs had in mind when he
redeveloped the old Golden Crest Hotel Retirement Home on 8300
Sunset, West Hollywood.

(RIP
The Standard West Hollywood
) 

As one outlet reported,

“Mick Fanning’s house is sophistication, rebellion, and
indulgence. It balances elegance with excess, often hinting at the
underlying tragedy of unattainable dreams.”

The stretch of sand along Bilinga is as ordinary as they come,
rarely, like, never, delivering a day worth even a pinch of shit,
as they say.

So you got your big ol beachfront joint and you still have to
jump in the truck to go surfing, either at nearby D-Bah, Kirra,
Snapper in the south or the better beachies just north in Currumbin
and Palm Beach.

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