By Adam Ferraresi, March 11, 2025
Perched atop the cliffs of La Jolla, overlooking an ocean that cares little for the fleeting wealth of those who gaze upon it, stands a $40 million testament to America’s ruling class. Enes Yilmazer, a modern-day courtier of luxury, tours this architectural marvel—7,808 square feet of sleek surfaces, curated opulence, and the illusion of permanence. The estate, with its seven bedrooms and six baths, sprawls across a mere 0.42-acre plot, a symbol not of abundance, but of scarcity—of land, of access, of a world increasingly cordoned off for the few.
But this is America, and this is California, where to live well—truly well—does not require $40 million. Yet for those who can burn such sums without consequence, the price is merely an abstraction. Here, you do not pay for the structure itself; you pay for exclusivity, for the privilege of isolation, for the assurance that the struggles of the many remain comfortably out of sight.
One could build a similar home elsewhere for a fraction of the cost, but this is not about value—it is about spectacle, about reinforcing a hierarchy that dictates who may stand atop the cliffs and who must remain below. And so the machine turns, churning out ever more palatial retreats for the ultra-rich, even as the working class is evicted from cities they can no longer afford.
To some, this mansion is a dream. To others, it is a reminder that in a nation where capital reigns, the distance between wealth and suffering is measured in square footage and ocean views.
