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An agent sits on a sofa in a cream jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to denote devil-may-care. “There’s no ‘I’ in team. But there is one ‘I’ in super prime. And that is me. I’m Daniel Daggers aka Mr Super Prime.” The bespectacled, stubble-chinned Londoner has a ready laugh, throwing his head back constantly to bare his gleaming teeth.
Daggers believes that his upstart agency DDRE can upend the norms of selling property in Britain. Small is mighty, he hopes. “In the story of David vs Goliath it’s David that wins. Or is it Daniel?” He laughs again, wide enough to show his molars.
It’s clear from this opening sequence of Buying London — which launches today — that it is the latest entry in an established TV niche: real estate-based reality shows that deploy a similar format combining Insta-glam protagonists in confected squabbles against each other with multimillion-dollar backdrops. From Million Dollar Beach House to Listing Impossible, Buying Beverly Hills and Selling Sunset, they have become a juggernaut for reality TV junkies — last November, the weekly audience for season seven of Selling Sunset reached 4.7mn, and it was regularly among Netflix’s most-viewed shows.
Buying London follows the formula of its predecessors with the devotion of a Swiftie at their 10th concert: DDRE’s team includes a house stager with a made-for-TV swagger (and pout) and a colleague whose closeness to the boss is a friction-driving plot point. But there is one crucial twist: its setting. Most such shows thus far have been filmed in the US, where working as an estate agent has long been a glitzy job — with a generous typical commission of 5-6 per cent of the selling price, split between buyer’s and seller’s agent. In the UK, agents’ commission is an average of 1.2 per cent, according to self-employed agency brand IAD UK.
Carlton Gardens, London, where Daggers sold a £95mn home to US hedge fund boss Ken Griffin © Dave Porter/Alamy
Buying London is part of an attempt to shift the perception (and profitability) of estate agencies in the UK towards the US model; to make it more aspirational, rather than the punchline-primed profession it once was. Under owner George Azar, for example, Sotheby’s London has set a floor of 2 per cent on fees with hopes to charge more, while also luring name-brand brokers, including Rokstone founder Becky Fatemi, to join its roster.
It is telling, though, that this sister show to Selling Sunset is titled Buying London rather than Selling London, a hint perhaps of its true intended audience. While other shows offer both inspiration for those keen to join the profession and act as a video catalogue of appealing properties for high-end buyers, this one’s main target is the latter.
Daggers has made media presence central to his brand for some time. The 44-year-old worked his way up to partner at Knight Frank, a role he occupied for more than a decade, where his deals included a £95mn sale in London to US hedge fund boss Ken Griffin. The Daggers USP for VIPs was unabashed self-promotion, mostly via Instagramming the homes and lifestyles that he was selling. That instinct reportedly went too far when he shared images of a client’s home online without permission, and he then resigned from Knight Frank in late 2019. He went on to establish DDRE.
“I don’t think we’ve had much pride in our industry,” says Daggers. “It’s been a revelation for a lot of the agents in the UK to see TV programmes like this from around the world.” Daggers, who grew up in north London local authority housing, says he only became an estate agent after a broken collarbone derailed his teenage dream of becoming a professional footballer. He parlayed a few weeks’ work experience at an estate agency into a full-time profession.
“They don’t want to deal with strangers,” he says of high-end buyers, “but individuals who have what I call trust equity, whether due to referrals or because they’re known through the media.” Hence his personal brand-building strategy, of which Buying London is the latest iteration. “In Manhattan, often the agent who was most successful was the one who was most recognised walking down the street.”
In parts of Manhattan, that “most recognised” agent may well be Fredrik Eklund. The upper-class Swede arrived in New York almost two decades ago, and turned to real estate after stints in other industries, including porn. Last year, Eklund and his co-team leader, John Gomes, sold $3.77bn worth of property, with clients including Daniel Craig and Jennifer Lopez. And it is a reality show that underpins their 13-office, five-state empire: Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing, on which Eklund was a cast member for almost a decade, shooting nearly 130 episodes.
“I was a young guy in the industry,” he says, recalling that his friends, family and even clients discouraged him from joining the fledgling show. But Eklund pressed on. “I promised myself when I signed on that there were three things I was not going to do: cry, take my clothes off and have a big fight.” He pauses, with a flourish. “Within two seasons, I’d done all three.”
I promised myself when I signed on that there were three things I was not going to do: cry, take my clothes off and have a big fight. Within two seasons, I’d done all three
It took a while for him to see a true impact on his bottom line, he says. “The more vulnerable I showed myself to be, the more business I got.” Overseas buyers shopping for homes in New York would contact him via his TV profile. He earned a 3 per cent commission from a buyer who contacted him after they had seen a $32mn apartment. “They just wanted me to submit the offer, which took about 10 minutes of my time. I felt a little guilty, almost, but I worked really hard to be on TV.”
Another client added an unusual clause into their contract: a photo at the closing with Eklund. His profile was also handy for referrals from other agents, especially once Instagram emerged. “A post about a property could give a huge amount of traffic to the listing [from other agents].” He left Million Dollar Listing in 2021 but remains keen to preserve his celebrity and, by extension, his business: he appears on the Swedish version of the international Dragons’ Den format (Shark Tank in the US) and he teases that he’s about to launch another real estate-based show of his own.
Not all of New York’s high-end brokers think fame and renown are synonymous. Edward F Johnston III from Brown Harris Stevens moved to New York from North Carolina in 2001. “Even as a kid, my parents put me in the car to go drive around and see nice houses in nice neighbourhoods,” he says. “Someone told me years ago that you move to LA for fame, Washington DC for power and New York for money,” he says. “New York is more private, and a lot of people like to have a broker that’s reflective of that.”
A scene from ‘Selling Sunset’, which scored 4.7mn weekly viewers in November 2023 © Courtesy of Netflix 2023
While brokers like Eklund focus on glitzy new condo developments, Johnston’s expertise lies in co-ops, where buyers are effectively becoming co-owners of a building rather than simply snapping up an apartment. Being wealthy is not enough to pass muster. “Two buildings next door to each other, similar addresses with similar architectural features? You should consider them two different countries,” he says of how readily one or the other might accept a buyer. Where this more delicate negotiation is needed, boldfaced stardom might backfire, he says. “Someone who’s well known for their discretion and professionalism doesn’t need the spotlight.”
For Enzo Morabito, however, stardom was part of the dream. “Whoever comes into this industry, of course they want to be a superstar,” he says. “I didn’t just do it to say ‘I want to make a living.’” The fast-talking De Niro-lookalike is a broker with Douglas Elliman, and has been nicknamed Mr Hamptons for his profile in Long Island’s toniest enclaves.
Morabito prefers old-fashioned stunts to TV stardom. On sunny summer days in the Hamptons, when beaches were packed, he used to hire planes to tow a banner proclaiming “Weather courtesy of Enzo!” He relies on charisma more than any onscreen viral squabble. “Some people have it, some wish they could, some have a little bit of it. When you do have it, you’re the facilitator.”
All of these agents have focused on personal branding, via Bravo or plane banners. Yet luxury expert Winston Chesterfield, of consultancy Barton, says the super-agent concept isn’t new, but dates back to the 1980s, when Manhattan in particular saw a building boom with developers including Donald Trump. Before the internet opened up access and communication to almost anyone, “having the right agent meant they knew the right people to call to sell efficiently and get a good price”, says Chesterfield. The earliest super-agents earned their commissions via their connections.
One of the properties featured in ‘Selling Sunset’ © Netflix 2022
Today, there is a lower barrier to entry: an agent can become a mere middleman after a billionaire spots an apartment online, earning the same commission for a very different role. Branding oneself is, in part, a way to demonstrate value in that far flatter landscape, says Chesterfield. Selling yourself is proof of your sales skills in general. “Say, hypothetically, there’s a Kazakh person selling a Belgrave Square town house for £100mn? It might be fun for that person to sell their property with someone their daughter has seen on a Netflix show. It’s a frisson of excitement.”
Beyond the US and UK, others are also choosing to make themselves brand names, keen to show they live the same life that they’re selling. Farnaz Elbæk runs a namesake brokerage near Copenhagen with her husband Lars; they specialise in ultra high-net-worth buyers. “Mostly the people who are living the life we are, are doing it very quietly. We don’t mind making noise about it,” Elbæk says. She scoffs at suggestions of Scandinavia’s egalitarian instincts, which might make it harder to operate this way. “The Danish want you to believe that, but in the real world, it’s definitely not the case — of course there are VIPs.”
Whoever comes into this industry, of course they want to be a superstar. I didn’t just do it to say ‘I want to make a living’
Bulgaria-born Vessela Nedialkova of Savoir Privé Properties in Dubai has been working in the industry there for almost 20 years, since leaving her role as a fashion executive. In a city-state of branded residences, where the name Armani, Lamborghini or Versace might appear as readily on a building as a garment, branding agents is a natural instinct. Qualifications are needed to practice in Dubai, she says, but that hasn’t stopped an influx of money-hungry twentysomethings, mostly from the UK, flooding her market.
“A training course doesn’t show how you’ll perform afterwards,” she says. She does not mention the BBC Three show Dubai Hustle, featuring a trio of hungry young agents of that ilk, but it’s easy to make the connection.
Daggers hopes to prove Nedialkova wrong. As Buying London premieres, he is about to expand beyond selling other people’s homes to sell his own expertise via a new DDRE-branded training course. He says it will open up the protocols he has adopted to anyone willing to learn. “I can count on probably two hands the amount of days I’ve had in external, outside training, and I’ve been an agent for about 26 years,” he says, adding that he was never taught “how to negotiate. I had to learn on the job.”
He’s hopeful that the course will spread his industry-disrupting creed more widely. At the same time, Buying London should help him create an entirely new revenue stream from this hustling how-to. “We’ve just modified it in preparation for all the attention we’re about to get.” At around $500 per person for that DDRE course, he’s likely to earn more than attention from the show.
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