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July 2008
Young. Hip. St. Charles???
By: Elizabeth Kinney
Creative Writer
“Are you okay?”
“Um…Yeah I’ll be fine. I’m just having a hard time breathing.”
“You sure?”
“Do you have a paper bag handy?”
Hyperventilating in Pat Pashia’s office was my first New Town experience. I was barely twenty three, living with my parents in West County, newly engaged, and working in the “real world” for six months when my then fiancé Jeff and I signed our contract for a house in New Town. Green, young, and naïve would be an appropriate description of me at the time.
Months prior, our friends and family had been talking about Whittaker’s new development, New Town, and everyone seemed to have a different opinion, “Oh, it sounds really cool” “a concept that will never work” “I think it would be fun to live there” “It’s for old people”. So on a Saturday in February Jeff suggested we take a look at this “new town” and form an opinion for ourselves. I agreed, but my real motive for going was to prove to Jeff that this concept was as much as for us as Del Boca Vista, Florida.
Growing up in Wisconsin and moving to St. Louis in high school, I was terribly unfamiliar with anything outside the city limits of Wildwood; my first visit to St. Charles wasn’t until 2001 driving to Jeff’s parents’ house for our first Thanksgiving. My only knowledge of St. Charles was Historic St. Charles’ Main Street.
All of my friends were renting apartments in Clayton or lofts downtown and I, as my friends lovingly called it, was moving to “the Chuck”. I wanted to move somewhere like my friends, an area where I could walk to restaurants, were I wouldn’t have to drive 10 miles out of my way for the nearest grocery store, a place where there would be young people!
On our drive to New Town I quickly gave Jeff a skeptical look- we were driving through farmland. We pulled up to a small house-like structure strategically placed on the only paved road which quickly dead-ended by the sales office. I gave Jeff a victorious smile; there was no way we were going to build a house on a farm.
We walked into the sales department, checked out the illustrations, and the Phase I Master Plan. My hesitations lessened and my interest slightly rose. Jeff on the other hand was smiling like a kid in toy store patiently deciding his next prize. After 30 minutes of walking around the sales office, a nice woman named Pat introduced herself, asked if we had questions, and explained there were only six lots available to buy. She asked if we would like to see which lots were available and Jeff jumped at the opportunity. I quietly sat down as Pat showed us the lots. I was no where near ready to buy a home but I thought it would be okay to get ideas and prices.
It wasn’t until after an hour in Pat’s office, signing our names on pink contracts, when I realized we were buying a house. A wave of panic washed over me. I turned to Jeff and exclaimed, “We’re buying a house?!” Little did I know Jeff had a scheme of his very own. The week before we signed the contract, Jeff had already visited New Town and instantly fell in love with it. The only thing stopping him from purchasing that day was me.
Several weeks had passed and I was still uncomfortable with the purchase. A call from Pat changed everything. New lots I would possibly be interested in were available; I just needed to run down to sales center to take a look. I reluctantly took her up on her offer because I was on the fence about staying in New Town. Once I met her, she showed me fourteen lots, five of them were purchased by newly weds in their 20s. I am still convinced Pat is a mind reader.
Three years later, my friends who moved to Clayton or downtown are jealous of me. Sure, they could walk to bars too, but they don’t go out with their neighbors. They can go to bigger grocery stores, but none friendlier or more accommodating than Marsala’s. And NONE of them have a lazy river in walking distance.
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