Can you put a price on peace and quiet? Apparently, you can in Palm Beach

Several years ago, I was writing a story about a real estate agent who sells luxury homes to the wealthiest people in the country, and one day, he invited me to tag along.

We bounced around from property to property until we eventually arrived at a place he described as “the crown jewels”. A house so disgustingly opulent it made me feel quite nauseous (thankfully, there were 10 bathrooms to choose from, should I need to vomit).

I trailed behind as the agent reeled off details to the potential buyers – a drop-down fireplace, the heated infinity pool, a butler’s pantry as big as my apartment – but one selling point impressed them the most. “Can you hear that?” he asked. “Complete and utter silence.”

Forget flashy cars and enormous houses, silence is our most contemporary status symbol. Credit: Michael Howard

We all agreed that you can’t put a price on that kind of quiet, though there was indeed a price, a very high one. While they wordlessly celebrated their purchase (What? No yelling about pre-approval?), it dawned on me that silence wasn’t just golden but aspirational.

Forget fancy cars or expensive clothes. True decadence is an absence of noise, and the higher your net worth, the lower the decibels must be. Since then, I have been quietly obsessed with silence as a status symbol, a commodity that has only become more valuable in the face of decreasing supply.

It’s no secret that our cities and lives are flooded with noise. From the moment we wake up, buzzes, dings, and notifications play in the background.

Even as I write this article, I cannot escape the soundtrack of my neighbourhood.

Outside my apartment, someone is battling with a whipper snipper the constant sputtering only drowned out by the raucous laughter of two kids in the stairwell. “Use your inside voices,” their father yells before stomping up the 22 steps it takes to get to his front door.

I know all of my neighbour’s favourite TV shows, and they undoubtedly know all the strange nicknames I have for my wife. “Did he just call her Tiny Angel? That’s so weird?”

From the moment we wake up, buzzes, dings, and notifications play in the background.

Not only am I used to the noise, but I also enjoy it. A lifetime of conditioning has taught me that a good life is one filled with crashes, bangs, and chaos. However, when you get a sample of how the other half live, or at least what they hear, you begin to understand silence as a selling point.

In her article for The Atlantic, Why Do Rich People Love Quiet? Xochitl Gonzalez discusses moving away for college, swapping her noisy Brooklyn neighbourhood for the hushed grounds of an Ivy League school: “I soon realised that silence was more than the absence of noise; it was an aesthetic to be revered.”

Gonzalez is onto something: silence isn’t just nice because it’s relaxing; it’s become a way of signifying your connection to a more enlightened and enviable class. Quietude is a marker of exclusivity – quiet spaces are rich spaces – galleries, private clubs and airport lounges.

While the rest of us are bombarded with endless yet impossible-to-decipher announcements, the lounge is a silent-promised land populated by people in understated designer clothing. Ah yes, quiet luxury, when even the wardrobe is allergic to noise.

Shhhhh. The art gallery is one of the few places where silence can be shared by everyone.Credit: Stock

Unfortunately, the problem with selling silence to the highest bidder is that it creates a feeling of entitlement. Travel down to Sydney’s most exclusive enclave on the northern beaches, home to the affluent suburb of Palm Beach, and “Can you hear that?” may as well be the official motto. Followed by the words: “Yes, I can, it’s too loud.”

Earlier this year, several residents of Palm Beach thwarted an application for landmark restaurant The Joey to trade during the evening, citing noise issues.

The council received 132 submissions supporting the proposal for night trading and seven submissions against – the power of a quiet few.

The Joey at Palm Beach has had its application for extended trading hours rejectedCredit: Alex Marks

A restaurant in nearby Whale Beach faced similar issues in April when applying to double its capacity to 150 seats, but a court ruled in favour of the owners. Meanwhile, a silent group became unusually vocal last year when complaining about a Mosman bowling club hosting trivia nights and a children’s jumping castle.

In a hilarious twist, an email sent by one of the venue’s neighbours began with the words: “It has become imperative that we cannot be silent.”

Can you hear that? The sound of deafening hypocrisy. If anything has become imperative it’s a need to split the silence equally. Peace and quiet shouldn’t be co-opted, no matter how much noise you make about it (or how many bathrooms you have).

Now, if you excuse I must be off; the neighbours just switched on the 6pm news, which means it must be time for dinner.

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [e-mail] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

Find out the next TV, streaming series and movies to add to your must-sees. Get The Watchlist delivered every Thursday.