It takes a lot of good business to be able to afford a megayacht. But owning one is very, very bad business, according to Aaron Simpson, founder and group chairman of the members-only concierge service Quintessentially.
“It costs 10 percent of a yacht’s purchase price just to maintain that boat every year,” said the London-based entrepreneur. “If you spend 25 million pounds on the yacht itself, it’ll cost you another 2.5 million to run it—and to use it maybe three weeks of the year!”
So, then, why is he building the world’s biggest one?
“I had this thought back in 2007, when the world was all bling and everything was fantastic, that it would be so much easier for people to own an apartment on a megayacht than own the megayacht outright,” explained Simpson, recalling conversations with boat owners who bemoaned the expense of their lavish seafaring lifestyle.
Quintessentially, a company built on the principle of streamlining the lives of influential people around the globe, saw an opportunity. Its concierge team—which provides 24-hour support to members in 60 cities—is known to fulfill requests that range from hard-to-get restaurant and hotel reservations to having Madonna perform at a spectacular birthday party. (Memberships cost anywhere from $5,000 to $60,000 a year for varying levels of service; the highest tiers are invite-only and there are wait lists to join in several cities.)
At 45,000 tons and 220 meters (721 feet) long, the $304 million Quintessentially One will be 40 meters longer than the biggest yacht sailing the seas today, the $1 billion Azzam, which has been tied to an Emirati royal. The price tag is lower because Simpson didn't feel the need to include things like a missile defense system and personal submarine. Instead, there’s a “James Bond-y” bi-level pool, an offshoot of London’s Wolseley restaurant, a helipad, a theater, and a beach club that’s staffed with Champagne-toting butlers.
Not a Cruise
If this sounds suspiciously like a small, tricked-out cruise ship, we thought so, too. What Simpson is creating isn't structurally unlike a Ponant ship; the French company's large yachts tend to have between 110 and 135 staterooms apiece. (For comparison's sake, the smallest ship on a more traditional cruise liner such as Norwegian can hold almost 2,000 guests.)
But there's one key distinction: Quintessentially One is meant to be about the impressive people on board; the vessel is just an equally impressive backdrop.
Simpson describes it as a TED conference on the seas, attended exclusively by influential professionals you'd want to rub elbows with—a floating hotel for VIPs that drops anchor outside culturally significant events and hosts the most interesting parties. "We wanted to create a boat that you want to get onto—not a boat that you want to get off when it docks," Simpson said. He sees his ship as an end unto itself: It is the destination.
It’s worth noting that Simpson isn't the only one with this idea; Summit at Sea is accepting applications for an intellectuals-only cruise-slash-think-tank in November. Compared with Summit, though, the Quintessentially One is a little less TED and a little more Soho House—and maybe that's not a bad thing at all.