[en] April: The Never Before Seens

The street with the most expensive apartments in Mexico City—and probably the whole country—is Rubén Darío. The buildings on this street overlook the massive Chapultepec Park, a place that since pre-Columbian times has been linked with the highest social classes, serving as a retreat for the Aztec rulers of Tenochtitlán. Today, the residents of these towers enjoy the view of 2,140 acres of urban forest that contains a zoo, the largest museums in the country, the old presidential residence, a theme park, and the only royal castle in North America. Ironically, this is all happening on a street named after a Nicaraguan poet who was famously critical of bourgeois values.

“El rey tenía un palacio soberbio donde había acumulado riquezas y objetos de arte maravillosos… Subía por una escalera llena de columnas de alabastro y de esmaragdina, que tenía a los lados leones de mármol, como los de los tronos salomónicos. Refinamiento.”
(“The king had a magnificent palace where he had amassed riches and marvelous works of art… He ascended a staircase lined with alabaster and emerald-green columns, flanked by marble lions like those of Solomon’s throne. Refinement.”) (Darío, 2013, p. 18; translation mine)

The idea of this project began after I came across Private Views: A High-Rise Panorama of Manhattan by Hungarian architect and photographer Andi Schmied. Her work shows the most privileged views of Manhattan from perhaps the most luxurious apartments in the world—places only a handful of multimillionaires can afford. This led me to think: Are there places like this in my city? How much are they worth? And if so, how can I get access to them with my camera?

I started by creating a persona—a character with a backstory believable enough to earn the trust of realtors who would show me these places. This character, played by myself, was the son of a wealthy family of four who—as you would naturally expect—had moved at an early age to Madrid and spent most of his life in Europe. Since his parents had recently given their Mexico City apartment to his sister, they, of course, needed a new one. So, they asked their son, me, to find a beautiful apartment in Polanco with a view of the park—something they could proudly parade in front of their European guests.

"This apartment would easily rent for about $25,000 a month.” One of the realtors told me during a visit.
"My parents aren't interested in doing business right now; they would want to live here.” I replied.

With this telenovela-worthy backstory locked in, I began my search for the most expensive apartment in Mexico City with the best views. Unsurprisingly, they were all located on the street facing Chapultepec Park: Rubén Darío. I contacted the agencies listing these properties and waited. It didn't take long to get some visits scheduled as most realtors had completely bought my backstory and only asked for my ID.

The next challenge was to look the part. Since I didn’t own any of the big-name brands that Masaryk Street people casually wear on Sundays, I leaned into my character’s European background and opted for something sophisticated yet understated: no logos, no brands, no accessories, just my Leica M5 slung over my shoulder—because what other camera brand would a millionaire heir use?

Before arriving, I walked from the fictitious place where I was staying—my sister's apartment—to the building I would be visiting. I knew it was very unlikely for the realtors to notice this, but it felt right to set the mood and warm up for the visit. Once I met the realtors, I had a simple rule: for every three pieces of information I received, I would share one personal detail. I was to reveal background elements only when relevant to the property discussion, maintaining an aura of mystery and not blowing my cover. I also wanted to keep my answers as vague and detached as possible when asked, but to my surprise, realtors rarely asked personal questions—they never even asked what I or my millionaire father did for a living, which now feels like an obvious question to skip given the context.

“Would you like to see the bodyguard’s area?” A realtor asked  as we finished a visit.

When it came to taking photos, I decided to do it as naturally and unapologetically as possible. Since I already had the camera visible, I simply raised it to my eye and took the picture. I was supposedly about to buy a $10 million apartment—why would I be asking for permission to take photos? After a couple of visits, I began to feel comfortable. I realized I could take my time, observe the space, and frame my shots. At worst, it probably just looked like I was carefully evaluating the apartment.

“Sometime you can see the giraffes of the zoo from here, what a shame they are not outside today.” One of the realtors noted while I was framing a photo of the view.

I also became curious about who lived in these buildings. Still in character, I asked the realtors about the neighbors. To my surprise, they were eager to share. They told me what percentage of residents were owners versus renters, and frequently dropped hints like, «An ambassador from a very important country lives here» or «This is home to the CEO of a major company». If it helped sell the place, they were happy to disclose details.

"¿Do your parents ride often on Suburbans?” One of the realtors asked me.
“Not really. There’s no better security than going unnoticed." I replied.
“Great, because I have another apartment with a better view, but the parking lot elevators are not that big, and that bothers many.” 

During my visits, I rarely encountered any actual neighbors. Most of the people moving through these buildings were service employees. I saw more people walking other people's dogs and babysitting other people's children than residents themselves. Even communal spaces that looked like luxury hotels I can't afford to stay in were barely used. One rooftop had an incredible heated infinity pool overlooking Chapultepec Park. It was five years old and looked brand new.

“In the four years I've been coming to this building, this is the first time I've seen someone using the pool.” A realtors commented as he showed me the amenities.

As the spectacle of the views began to wear off, my feelings shifted. It stopped being about beauty or aesthetics. It became about power. What would it feel like to wake up every morning above the castle that once housed the Emperor of Mexico? What would it feel like to look down from your bathroom window at millions of park visitors who could only dream of living like this? Who would I be if I had this view?

“We are lucky, it’s true. No one in the history of the world has lived better than we have. Even the old kings and queens. The least we can do, is enjoy it. If we don’t, it’s offensive. It’s an offense to all the billions of people who can only dream that one day they could live like we do.” (White, 2025, 16:04)

1. Darío, R. (2013). Azul... (1st ed., p. 18). Pequeño Dios Editores.
2. White, M. (Writer & Director). (2025, April 6). Amor Fati (Season 3, Episode 8) [TV series episode]. In M. White, D. Bernad, & N. Hall (Executive Producers), The White Lotus. Rip Cord Productions; HBO