São Paulo's Super-Rich

Article by: Robert Landon, July 2007

The rich of São Paulo are very rich indeed, and the temple at which they worship is called Daslu (tel: 55 11 3841 4000; Av Chedid Jafet 131; Mon-Sat 10am-8pm, until 10pm Tue). It looks like a Roman villa on steroids, but in fact it's the city's most exclusive department store. Nannies and bodyguards trail the supplicants in their progress through its hushed galleries, where Italian clothes and French tableware, Angolan diamonds and Cuban cigars are laid out for their pleasure. When the supplicants grow thirsty or heavy of heart, young women in frilly maids' uniforms stand ready with free doses of espresso, biscotti and sparkling water.

Brazil has been dubbed Belindia, because the rich live like richest Belgians and the poor live like the poorest Indians.

Brazil has been dubbed Belindia, because the rich live like richest Belgians and the poor live like the poorest Indians. I lived for a time in Rio de Janeiro, where I quickly became versed in this gaping divide. I had friends on both sides of it, and when fate would have them meet, each was full of social niceties - Brazil's great genius is bonhomie - yet at the same time revealed a silent bewilderment as how to negotiate their suddenly equal footing. It was sad to watch. Sadder still was to learn that one young friend earned exactly as much each month as the least expensive university cost to attend.

However, Rio does have one place where class differences are erased, at least temporarily: the city's beaches. The dress code - a swimsuit and a pair of flip-flops - invites all comers, and the elite are not the rich but the beautiful.

São Paulo, of course, has no beach. Street life is limited by the general ugliness of said streets. And even the weather drives people inside, since skies tend to be either grey with drizzle or brown with smog. As a result, the city's greatness - and there's plenty of it - lies not in public vistas but private oases: art-house cinemas hidden in lacklustre malls, dazzling nightclubs behind unmarked black doors, windowless restaurants that thrive in their own aesthetic microclimate.

It makes sense then that rich Paulistanos have retreated into a series of privileged bubbles. Crime, including targeted kidnappings, keeps them there. To move safely from one bubble to the next, Paulistanos have taken to the skies. By most accounts, São Paulo has more helicopter traffic than any other city in the world. Lotus (tel: 55 11 3043 7130; Av Nações Unidos 12551, Brooklin; Wed-Sat 11pm until late), the Brazilian branch of New York's super-elite nightclub, has a helioport for its guests. So does Daslu.

Unfortunately, these conditions make it difficult to observe wealthy Paulistanos in their native habitat. However, there are certain watering holes where you can still observe them up close and, if your budget allows, even join in the privileged good times.

In terms of nightlife, São Paulo has no rivals - not London, not New York, not Ibiza in August.

Begin your safari at the super-refined Hotel Fasano (tel: 3896 4000; Rua Vittorio Fasano 88; doubles from R$950). Much of the city's current elite is descended from Italian immigrants. This hotel pays homage to their heritage with a design that recalls Milan circa 1938: sleek, grey marble walls and period furnishings (all references to Mussolini carefully deleted). Rooms (from US$400/night) and meals (from about US$100 at the hotel's renowned restaurant) may be out of reach, but dress neatly and they'll serve you a drink in their lobby for under US$10.

Daslu, by contrast, is absolutely free. There is one hitch, though: you can't arrive by foot. The hulking store stands behind a columned gate through which a mere pedestrian may not pass. If you're unable to arrive by helicopter or armoured SUV, a hired taxi will do.

In terms of nightlife, São Paulo has no rivals - not London, not New York, not Ibiza in August. The rich cannot be denied their share of the fun, and you can join them at Lotus or Disco (tel: 3813 4708; Rua Professor Atílio Innocente 160; Thu-Sat 11am-late), a club so ethereal it doesn't need a proper a name. It's fitted out with a glittering, futuristic decor by the same designers that brought you Hotel Fasano. Full disclosure: music tends more toward electronica than Donna Summer, despite the name. Dress spiffily and bring US$100 or so for cover and a few rounds of drinks. Even rich Paulistanos complain that such prices are absurd - which is, or course, why they go there in the first place.