For the past few months, my life has been tethered to a map, a set of spreadsheets, and the unforgiving terrain of Pacific Palisades’ land market. This once idyllic corner of California—lined with eucalyptus trees, sea breezes, and picture-perfect school zones—has been locked in a tug-of-war ever since January’s devastating wildfire turned over 6,800 properties into ash. And now, we’re not so much watching a recovery as we are witnessing a very tense staring contest.
To be honest, I initially believed the post-fire market would follow a somewhat predictable pattern: a quick crash, followed by a steady recovery. In March and April, listings seemed to support that idea—101 and 97 respectively. I told myself, “If we get around 95 listings a month, we might hit bottom by summer.”
But then May happened. Listings fell off a cliff—just 75 parcels came to market. And in the first 10 days of June? Only 20. It was as if someone yanked the emergency brake on a speeding train, and now everyone’s frozen, waiting to see who blinks first.
I remember sitting at a local café with a woman whose property had burned to the ground. As she stirred her latte, she sighed and said, “I was ready to sell, just to stop the bleeding. But my neighbor keeps saying schools, the library, the stores—they’ll all be rebuilt in a few years. Maybe I’ll get more then.” And there it is: the emotional heart of this stalled market. If you can afford to wait, you wait. But the more people hold out, the longer this limbo lasts.
And it’s not just anecdotal. Data across the Palisades shows that, aside from the Huntington neighborhood (which has seen a relatively mild 10–15% price drop), nearly every other area has taken a 35–40% hit. But many sellers seem to think we've already hit bottom. Spoiler alert: we haven’t.
It’s like walking into a store during a 40% off sale, only to find a few items mysteriously marked just 10% off. You hesitate. You wonder, “Should I wait for a better deal?” That hesitation is exactly what’s stalling this recovery.
So far, just 67 land parcels have sold since the fire. Of those, 20 were bought by individual buyers, 18 by trusts, and 29 by LLCs or corporations. That breakdown is actually reassuring in a way. There was a fear, post-disaster, that predatory developers would swoop in en masse, reshaping the Palisades into something unrecognizable. But that hasn’t happened. The buyers so far are mostly individuals and families—locals, not land barons.
Still, developers are in the mix, and they’re playing a smarter game now. One major factor? Measure ULA, a hefty property tax that’s pushing developers to aim lower. As of now, homes selling between $5.15 million and $10.3 million are taxed at 4%, while anything above $10.3 million gets slammed with a 5.5% levy. Starting July 1, those thresholds will shift slightly higher—but the strategy remains the same: build smaller homes, keep total sale prices under $5.3 million, and dodge the ULA bullet.
I talked to one developer recently—mid-30s, sharp guy—who had just closed on a modest lot. I asked why he didn’t go bigger. He laughed and said, “Why would I throw $10 million into a build just to hand over 5.5% in taxes before I even list it? I’ll take my three $5 million builds, thanks.”
And yet, here’s where things get dicey. My estimate is that only about 30% of the 6,800 burned properties will actually be rebuilt. That’s roughly 2,000 homes. Of those, half will be built by developers. Translation? In 24 to 48 months, the Palisades could see over 1,000 brand-new luxury homes hit the market—many priced between $6 million and $15 million.
Let that number sink in.
Can the local market really absorb 1,000 high-end listings in two years? Honestly? No way. That’s the elephant in the room. That’s the part no one wants to say out loud.
So here’s my point: if you’re a seller, don’t assume you’ve missed the boat—this market hasn’t even bottomed out. If you’re a buyer, don’t expect to stumble into a fire sale either—there’s too much psychological inertia. And if you’re a developer, you’d better start building homes not just for what the market feels like now, but for what it’ll really look like two years down the line.
This isn’t a market for optimists or pessimists. It’s a market for realists.
Because markets, like life, rarely give you clarity when you need it most. You’ve got to learn how to navigate the fog.