What Would You Do With £100 Million? A Luxury Wishlist, Just For Fun

Picture this: you’re queuing at the post office, palms damp with anticipation, when your name suddenly blitzes red across the screen—£100 million has landed in your account.

If I’m honest, I’ve even daydreamed about waking to such a windfall with a winning Powerball ticket, although that was purely hypothetical. No-holds-barred, pure fantasy spending—so, where would I even begin?

IMAGE: UNSPLASH

A Mansion Fit For Royal Gossip

First off, I’d track down an Edwardian pile in Kensington or perhaps a minimalist new-build on Chelsea Harbour. According to JamesEdition, the average listing price for a US luxury home is $1,3 million—hardly chump change, but a tiny slice of eight figures.

By comparison, the average UK house price sits around £288,000 as of May 2024. I’d go full tilt: hand-carved marble staircases, secret garden terraces that smell of lavender in June, and an underground wellness suite complete with a Hammam and ice plunge—I’ve always fancied the polar bear challenge.

Oh, and a subterranean library stacked with 20,000 books spanning every era—because, really, you never know when you’ll need a midnight escape. Would that feel over-the-top? Almost certainly. Would I care? Not one jot.

Seven-Figure Supercar Stables

Next up, the cars. A bespoke Bugatti Chiron for raw adrenaline; a classic Aston Martin DB5 for suave Sunday drives; and several Porsche 911s for sneaky weekday runs through the Cotswolds.

On weekdays, I’d book Silverstone for track days—impromptu doughnut sessions are mandatory, right? Insurance alone might rival a small mortgage, with servicing bills enough to make your eyes water, but I’d consider it a therapeutic expense.

Isolated Island Hideaway

Sometimes, silence is the ultimate luxury. I’ve read about private islands changing hands for a few million pounds in the Hebrides; imagine snapping one up, building a timber lodge, and hosting “castaway” weekends with mates who actually RSVP.

I’d slip on scuba gear, hire a couple of marine biologists for day trips, and maybe release a message-in-a-bottle art project—pure escapism with a sprinkle of eccentricity.

Let’s Not Forget The Warm Fuzzies

I’d earmark at least £5 million for community projects—perhaps refurbishing our local arts centre and underwriting an independent film festival, alongside sponsoring mental health programmes in the region. A friend of mine launched a free café in Sheffield where every latte comes with a poetry reading; scaling that up feels like the perfect blend of culture and care.

Jet-Setter Shenanigans

Weekends would blur into a symphony of contrails: London to Nice for dawn croissants, then off to Ibiza for an afternoon DJ set, topping off with sushi at midnight.

Chartering a 50-metre superyacht might ring in at around £500,000 a week (ouch), but helipad landings, deep-sea fishing at sunrise, and cocktails under the stars? Priceless. I’d nickname the cabin crew “Team Dreamcatcher” and demand playlists ranging from Sea Shanties to synthwave—because why not?

There you have it: my half-baked, entirely indulgent blueprint for spending £100 million.

What would top your Wishlist? A subterranean bowling alley? A virtual-reality arcade the size of a football pitch? Tag that mates who’d insist on crashing your island hideaway and let the daydreams unfold.