‘RHONY' star Erin Dana Lichy can now call this ‘dream' NYC townhouse her home
In a video posted to Instagram, the real estate broker, designer and mezcal entrepreneur offered a key-jingling glimpse into what she called her 'dream townhouse.'
The home in question is a five-story, 20-foot-wide spread on West End Avenue, last listed for $8.25 million and steeped in Manhattan grandeur — with a garden-level rental unit to boot.
12 Erin Dana Lichy appears to have landed a new Upper West Side townhouse, teasing the move on Instagram with a video captioned 'POV: you're moving into your dream townhouse.'
Erin Lichy/Instagram
12 The nearly 7,000-square-foot home features original 19th-century architectural details, a rental unit on the garden level and is just minutes from Zabar's.
Compass
'I literally can't believe it,' she wrote in the Instagram caption after moving in last week.
12 The five-story, seven-bedroom mansion was last listed for $8.25 million and is located on a historic stretch of West End Avenue.
Compass
12 The show's cast pictured: (from left) Racquel Chevremont, Sai De Silva, Jessel Taank, Jenna Lyons, Erin Lichy, Brynn Whitfield, Ubah Hassan.
Danielle Levitt/Bravo via Getty Images
Listing agent Michael Bushkanets of Compass, a friend of Lichy's who was name-checked in her post, confirmed to Curbed that the home is located on a landmarked block and that 'the last owners had updated it after buying it seven or eight years ago.'
Designed by the late-19th-century architecture firm Lamb & Rich — whose credits include Sagamore Hill, Teddy Roosevelt's Long Island estate — the nearly 7,000-square-foot property retains period details including wood paneling, coffered ceilings, a rounded foyer wall and a wide central staircase.
Lichy and her husband, who recently welcomed their fourth child, 'were looking for their next long-term residence and something they could really put their mark on,' Bushkanets told the outlet. 'Not just a home for her kids but a showplace.'
12 While it's unclear if Lichy and her husband bought or leased the home, public records show no recent sale.
Compass
12 Bushkanets described the deal as 'not a standard rental and not a standard sale,' suggesting a custom arrangement.
Compass
12 Lichy, a real estate broker, designer, and house flipper who recently welcomed her fourth child, may be positioning the home as both a family residence and a showcase — possibly in anticipation of a 'RHONY' cast shake-up.
Compass
12 A study.
Compass
Despite the apparent fit, it remains unclear whether the couple purchased the property outright.
Public records do not reflect a recent sale, and Bushkanets would only describe the transaction as 'not a standard rental and not a standard sale but something in between.' He added, 'It took months of back and forth between the parties.'
Lichy and her husband have previously rented their residences, including the Tribeca duplex made famous on 'RHONY' and another Upper West Side apartment where they had been living.
Whether Lichy plans to make the townhouse her new filming location — or perhaps a set for a post-Housewives era — remains to be seen.
The Post has reached out to her reps for comment.
12 One of seven bedrooms.
Compass
12 A second bedroom.
Compass
12 A third bedroom.
Compass
12 The outdoor space.
Compass
The home holds seven bedrooms, 7.5 baths and is a short walk to the famed Zabar's market.
It also boasts a full basement, a cellar, three working fireplaces, three laundry systems and a private garden, according to the previous listing.
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In 2018, a Sherpa named Dawa Yangzum was sponsored by The North Face, albeit for guiding; she was the first Nepali woman to earn a certification from the International Federation of Mountain Guides Associations. But the trend was turbocharged in 2019, when a Nepali British former special forces soldier, Nirmal 'Nims' Purja, climbed the 14 peaks in record time, using helicopters, bottled oxygen, and fixed ropes to accomplish in six months what had previously taken Korean climber Kim Chang-Ho nearly eight years to do (though Kim climbed without supplemental oxygen and kayaked and cycled to Everest Base Camp). Nims, who is not Sherpa, brought handheld cameras and broadcast his journey on Instagram, capturing footage that became a hit 2021 Netflix documentary. He leveraged his exploits to start his own guiding business and sign deals with Red Bull, Nike, and Bremont watches, and though his career is now plagued by accusations of sexual misconduct (which he's denied), he put the world on notice that when Nepalis didn't have to serve clients, they could be recognized as world-class climbers in their own right. (Meet the Sherpa bringing Wi-Fi to Everest.) Nima comes of age in these flush times, blessed with not just family money but also role models and next-level ambitions. Growing up in Kathmandu, Nima began telling his father in early adolescence that he wanted to become a professional athlete. 'The plan was always to do something big in life,' Nima said. 'It was always the plan.' Nima poses with Kami Rita Sherpa after the latter's 29th summit of Everest. Photograph by Manish Maharjan The lead-up to a major objective tends to be an ascetic time for athletes, when they retreat from the world and prepare. But Nima is trying to capitalize on his moment, and he kept a frenetic schedule in the few days before Manaslu, attending to small-time obligations ranging from a cricket game for the Nepal Premier League to an interview for an American friend's YouTube channel and an elaborate 20-person lunch with Jane Goodall. Nima's manager at the time, Asad Abid, was frustrated. He thought Nima was sinking too much time, for free, into engagements that didn't move him toward his ultimate goal, which is to get paid to climb by brands. Some companies have offered free gear, Abid said, 'but nobody's talking money.' The outdoor industry is dominated by Western brands, and Sherpas face racial and language differences that can make it difficult to secure endorsements. They also have to contend with a cultural and vocational challenge. 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Climbing purists said that Nims's feat was primarily one of logistics and marketing—he achieved a speed record he essentially invented, one utilizing every accoutrement from helicopters to bottled oxygen—yet he nonetheless circumvented the traditional path to stardom. Nima, too, seems to be betting on this model of building his brand alongside his bona fides. 'Climbing both [Everest and Lhotse] on the same day,' he wrote in April 2024 on Instagram, 'is almost unheard of, and I found myself doing it as the mountain spirits guided me.' Still, storytelling can go only so far. Nims's record was paradigm shifting, and the long process through which Dawa Yangzum obtained her IFMGA certification is widely respected in climbing. Nima may be able to find his own path to professional climbing. But if you want to climb for a brand like The North Face, Anker says, you have to 'climb hard.' (You can still climb Mount Everest. Here's how to do it responsibly.) As with many prodigies, it's hard to tell how much of Nima's ambition is innate versus inherited, the result of some subtle parental prodding. As Tashi drove Nima and me around Kathmandu in his leather-lined SUV one afternoon, the two took turns telling Nima's origin story, passing the ball to one another smoothly in the front seats. Tashi's support of Nima has been tireless and unconditional. When Nima wanted to become a professional soccer player, Tashi tried to link him up with an elite coach. When that fizzled, he took his son to the climbing gym. When Nima wanted to become a photographer, he took him trekking to shoot photos. Tashi, who at 39 wore thick-framed black glasses and a stylish fade, said, 'I bought, like, a Sony A7?' 'Sony A7, yeah,' Nima agreed with a chuckle, from the passenger seat. 'A Sony A7 for him, and several lenses,' Tashi continued. 'Then I took him to Kongma La Pass, right?' This is a multiday trek in Nepal. 'Just the two of us, yeah.' 'Just him and me,' Tashi agreed. 'I saw that he's very strong.' It was on this trek, when Nima was 15, that Tashi suggested it might be 'interesting,' as Nima recalled it, for him to climb the 14 peaks as a teenager. Nima went home and did his research, then told his dad, Let's do it. The father's idea had become the son's. Initially, the 14-peaks project was a creative, mostly selfish endeavor: Inspired by Asian American adventure photographer and National Geographic Explorer Jimmy Chin, Nima wanted to produce a documentary. But on his first climb, Manaslu, in September 2022, he saw something surprising. He never knew much about the family business, and had always assumed his father's clients must be elite-level athletes to climb big mountains. Now he saw that in fact, many of them were average, even slow. Meanwhile Sherpas outpaced everybody and carried their loads. Seeing their raw talent, he began to wonder why there was no world-famous Sherpa climber today. Thanks to his father's connections, Nima (right) never had to make a living hauling gear and supplies on the steep trails leading to the high peaks. Photograph by Krystle Wright His motivation was galvanized, however, on his first trip to Shishapangma, a year before he'd ultimately summit. It was October 7, 2023, and Nima was at Base Camp. A Seven Summit Sherpa named Tenjen 'Lama' Sherpa, whom Nima had grown close to, was also on the mountain, assisting climber Gina Rzucidlo as she attempted to become the first American woman to summit the 14 peaks. Another American, Anna Gutu, was also targeting her 14th peak the same day. On their summit push, Gutu and her partner were killed in an avalanche. Lama and Rzucidlo were just below the summit, and Nima radioed to advise that they descend. But Rzucidlo wanted to continue, and shortly after, a second avalanche claimed both her and Lama's lives. Nima was in shock. Lama had come to feel like one of his guardian angels on the mountain. Afterward, he was depressed for months. 'I just felt very demotivated,' he said. 'Not just in climbing. In life itself.' It was during this time that he began to use the hashtag 'sherpapower.' He realized he wanted to be a voice for the Sherpa community. He wanted his people to feel that their lives had value beyond the measure of their wages. 'Let's say they make $4,000 a summit,' he said. 'I don't know if there's any job where you get paid this and it's so risky.' Sherpas 'literally feel' for their clients, he told me pointedly, sacrificing their own safety and even lives to help them summit. This kind of courage and loyalty, he said, 'is not something money can buy.' They deserved for their stories to be told, he thought—to be honored like heroes, not just paid like help. Over the years, Tashi has witnessed the death of many Sherpas like Lama, which is why he always told his own son that if he were to climb, he'd climb as an athlete, not a guide. If Nima was going to risk it all, he would risk it for his own dreams. Nima's climbing was nonetheless extremely stressful for Tashi and his wife, Leema. Tashi says he hid his worry—he didn't want to affect Nima's decision-making in the mountains—but behind the scenes he spun a protective web. He assigned one of his ace guides, Pasang Nurbu Sherpa, as Nima's climbing partner; he kept helicopters on standby while they climbed; he cut clients deals to beef up the man power on Nima's expeditions. On summit days, he didn't sleep, refreshing Nima's GPS tracker every 10 minutes. Whenever Tashi thought about calling his son back, he reminded himself, We are on a mission. (That's the word he uses, 'we.') 'I want to make him a super climber, super athlete,' he said. 'So I manage my emotions.' Tashi also wanted to shield Nima from another fraught aspect of the guiding business. Especially in its early years, Seven Summit was criticized for its safety record, and some said the company brought dangerously inexperienced guides and climbers onto the mountains. (The brothers acknowledged some growing pains but said they recruited many new Sherpas to the industry who are now trained and experienced, and train clients on lower peaks before they climb eight-thousanders.) In channeling Nima toward a different path, Tashi hoped to keep his son from the controversy that's dogged him and his family. 'He can have another type of job and professionalism as an athlete,' he said. Of course, Tashi could have encouraged his son to pursue a profession outside of climbing, as many Sherpas have urged their children to do. Any 8,000-meter peak can kill you, and the dangers are magnified in the winter, when temperatures plummet and avalanche risk increases. Going in alpine style removes the added security of fixed lines and bottled oxygen. The first time Moro attempted a winter alpine-style 8,000-meter ascent, an avalanche killed both his climbing partners. I asked Tashi what he'd say to parents who wonder how he can not only let his son do something so dangerous but also fund it. 'I think'—he said, pausing thoughtfully—'creating history is not normal. It's not simple.' Abid, Nima's former manager, offered his theory. 'I think Tashi is living vicariously through Nima,' he said. But when you're a parent whose life story is entangled within a generations-long struggle for equality, your children may serve as a proxy for more than your own unrealized ambitions. Tashi has seen so many strong Sherpa boys working for the glory of others, he told me, so much of his people's talent hired away. He always wanted to see one of those young athletes climb unencumbered. 'This is a totally different opportunity for the Sherpa community,' he said, 'and I really want to send my son in this way.' Annapurna was the first of all the eight-thousanders to be climbed, but it's also one of the deadliest— for every three climbers who stand on the summit, one will die trying to get there. Nima reached the peak in the spring of 2024 without the use of supplemental oxygen. Photograph by Manish Maharjan In Kathmandu in December, you can be seduced into believing winter won't kill you. The day that Nima left for his climb was like all the other days before it: sunny and mild, the smog-filled sky a dingy blue. I boarded an orange Heli Everest chopper with Nima, Moro, and Polish filmmaker Oswald Rodrigo Pereira, 40, their climbing partner. The plan was to fly into the Everest valley and trek five days to the Base Camp of Ama Dablam, a technical, 6,812-meter peak known as the Matterhorn of the Himalaya, where I'd catch a heli ride back. They'd climb Ama Dablam to acclimatize, then fly out to the Manaslu valley. The helicopter soared over green hills rippled with farming terraces, carved from the mountain like stadium steps. Snowcapped peaks lined the horizon, each big and beautiful enough to anchor a national park on its own. This was awe-inspiring stuff for most people, but for Nima, it was a commute. He'd fallen asleep. During the past few days in Kathmandu, I'd witnessed the muscle of Seven Summit firsthand. Everywhere I went, I bumped into smiling, clean-faced young men wearing company puffies and ball caps. Nima was cocooned within this universe, chauffeured and flanked constantly by the Sherpas in his father's employ. Does Nima fully understand what achieving his dream would require, from the hard work to the risktaking it would demand? He says he does, but for all his precociousness, here was an 18-year-old who still compared climbing to the epic adventures out of his favorite fantasy books. 'Winter expedition is like Lord of the Rings,' he said with exuberance, or 'When you read Harry Potter, it makes you excited. I feel like I'm in that life right now.' In both these stories, a hero—a chosen one—goes on a quest to save the people he loves. Harry Potter is destined by prophecy to save wizardkind; Frodo carries the Ring to save Middle Earth. Nima, too, sees himself as a messenger for his community. 'I think at the young age that he is, he already has a big burden on him, that he also imposes on himself,' Pereira later told me. In the helicopter, Nima woke up. We were wearing soundproof headsets, so he used his iPhone camera to show me Everest, zooming in on the snow-covered pyramid. Then he opened his notepad and typed me a message: 'The prince returns to the mountains.' Nima's first noncommercial expedition began smoothly, with days of dry weather on Ama Dablam. Nima, Moro, and Pereira enjoyed two easy rotations—acclimatization trips—up to Camps I and II. But the night before their summit bid, it snowed. With the rocks now slick, the climbers had to brace more often against fixed ropes, and on the second day, Nima's hands and forearms began to cramp. The trio decided to turn around several hundred feet below the summit and move on to Manaslu with less acclimatization than they'd hoped. After they reached Manaslu Base Camp a week and a half later, it snowed again. Then the forecast deteriorated further: three straight weeks of winds projected at over 90 miles an hour, creating dangerous climbing conditions. If they waited, they'd lose what acclimatization they had. After a week at Base Camp, they canceled the expedition. Nima and Moro immediately planned another attempt on Manaslu next winter. 'I felt like this was the best expedition of my life,' Nima told me. The extreme conditions exhilarated him, and compared to commercial expeditions, 'everything was in our hands.' Nima's greatest challenge now may be to stay focused on climbing. After Manaslu, he once again has a lot going on. He recently signed a book deal and announced that he's a climate influencer for the United Nations Development Programme in Nepal. In the spring he went to Everest Base Camp, but not to climb—he was helping his dad manage logistics, sitting for interviews with an American news crew, and assisting a company that was experimentally using drones to haul trash off the mountain. He'd also incorporated a company of his own, to make souvenirs from all that trash. He was training for Manaslu, he told me, but he was vague about how much, saying that he was trail running and strength training but didn't track his workouts. It remains to be seen if Nima will be the breakthrough athlete he wants to be. He has his doubters. His privilege is a source of ire among some in his own community, and several people I interviewed wanted me to know that Nepal has many talented young climbers today, not just Nima—climbers who would have his profile if they had his opportunities. But Nima believes that whether he achieves his goal or not, he's done something for his community already. (When climbing the world's tallest mountains, what counts as cheating?) On our trek's fourth day, I asked him what he thought of the debate about his climbing style. The sun was sinking below the mountains, and we were in a chilly room of a rustic lodge in the Sherpa village of Deboche. Was he aware that some people dismissed climbing 8,000-meter peaks as he did, with oxygen and fixed lines and Sherpa support? That people suggested that, in the eyes of 'real climbers,' he had yet to achieve much? Nima was sitting in a chair with his arms crossed. He didn't even pause. He said he didn't think those criticisms applied to him, then laughed. If he was a grown man making a big deal out of his accomplishments, they might have a point. 'But I'm just 16, 17 years old, just figuring it out,' he said, reminding me how young he was when he started climbing in the high peaks, so give him a break. Nima knows that what he did was impressive at his age. He understands that the story of Sherpas in the past 15 years has been one of the power of role-modeling, of being able to see heroes made in your own image and then daring to imagine yourself surpassing them. He believes he moved the right people. 'If I was someone else and I saw an 18-year-old did this,' he said, 'I'd be inspired.' A version of this story will appear in the November 2025 issue of National Geographic magazine.
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- Cosmopolitan
Prince Harry finally speaks out on Prince Andrew physical fight rumour
Another day, another report of a royal family rift – only this time, the rumours extend to a physical fight. According to a new biography on Prince Andrew, he and Prince Harry apparently had a physical fight at one point over comments made concerning Meghan Markle. Prince Andrew stepped back from public life after his disastrous Newsnight interview in 2019, which centred on his friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. The biography, Entitled: The Rise and Fall of the House of York by Andrew Lowni, and a Daily Mail article, allege that Prince Harry and Prince Andrew fell out at a family gathering after Andrew described Meghan as an 'opportunist' and said Harry's relationship with her would not last. In response, "punches were thrown" reportedly leaving Andrew with a bloody nose. Now, a spokesperson for Prince Harry has stepped in to clear up – and firmly deny – this particular round of rumours. According to PEOPLE, Harry's rep said, "I can confirm neither of those things are true. Prince Harry and Prince Andrew have never had a physical fight, nor did Prince Andrew ever make those comments about the Duchess of Sussex to Prince Harry." They added, "Such are the gross inaccuracies, damaging and defamatory remarks made in the Daily Mail's story, I can confirm a legal letter from Prince Harry's counsel has been sent to the Mail." Jennifer Savin is Cosmopolitan UK's multiple award-winning Features Editor, who was crowned Digital Journalist of the Year for her work tackling the issues most important to young women. She regularly covers breaking news, cultural trends, health, the royals and more, using her esteemed connections to access the best experts along the way. She's grilled everyone from high-profile politicians to A-list celebrities, and has sensitively interviewed hundreds of people about their real life stories. In addition to this, Jennifer is widely known for her own undercover investigations and campaign work, which includes successfully petitioning the government for change around topics like abortion rights and image-based sexual abuse. Jennifer is also a published author, documentary consultant (helping to create BBC's Deepfake Porn: Could You Be Next?) and a patron for Y.E.S. (a youth services charity). Alongside Cosmopolitan, Jennifer has written for The Times, Women's Health, ELLE and numerous other publications, appeared on podcasts, and spoken on (and hosted) panels for the Women of the World Festival, the University of Manchester and more. In her spare time, Jennifer is a big fan of lipstick, leopard print and over-ordering at dinner. Follow Jennifer on Instagram, X or LinkedIn.
