This is an oversimplification that won't apply to all markets, but typically the decision tree for urban parking looks something like this:
Do I need to build parking?
If no, great. That's ideal!
If yes, how many levels of below-grade will I need?
If below-grade parking doesn't work because it's either too expensive or because the soil is bad, try above-grade parking.
And if above grade, how can I "wrap it" with occupiable space or, at the very least, treat it in such a way that it doesn't look ugly and the city doesn't get mad at me?
What I'm getting at with this is that above-grade parking is generally frowned upon. It is done in lots of places, like in Miami where you can't go underground, but if you ask your average urbanist they will probably tell you that above-grade parking is ugly and that said ugliness should be mitigated to the fullest extent possible.
But here's a counter argument. Let's assume that we believe any one of the following:
We should design new buildings to be adaptable (i.e. easily convertible to other uses in the future)
We should design and build in a way that reduces carbon to a minimum
Lower construction costs are good for end-users of space
In the future, people will be less, as opposed to more, reliant on privately owned cars
In this case, the ideal solution is actually "unwrapped" above-grade parking. It's less intensive to build, and both below-grade parking and wrapped above-grade parking result in large windowless spaces with very little utility other than for storing inanimate objects. Your options are parking, self-storage, and maybe a large gym for people who don't like natural light.
Judging by the above poll, which was still in progress at the time of writing this post, this is not how most people think about urban parking. But I think it's time we start changing the discussion.
Well sort of.
Previously leased to Macmillan Publishers for the last 60 years, the building has been sitting vacant since 2019 and supposedly needs something like $100 million in CapEx to make it leasable again. Four of the five current owners have wanted to renovate it, but the fifth kept blocking it, and so the other partners sued for a "partition auction."
That auction happened last week, and even though the four owners were really trying to lock down the 25% share that they didn't own, the auction was won by an outsider at $190 million. That said, a 10% deposit was to be due the following day and, apparently, that never happened. So maybe it hasn't sold yet. But whatever, it's still interesting to think about its purchase price.
According to Wikipedia, the Flatiron Building is 255,000 square feet. So at $190 million, the building was "purchased" for $745 per foot. Assuming that it needs another $100 million, that's another $392 psf, for a total of $1,137 psf.
What I am curious about now is how this compares to other office buildings in midtown Manhattan. Is there any sort of premium for being the Flatiron Building? And what would space in this building lease for following a renovation? i.e. What cap rate is the market demanding right now for an empty office building needing $100 million in renovations? Or, is the play to convert to residential?
I don't know enough about the real estate market in midtown Manhattan to answer these questions with any sort of precision, but I'm hoping some of you do and that you'll leave a comment below.
The most boring part of constructing a high-rise, like One Delisle, has got to be installing the shoring piles. Sure there are big rigs moving about on site but, for the most part, there's almost no visible progress. That is, until you start excavating. Then you get to see said piles and you also end up with a big hole, which is something.
Thankfully shoring works are now complete at One Delisle and we have started on the big hole part (see above photo from our rooftop cam). The next major milestone will be our "bottoming out," and that's when the tower crane will go up and our massive raft slab foundation will get poured. Visible progress is certainly more fun.