As a follow-up to yesterday's post about infill housing and overall urban densities, let's look at some basic math.
The City of Toronto has an estimated population of 3,025,647 (as of June 2023) and a land area of 630 square meters. That means that its average population density is about 4,803 people per km2. Obviously this number will be higher in some locations, and lower in others. But overall, this is the average.
Now let's consider how many people we could actually fit within the existing boundaries of the city (city proper not the metro area) if we were to simply match the average population densities of some other global cities around the world.
Again, what this chart is saying is that if we took the same physical area (Toronto's 630 square meters) and just increased the population density to that of, say, Paris, we would then have a total population of over 13 million people and we'd be housing an additional 10,011,573 humans on the same footprint.
I am not suggesting that this is exactly what should be done. (Though, you all know how much I love Paris.) What I'm suggesting is that calling a place "full" isn't exactly accurate. How would you even measure that? What someone is really saying is that they are content with the status quo in terms of built form and density.
Note: The above population densities were all taken from Wikipedia, except for Toronto's figures, which were taken from here.
There are many ways to describe one of the prevailing urban forms emerging across the Greater Toronto Area. You could call it spiky urbanism. You could call it a collection of peaks and plains. Or -- as it is referred to in this recent article by Alex Bozikovic about "turning the suburb into the city" -- you could call it cruise ship urbanity:
These megaprojects are where Toronto has chosen to cram much of its new growth – “cruise ships of urbanity,” as Mr. Giannone told me, in a sea of houses. As such they provide an opportunity to create citylike density and activity.
What we are talking about is a dichotomous form of urbanism: high-density mixed-use nodes surrounded by low-rise car-oriented communities. And on many levels, this makes a lot of sense, especially if the cruise ship happens to be docked on top of a transit station. This is where density needs to go. If you have a transit station without much density, that should be addressed immediately.
But it also presents a great challenge. If transportation planning is necessarily land use planning, then we are dealing with two very different kinds of land use patterns and, therefore, two very different kinds of mobility demands. You can address this by making the cruise ship as self-sufficient and pleasant as possible, but eventually someone will want or need to get off the ship.
Does that mean they will then need a car?
You don't have this same problem with more consistent forms of urbanism. Consider, for example, cities like Paris and Barcelona. These are dense cities, but more importantly they are, for the most part, uniformly dense. Or at least, uniformly dense enough. Meaning that you can probably apply a more uniform transportation strategy. What works in one part of the city is likely to work in other parts too.
Of course, we could also apply a uniform transportation strategy to our urban cruise ships. Given that they exist in a sea of low-rise houses, we could simply say that each urban cruise ship resident should also have their own parking space (1:1 ratio). The solution: everyone drives! But this, to me, seems like an insane long-term solution.
In my view, the most impactful solution lies not in the ships themselves, but in the seas surrounding them. We need to look holistically at our entire city region and determine what it will take to turn suburb into city. And that likely means a whole host of things, ranging from leveraging the infrastructure we already have (i.e. upzoning around transit stations) to embracing autonomous vehicles.
In the end, I don't think we want cruise ships of urbanity. We need more density, everywhere.
I don't know for exactly how long, but for a very long time people have been trying to solve this real estate problem: "I have a desire to own a home, or multiple homes, around the world. However, I don't know how often I'd actually use it/them, and this desire is both expensive and a pain in the ass."
And so unless you have a lot of money and can make the pain in the ass part go away, there seems to exist an ongoing need to make fulfilling this desire both cheaper and easier. Perhaps the most common ways are through a timeshare property or through some kind of fractional ownership structure, where you own a share of a property.
Some companies are even "tokenizing" this second structure on blockchains. I have read about one company that is buying vacation homes and then issuing 365 corresponding tokens. Each token represents 1 day of occupancy (and actual title ownership apparently). In theory this sounds kind of neat, but you're also buying a second home with potentially 364 other strangers.
So here's another approach that I just learned about. The UK-based company, August, has devised a model that works like this:
August starts with "homeowner curation." Meaning, they start by vetting homeowners to make sure that they're not weird or something.
Once they have a suitable collection of homeowners, August sets up a new real estate entity that all of the homeowners must then fund equally.
This entity, by way of August, goes out and buys 5 properties, and each homeowner receives an equal share of the ownership. (Typically, they target 16-21 groups per entity.)
August renovates the 5 properties, gets them ready for occupancy, and then manages them on ongoing basis. This includes bookings.
Finally, each homeowner gets an average of 8-10 weeks per year across all of their homes.
In terms of the homes themselves, their pied-à-terre collection includes homes in Paris, Rome, Cannes, Barcelona, and London. They are typically between 70-100 square meters with 2 bedrooms and 1-2 bathrooms. And the average price/value is supposedly around €1,250,000 (post-renovation?), with the entry price of a share starting at €340,000.
I'm not sure if this share figure is based on 21 homeowners, but if it is, then that's €7,140,000 of equity being raised in order to buy somewhere around €6,250,000 of real estate. Is the spread their margin for setting this all up? There's also an annual fee per owner (€8,600), which presumably covers operating costs and the ongoing management of the properties.
A model like this naturally provokes a lot of questions. What happens if somebody wants to sell? Does the next buyer need to be similarly vetted for overall weirdness? And how liquid is 1/21st of a 5-property apartment portfolio? I don't know these answers, but intuitively these shares have got to be less liquid than a 100% sale.
However, as a solution to the problem of "I have a desire to own homes across Europe but I'm not quite rich enough to make it truly carefree", this seems like a pretty clever solution.