As we have talked about many times before, the best answer to this question is that it's worth whatever money is left in your pro forma once you've accounted for everything else. This is what is called the "residual claimant" in a development model. And it means you start with your revenue, you deduct all project costs, including whatever profit you and your investors need to make in order to take on the risk of the development, and then whatever is left can go to pay for the land.

This is the most prudent way to value development land; but of course, in practice, it doesn't always work this way. In a bull market, the correct answer to my question might be, "whatever most market participants are willing to pay." And sometimes/oftentimes, this number will be greater than what your model is telling you, meaning you'll need to be more aggressive on your assumptions if you too want to participate. (Not development advice.)

Given that determining the value of land starts with revenue, one way to do a very crude gut check is to look at the relationship between land cost and revenue. This is sometimes called a land-to-revenue ratio. And historically, for new condominiums in Toronto, you wanted a ratio that was no greater than 10%. Meaning, if the most you could sell condominiums for was $1,000 psf, then the most you could afford to pay for land was $100 per buildable square foot.

However, this is, again, a very crude rule of thumb. I would say that it's only really interesting to look at this after the fact. Because in reality, things never work this cleanly. For one thing, there is always a cost floor. Don't, for example, think you can buy land in Toronto for $80 pbsf and sell condominiums for $800 psf, because this will not be enough to cover all of your costs. You will lose money.

Secondly, there are countless variables that have a huge impact on the value of development land. Things like a high required parking ratio, development charges and other city fees, inclusionary zoning, and so on. All of these items are real costs in a development model, and so they will need to be paid for somehow.

Typically this happens by way of higher revenues (in a rising market), a lower land cost (in a sinking market), or some combination of the two. But in all of these cases, it means your land-to-revenue ratio must come down to maintain project feasibility. This is why suburban development sites typically have a lower ratio -- too much loss-leading parking, among other things.

Of course, there are also instances where the correct answer could be a land-to-revenue ratio approaching zero, or even a negative number. In this latter case, it means your projected revenues aren't enough to cover all of your other costs, excluding land. For anyone to build, they will require some form of subsidy. And this is basically the case with every affordable housing project. They don't pencil on their own. (For a concrete example of this, look to the US and their Low-Income Housing Tax Credits.)

So once again, the moral of this story is that the best way to think about the value of development land is to think of it as "whatever money is left in the pro forma once you've accounted for everything else." Because sometimes there will be money there, and sometimes there won't be.

Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash

Anyone who has ever worked on a development pro forma will know that the process generally works like this: You start with a bunch of assumptions. You assemble those assumptions in a way that will allow you to determine if the project in question is feasible. And then, you realize that almost everything is more costly than you initially thought and that the project may not actually work. Oh shit.

In fact, a sure-fire way to know that you're on the right track is if the numbers sort of don't work. If the returns look too good to be true, they almost certainly are and you're likely missing something big and meaningful. As we have talked about before on this blog, development happens on the margin. That means that you have to work at it. You have to be creative. And often you have to find ways to increase revenues and cut costs.

The common way to find money is through something known as value engineering, which is just a fancy way of saying, "I need to cut costs, so let's see what I can tolerate losing from this project." That's generally how it works. And we do it on every project. You're trying to find high-cost items with relatively low perceived value.

This process often gets a lot of criticism because people view it as a distasteful cheapening of a project. But the reality is that it is usually an important part of maintaining project feasibility. You may really want to use that fancy material you can only get from Switzerland, but maybe development charges were just increased and now you need to offset those new costs by finding savings somewhere else.

This isn't a perfect analogy, but imagine you were shopping for a new car. You might start out by wanting the fully-loaded version, but then you see the price and realize you can't afford it. So you decide to start trimming features and add-ons until you get to a place where you feel more comfortable. I would imagine this happens with cars, and I'm not sure it's right to point to that person after and say, "oh my god, I can't believe you cheaped out and didn't buy the fully-loaded version."

At the same time, I think it would be perfectly reasonable to argue that you don't need to spend a lot of money to (1) care deeply about the work that you do and (2) have taste. You can't fight the economic realities of the world, but you can care and you can be creative. And I don't think it's too much to advocate for these things.

This Twitter thread by Richard Wittstock of Domus Homes (developer out in Vancouver) is a timely follow-on to yesterday's post about housing supply, land-use regulations, and specific policies such as inclusionary zoning. What Richard clearly describes in his thread is the economic impact of a Community Amenity Contribution (CAC) that requires developers to provide 20% social housing.

The thread will walk you through all of the specific numbers, but I think there are three important takeaways:

1. Everything has a cost. It is entirely disingenuous for anyone to refer to inclusionary zoning or other similar policies as a mechanism for "no-cost" affordable housing. Even if you believe it is the right public policy approach, there is still a cost. Social housing doesn't just appear out of thin air.

2. In Richard's thread, the remaining market rate condominiums end up needing to be sold for $1,750 psf in order for the entire project to pencil. This is a significant number. But in this case, it is a result of these homes needing to shoulder the cost of the social housing. It is basically saying "housing is too expensive, so let's make it more expensive so that we can use some of the incremental proceeds to finance less expensive housing."

3. If the math doesn't work, developers will not build new housing.

P.S. Thank you Volodya Gusak for pointing out Richard's thread to me.

As we have talked about many times before, the best answer to this question is that it's worth whatever money is left in your pro forma once you've accounted for everything else. This is what is called the "residual claimant" in a development model. And it means you start with your revenue, you deduct all project costs, including whatever profit you and your investors need to make in order to take on the risk of the development, and then whatever is left can go to pay for the land.

This is the most prudent way to value development land; but of course, in practice, it doesn't always work this way. In a bull market, the correct answer to my question might be, "whatever most market participants are willing to pay." And sometimes/oftentimes, this number will be greater than what your model is telling you, meaning you'll need to be more aggressive on your assumptions if you too want to participate. (Not development advice.)

Given that determining the value of land starts with revenue, one way to do a very crude gut check is to look at the relationship between land cost and revenue. This is sometimes called a land-to-revenue ratio. And historically, for new condominiums in Toronto, you wanted a ratio that was no greater than 10%. Meaning, if the most you could sell condominiums for was $1,000 psf, then the most you could afford to pay for land was $100 per buildable square foot.

However, this is, again, a very crude rule of thumb. I would say that it's only really interesting to look at this after the fact. Because in reality, things never work this cleanly. For one thing, there is always a cost floor. Don't, for example, think you can buy land in Toronto for $80 pbsf and sell condominiums for $800 psf, because this will not be enough to cover all of your costs. You will lose money.

Secondly, there are countless variables that have a huge impact on the value of development land. Things like a high required parking ratio, development charges and other city fees, inclusionary zoning, and so on. All of these items are real costs in a development model, and so they will need to be paid for somehow.

Typically this happens by way of higher revenues (in a rising market), a lower land cost (in a sinking market), or some combination of the two. But in all of these cases, it means your land-to-revenue ratio must come down to maintain project feasibility. This is why suburban development sites typically have a lower ratio -- too much loss-leading parking, among other things.

Of course, there are also instances where the correct answer could be a land-to-revenue ratio approaching zero, or even a negative number. In this latter case, it means your projected revenues aren't enough to cover all of your other costs, excluding land. For anyone to build, they will require some form of subsidy. And this is basically the case with every affordable housing project. They don't pencil on their own. (For a concrete example of this, look to the US and their Low-Income Housing Tax Credits.)

So once again, the moral of this story is that the best way to think about the value of development land is to think of it as "whatever money is left in the pro forma once you've accounted for everything else." Because sometimes there will be money there, and sometimes there won't be.

Photo by Jannes Glas on Unsplash

Anyone who has ever worked on a development pro forma will know that the process generally works like this: You start with a bunch of assumptions. You assemble those assumptions in a way that will allow you to determine if the project in question is feasible. And then, you realize that almost everything is more costly than you initially thought and that the project may not actually work. Oh shit.

In fact, a sure-fire way to know that you're on the right track is if the numbers sort of don't work. If the returns look too good to be true, they almost certainly are and you're likely missing something big and meaningful. As we have talked about before on this blog, development happens on the margin. That means that you have to work at it. You have to be creative. And often you have to find ways to increase revenues and cut costs.

The common way to find money is through something known as value engineering, which is just a fancy way of saying, "I need to cut costs, so let's see what I can tolerate losing from this project." That's generally how it works. And we do it on every project. You're trying to find high-cost items with relatively low perceived value.

This process often gets a lot of criticism because people view it as a distasteful cheapening of a project. But the reality is that it is usually an important part of maintaining project feasibility. You may really want to use that fancy material you can only get from Switzerland, but maybe development charges were just increased and now you need to offset those new costs by finding savings somewhere else.

This isn't a perfect analogy, but imagine you were shopping for a new car. You might start out by wanting the fully-loaded version, but then you see the price and realize you can't afford it. So you decide to start trimming features and add-ons until you get to a place where you feel more comfortable. I would imagine this happens with cars, and I'm not sure it's right to point to that person after and say, "oh my god, I can't believe you cheaped out and didn't buy the fully-loaded version."

At the same time, I think it would be perfectly reasonable to argue that you don't need to spend a lot of money to (1) care deeply about the work that you do and (2) have taste. You can't fight the economic realities of the world, but you can care and you can be creative. And I don't think it's too much to advocate for these things.

This Twitter thread by Richard Wittstock of Domus Homes (developer out in Vancouver) is a timely follow-on to yesterday's post about housing supply, land-use regulations, and specific policies such as inclusionary zoning. What Richard clearly describes in his thread is the economic impact of a Community Amenity Contribution (CAC) that requires developers to provide 20% social housing.

The thread will walk you through all of the specific numbers, but I think there are three important takeaways:

1. Everything has a cost. It is entirely disingenuous for anyone to refer to inclusionary zoning or other similar policies as a mechanism for "no-cost" affordable housing. Even if you believe it is the right public policy approach, there is still a cost. Social housing doesn't just appear out of thin air.

2. In Richard's thread, the remaining market rate condominiums end up needing to be sold for $1,750 psf in order for the entire project to pencil. This is a significant number. But in this case, it is a result of these homes needing to shoulder the cost of the social housing. It is basically saying "housing is too expensive, so let's make it more expensive so that we can use some of the incremental proceeds to finance less expensive housing."

3. If the math doesn't work, developers will not build new housing.

P.S. Thank you Volodya Gusak for pointing out Richard's thread to me.