Our team has been spending a lot of time underwriting sites that would fit within the City of Toronto's new Major Streets Study. The last time I checked these policies were still under appeal, but the expectation is that they will eventually come into force and start encouraging small-scale apartments up to 6-storeys on all "Major Streets" across the city. This is meaningful progress for our city, and we're excited to be working on projects in this space.

At face value, 6 storeys on all major streets sounds like every great European city you've ever been to. But after studying countless sites, what I will say is that these policies are not designed to recreate Paris or Barcelona or Berlin. Instead, they are intended to be deferential to single-family houses. You see this in the required setbacks and in the maximum building depth, among other things. We all know why this is the case, and it was probably needed as a first step, but I think it's important to point out this subtlety.

Because there are at least two effects to this: one, the end future state will not be a uniform urban street wall, like what you'd find in Europe. That is not the goal of the current policies. And two, it unnecessarily makes the smallest sites more challenging to develop. That's a real shame, because more granularity is often a positive thing for cities. So we still have work to do. But I'm optimistic we'll get there, eventually. City planning typically works in increments.

Many years ago I was in a community meeting talking about a proposal we had to add retail uses adjacent to a park. Residential was the highest and best use, but we were excited by what retail could do for the project and area. We were imagining something like a Parisian cafe where everyone would sit facing outward toward the park.

Much to our surprise, the community was vehemently opposed. And when we eventually asked who had been to Europe and sat outside in a nice cafe, the response we generally got was, "yeah, we have, and it's obviously nice there, when on vacation. But that's Europe. It won't work here and it's not appropriate for the area."

Hmm. This raises all sorts of interesting questions. But for today, let's ask this one here: Why is it that some people choose to live in places that are so different than the ones they visit when on vacation?

Is it because we, as humans, want fundamentally different experiences when we travel? i.e. We want to escape from our current reality. "Oh look how novel this is." In this case, I guess you could say that our markets are fairly efficient and people are getting the kind of lifestyles that they truly want, both at home and abroad.

Or, is it because, for a variety of reasons, we've created rules and obstacles that force certain built form outcomes? We think the other ways won't work. I often find myself in this latter camp, meaning that when I travel, I at some point end up thinking: "This is a good idea. I want to both move here immediately, and steal this idea and bring it back to Toronto."

How about you?

Photo by DAT VO on Unsplash

Feargus O’Sullivan's CityLab series on European housing typologies started in London, but has since gone on to cover Berlin's mid-rise tenements -- called Mietskasernen -- and Amsterdam's canal houses. The series is exactly the sort of thing that I like to geek out about. In fact, I can see a book on this topic staring at me from my bookshelf.

If you end up taking the time to read the articles, you'll be reminded of a couple of things about the way cities work. One, the way we use buildings changes over time. Two, the kind of architecture we pursue is always a reflection of the socioeconomic milieu at that particular moment in time. And three, the way we perceive buildings also changes over time.

In the case of Amsterdam's canal houses, their original function was live/work. They were residences, but they were also warehouses. Amsterdam's maritime dominance meant that it was more profitable to store things, instead of just house people. (Sometimes as much as half of the house was dedicated to storage.) Trade patterns had moved from the Mediterranean up to the North Atlantic, and that worked out pretty well for the Dutch in the 17th century.

In the case of Berlin, their typical mid-rise "rental barracks" went from reviled to coveted as the buildings aged, elevators made the penthouses desirable, and people started to appreciate some of their idiosyncrasies. It's an example of what I was getting at when I spoke to the CBC for this article about Toronto's skyscraper boom. Some things, including buildings, take time. They need to settle in.

Our team has been spending a lot of time underwriting sites that would fit within the City of Toronto's new Major Streets Study. The last time I checked these policies were still under appeal, but the expectation is that they will eventually come into force and start encouraging small-scale apartments up to 6-storeys on all "Major Streets" across the city. This is meaningful progress for our city, and we're excited to be working on projects in this space.

At face value, 6 storeys on all major streets sounds like every great European city you've ever been to. But after studying countless sites, what I will say is that these policies are not designed to recreate Paris or Barcelona or Berlin. Instead, they are intended to be deferential to single-family houses. You see this in the required setbacks and in the maximum building depth, among other things. We all know why this is the case, and it was probably needed as a first step, but I think it's important to point out this subtlety.

Because there are at least two effects to this: one, the end future state will not be a uniform urban street wall, like what you'd find in Europe. That is not the goal of the current policies. And two, it unnecessarily makes the smallest sites more challenging to develop. That's a real shame, because more granularity is often a positive thing for cities. So we still have work to do. But I'm optimistic we'll get there, eventually. City planning typically works in increments.

Many years ago I was in a community meeting talking about a proposal we had to add retail uses adjacent to a park. Residential was the highest and best use, but we were excited by what retail could do for the project and area. We were imagining something like a Parisian cafe where everyone would sit facing outward toward the park.

Much to our surprise, the community was vehemently opposed. And when we eventually asked who had been to Europe and sat outside in a nice cafe, the response we generally got was, "yeah, we have, and it's obviously nice there, when on vacation. But that's Europe. It won't work here and it's not appropriate for the area."

Hmm. This raises all sorts of interesting questions. But for today, let's ask this one here: Why is it that some people choose to live in places that are so different than the ones they visit when on vacation?

Is it because we, as humans, want fundamentally different experiences when we travel? i.e. We want to escape from our current reality. "Oh look how novel this is." In this case, I guess you could say that our markets are fairly efficient and people are getting the kind of lifestyles that they truly want, both at home and abroad.

Or, is it because, for a variety of reasons, we've created rules and obstacles that force certain built form outcomes? We think the other ways won't work. I often find myself in this latter camp, meaning that when I travel, I at some point end up thinking: "This is a good idea. I want to both move here immediately, and steal this idea and bring it back to Toronto."

How about you?

Photo by DAT VO on Unsplash

Feargus O’Sullivan's CityLab series on European housing typologies started in London, but has since gone on to cover Berlin's mid-rise tenements -- called Mietskasernen -- and Amsterdam's canal houses. The series is exactly the sort of thing that I like to geek out about. In fact, I can see a book on this topic staring at me from my bookshelf.

If you end up taking the time to read the articles, you'll be reminded of a couple of things about the way cities work. One, the way we use buildings changes over time. Two, the kind of architecture we pursue is always a reflection of the socioeconomic milieu at that particular moment in time. And three, the way we perceive buildings also changes over time.

In the case of Amsterdam's canal houses, their original function was live/work. They were residences, but they were also warehouses. Amsterdam's maritime dominance meant that it was more profitable to store things, instead of just house people. (Sometimes as much as half of the house was dedicated to storage.) Trade patterns had moved from the Mediterranean up to the North Atlantic, and that worked out pretty well for the Dutch in the 17th century.

In the case of Berlin, their typical mid-rise "rental barracks" went from reviled to coveted as the buildings aged, elevators made the penthouses desirable, and people started to appreciate some of their idiosyncrasies. It's an example of what I was getting at when I spoke to the CBC for this article about Toronto's skyscraper boom. Some things, including buildings, take time. They need to settle in.