Feargus O'Sullivan is back with another Bloomberg CityLab article about "the iconic home designs that define our global cities." In this recent article he focuses on the Barnrikehus of Stockholm (and also talks about Sweden's housing market in general). Originally built in the 1930s, the slab-like midrise buildings were largely intended to address two pressing problems: 1) the need for affordable housing and 2) Sweden's incredibly low birthrate (supposedly the lowest in Europe at the time).

The Barnrikehus template was deployed on the edges of Stockholm and other Swedish cities. The designs were/are fairly simple. Very little ornament (this is Scandinavia). Four or five storeys usually. And no more than about 12 meters deep. This allowed for better natural ventilation, which was important for stymying the spread of tuberculosis. The rents were also heavily subsidized and declined even further with every child in the family. In other words: the more kids you had, the less rent you had to pay.

The suites were fairly compact, with many around the 430 square foot mark. This kind of space might have housed a family of six according to O'Sullivan. But compared to the other available housing options at the time, this was a significant improvement. Perhaps not surprisingly, these "child-rich houses" (which is how the name translates) developed the same kind of social housing stigma that was prevalent in many other countries and cities around the world.

But that perception changed over time and, today, these rent-controlled apartments are apparently highly sought after. (Here's a listing to give you a taste of what they're like.) Originally on the fringe of cities like Stockholm, they are now very well located and offer a high standard of living. (You also can't go wrong with white walls and pale woods.) To learn more about the evolution of Stockholm's depression-era housing, click here.

Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

At the beginning of this year (which seems like eons ago), I wrote about a CityLab series that Feargus O'Sullivan was doing on the vernacular home designs of a handful of European cities. Cities like London and Berlin.

Well, after a brief pause, that series is back in the form of a CityLab "storythread." It's now called, "The Iconic Home Designs That Define Our Global Cities." In it, he explores the various floor plans, housing typologies, and tenures that you might find around the world. Everywhere from from Singapore to Reykjavik.

The most recent article is all about Prague's communist-era apartments. Apparently people call these paneláks because they were initially built using some sort of collection of prefabricated panels. They were a quick and dirty housing solution for a city and country that were rapidly urbanizing starting in the late 1950s. (See, prefab works.)

But what I find most interesting about the story of these paneláks is how their reputation seems to have changed and evolved over time. They proved to be a far more adaptable form of housing than you might initially think, going from written off and ready for demolition, in some cases, to then becoming a form of aspirational housing.

Part of this allegedly had to do with a handover from state ownership to private ownership, which maybe goes to show you that architecture and design, alone, aren't enough when it comes to housing innovation. You really need to consider the whole picture.

But regardless, it is clear to me that tastes do change, and housing is no exception. Renewal is an integral part of urban life. And one generation's trash might be another generation's treasure.

Photo by Jakub Matyáš on Unsplash

Feargus O'Sullivan is back with another Bloomberg CityLab article about "the iconic home designs that define our global cities." In this recent article he focuses on the Barnrikehus of Stockholm (and also talks about Sweden's housing market in general). Originally built in the 1930s, the slab-like midrise buildings were largely intended to address two pressing problems: 1) the need for affordable housing and 2) Sweden's incredibly low birthrate (supposedly the lowest in Europe at the time).

The Barnrikehus template was deployed on the edges of Stockholm and other Swedish cities. The designs were/are fairly simple. Very little ornament (this is Scandinavia). Four or five storeys usually. And no more than about 12 meters deep. This allowed for better natural ventilation, which was important for stymying the spread of tuberculosis. The rents were also heavily subsidized and declined even further with every child in the family. In other words: the more kids you had, the less rent you had to pay.

The suites were fairly compact, with many around the 430 square foot mark. This kind of space might have housed a family of six according to O'Sullivan. But compared to the other available housing options at the time, this was a significant improvement. Perhaps not surprisingly, these "child-rich houses" (which is how the name translates) developed the same kind of social housing stigma that was prevalent in many other countries and cities around the world.

But that perception changed over time and, today, these rent-controlled apartments are apparently highly sought after. (Here's a listing to give you a taste of what they're like.) Originally on the fringe of cities like Stockholm, they are now very well located and offer a high standard of living. (You also can't go wrong with white walls and pale woods.) To learn more about the evolution of Stockholm's depression-era housing, click here.

Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

At the beginning of this year (which seems like eons ago), I wrote about a CityLab series that Feargus O'Sullivan was doing on the vernacular home designs of a handful of European cities. Cities like London and Berlin.

Well, after a brief pause, that series is back in the form of a CityLab "storythread." It's now called, "The Iconic Home Designs That Define Our Global Cities." In it, he explores the various floor plans, housing typologies, and tenures that you might find around the world. Everywhere from from Singapore to Reykjavik.

The most recent article is all about Prague's communist-era apartments. Apparently people call these paneláks because they were initially built using some sort of collection of prefabricated panels. They were a quick and dirty housing solution for a city and country that were rapidly urbanizing starting in the late 1950s. (See, prefab works.)

But what I find most interesting about the story of these paneláks is how their reputation seems to have changed and evolved over time. They proved to be a far more adaptable form of housing than you might initially think, going from written off and ready for demolition, in some cases, to then becoming a form of aspirational housing.

Part of this allegedly had to do with a handover from state ownership to private ownership, which maybe goes to show you that architecture and design, alone, aren't enough when it comes to housing innovation. You really need to consider the whole picture.

But regardless, it is clear to me that tastes do change, and housing is no exception. Renewal is an integral part of urban life. And one generation's trash might be another generation's treasure.

Photo by Jakub Matyáš on Unsplash