Whenever we submit a development application for a new project, we typically get a ton of inbounds from people who are looking to sell us something, partner in some way, or buy/rent space in the development. These can be positive connections and we have completed deals based on these sorts of inbounds.

But what is clear to me is that many people do not understand the development process and how long it takes to actually bring a new building to fruition. By the time a development application is filed, it is not uncommon for the developer to have already been working on the project for at least a year, and oftentimes longer in the case of more complicated projects.

And after the application is filed, it is not uncommon (at least in this city region) for the approvals process to take another few years. We have projects that are on year 7 and we still can't put shovels in the ground. This is a bit of a unique situation, but even still, when it's all said and done, a "typical" mid-rise or high-rise project could take 7-10 years from beginning to end. And sometimes longer.

A decade is a long time. So it's no wonder that low-rise sprawling cities with permissive land-use policies tend to have more elastic housing supply. Quicker builds. And quicker approvals.

I say all this not because I expect everyone to understand how the development process works. I'm saying it because maybe if more people knew how long everything takes, they'd be more open to streamlining the delivery process and to encouraging the construction of more missing middle housing.

Building buildings is really hard.

It's hard for countless reasons, but one reason in particular is that it can be difficult to please everyone. Take parking, for example. This is often a primary concern when you're trying to develop something new. Too little parking and people might be concerned that cars will start flooding the surrounding streets in search of a spot. Too much parking and people might be concerned about traffic congestion. So it can often feel like you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't.

I thought of this as I was reading through Alex Bozikovic's recent opinion piece in the Globe and Mail called, "Yes, in my backyard: How urban planning must shift to meet our postpandemic challenges." In it, he mentions a small missing middle-type infill project at 225 Brunswick Avenue here in Toronto. A century-old office building located in a residential neighborhood, a small developer has been working (with Suulin Architects) since 2018 to convert it into seven apartments.

Here are a few photos:

This is the kind of infill housing that planning staff and many councillors are trying to encourage across the city. And yet, the year is 2021. This developer is on year three in a process that will, maybe, deliver a total of seven new rental homes. There are also many other examples that we can point to in the city that have faced similar challenges, like this one here on Gerrard Street East. While not nearly as interesting architecturally speaking, it would have delivered 10 new homes proximate to transit. Maybe that will still happen. I can't say for sure.

I'm not going to get into the specifics of any one proposal, but two things are clear to me: (1) Our city, and many other cities around the world, have a need for more missing middle-type infill housing and (2) our system is greatly flawed if it takes years and years to ultimately green light the delivery of only a half dozen or so new homes.

Time equals money. And when we make the process this difficult it means that many developers aren't going to bother (because the math probably doesn't work) and that the ones who are successful will need to absorb a bunch of unnecessary costs in the end pricing/rents of their homes (i.e. make the homes more expensive than they need to be).

225 Brunswick is exactly the kind of project that I would love to work on: a small-scale adaptive reuse project where design is clearly a priority. But with a 3-4 year entitlement timeline (perhaps longer?), it's simply not worth it (though I do commend the efforts of the project team). I'm sure many others feel the same way that I do and that's unfortunate when you're trying to build a more vibrant, inclusive, and competitive global city.

Here is a good example of why "missing middle" housing is so challenging to build in Toronto, despite everyone talking about how great it would be if only we could build more of it.

It's the story of a minor variance application that was asking to sever a 50-foot lot at 2165 Gerrard Street East so that two semi-detached buildings and two laneway suites could be built. It would have added 10 family-sized rental units to a site that is on a streetcar line and that is within walking distance of both the subway and regional rail. And yet the consent to sever was denied.

How come you ask?

“I don’t believe dividing the property is in the best interest of the community,” said committee member Carl Knipfel, himself an architect and planner who complimented the beauty of the existing house and critiqued the design of the new buildings. “What is proposed is too dense … I really have serious concerns as to where this consent may lead us.”

The last sentence is the best part.

The article then goes on to argue that this is really all about the supremacy of single family homes and the desire to keep renters out of these neighborhoods. (Hey Airbnb, it's not just short-term rentals that people have a problem with; it's also long-term rentals.)

The kicker, for Mr. Galbraith [the project's planner], is he knows if he wanted to sever the lot for two single-family homes he could get that permission without delay and likely also get permission to build more than local zoning allows.

“I can get variances for a one-unit McMansion every day of the week,” he said. “Lot coverage variances are very common; you want to take a bungalow down and make some big ugly house with a weird roof and a high first floor? You see those all over East York and Etobicoke.”

If missing middle-type housing is "too dense" for sites that are endowed with every form of fixed rail transit that we have available in this city, then your guess is as good as mind as to where the hell it's supposed to go. It's time to grow up Toronto.

Whenever we submit a development application for a new project, we typically get a ton of inbounds from people who are looking to sell us something, partner in some way, or buy/rent space in the development. These can be positive connections and we have completed deals based on these sorts of inbounds.

But what is clear to me is that many people do not understand the development process and how long it takes to actually bring a new building to fruition. By the time a development application is filed, it is not uncommon for the developer to have already been working on the project for at least a year, and oftentimes longer in the case of more complicated projects.

And after the application is filed, it is not uncommon (at least in this city region) for the approvals process to take another few years. We have projects that are on year 7 and we still can't put shovels in the ground. This is a bit of a unique situation, but even still, when it's all said and done, a "typical" mid-rise or high-rise project could take 7-10 years from beginning to end. And sometimes longer.

A decade is a long time. So it's no wonder that low-rise sprawling cities with permissive land-use policies tend to have more elastic housing supply. Quicker builds. And quicker approvals.

I say all this not because I expect everyone to understand how the development process works. I'm saying it because maybe if more people knew how long everything takes, they'd be more open to streamlining the delivery process and to encouraging the construction of more missing middle housing.

Building buildings is really hard.

It's hard for countless reasons, but one reason in particular is that it can be difficult to please everyone. Take parking, for example. This is often a primary concern when you're trying to develop something new. Too little parking and people might be concerned that cars will start flooding the surrounding streets in search of a spot. Too much parking and people might be concerned about traffic congestion. So it can often feel like you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't.

I thought of this as I was reading through Alex Bozikovic's recent opinion piece in the Globe and Mail called, "Yes, in my backyard: How urban planning must shift to meet our postpandemic challenges." In it, he mentions a small missing middle-type infill project at 225 Brunswick Avenue here in Toronto. A century-old office building located in a residential neighborhood, a small developer has been working (with Suulin Architects) since 2018 to convert it into seven apartments.

Here are a few photos:

This is the kind of infill housing that planning staff and many councillors are trying to encourage across the city. And yet, the year is 2021. This developer is on year three in a process that will, maybe, deliver a total of seven new rental homes. There are also many other examples that we can point to in the city that have faced similar challenges, like this one here on Gerrard Street East. While not nearly as interesting architecturally speaking, it would have delivered 10 new homes proximate to transit. Maybe that will still happen. I can't say for sure.

I'm not going to get into the specifics of any one proposal, but two things are clear to me: (1) Our city, and many other cities around the world, have a need for more missing middle-type infill housing and (2) our system is greatly flawed if it takes years and years to ultimately green light the delivery of only a half dozen or so new homes.

Time equals money. And when we make the process this difficult it means that many developers aren't going to bother (because the math probably doesn't work) and that the ones who are successful will need to absorb a bunch of unnecessary costs in the end pricing/rents of their homes (i.e. make the homes more expensive than they need to be).

225 Brunswick is exactly the kind of project that I would love to work on: a small-scale adaptive reuse project where design is clearly a priority. But with a 3-4 year entitlement timeline (perhaps longer?), it's simply not worth it (though I do commend the efforts of the project team). I'm sure many others feel the same way that I do and that's unfortunate when you're trying to build a more vibrant, inclusive, and competitive global city.

Here is a good example of why "missing middle" housing is so challenging to build in Toronto, despite everyone talking about how great it would be if only we could build more of it.

It's the story of a minor variance application that was asking to sever a 50-foot lot at 2165 Gerrard Street East so that two semi-detached buildings and two laneway suites could be built. It would have added 10 family-sized rental units to a site that is on a streetcar line and that is within walking distance of both the subway and regional rail. And yet the consent to sever was denied.

How come you ask?

“I don’t believe dividing the property is in the best interest of the community,” said committee member Carl Knipfel, himself an architect and planner who complimented the beauty of the existing house and critiqued the design of the new buildings. “What is proposed is too dense … I really have serious concerns as to where this consent may lead us.”

The last sentence is the best part.

The article then goes on to argue that this is really all about the supremacy of single family homes and the desire to keep renters out of these neighborhoods. (Hey Airbnb, it's not just short-term rentals that people have a problem with; it's also long-term rentals.)

The kicker, for Mr. Galbraith [the project's planner], is he knows if he wanted to sever the lot for two single-family homes he could get that permission without delay and likely also get permission to build more than local zoning allows.

“I can get variances for a one-unit McMansion every day of the week,” he said. “Lot coverage variances are very common; you want to take a bungalow down and make some big ugly house with a weird roof and a high first floor? You see those all over East York and Etobicoke.”

If missing middle-type housing is "too dense" for sites that are endowed with every form of fixed rail transit that we have available in this city, then your guess is as good as mind as to where the hell it's supposed to go. It's time to grow up Toronto.