Brandon Donnelly
Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly.
Brandon Donnelly
Daily insights for city builders. Published since 2013 by Toronto-based real estate developer Brandon Donnelly.
It has now been almost a year since New York City implemented its congestion charge for the area of Manhattan south of 60th Street and, despite all of the critics, the results are overwhelmingly positive. Here are some of the most important data points:
Pollution is down by as much as 22% in the congestion zone area.
Traffic has declined by about 11% in the zone. As a reminder, traffic improved basically immediately following the $9 charge.
An average of 71,500 fewer vehicles entered the zone each day from January through to November 2025, totalling nearly 24 million fewer vehicles.
The congestion charge is forecasted to bring in $548.3 million in 2025, beating the initial goal of $500 million. (This revenue will be used by the MTA for bond issuances that will in turn fund further infrastructure improvements.)
Importantly, foot traffic in the zone is also up year-over-year compared to Manhattan as a whole (3.5% versus 1.4%, respectively).
Storefront vacancies in the zone declined more rapidly compared to Manhattan as a whole and the rest of the city. (Though the vacancy rate is still the highest in this area, presumably because of the higher rents in downtown and midtown.)
New York City's sales tax revenue is also up 6.3% this year compared to the same period last year, outperforming all neighboring counties. This suggests that the congestion charge is not keeping shoppers away.
So, why shouldn't other North American cities follow New York's lead?
Cover photo by ian dooley on Unsplash
Sometimes I am an advocate for big, bold urban change. This is where I tend to be closely aligned with urbanists like Joe Berridge, co-founder of Urban Strategies. (We sat on a panel together this past October at the Council for Canadian Urbanism Forum, and I found myself agreeing with him on this point.)
For example, last week I tweeted that the edges of High Park would be better off looking like Central Park in New York. By this I meant that High Park is an urban park with a major subway line running on top of it — we should not be shy about embracing a more urban future.
This stretch of Bloor Street, at the north edge of the park, has got to be one of the dullest stretches of street along the entire line. It's hardly fitting for Toronto's most famous urban park.
Some of you didn't like this tweet. Serendipitously, it also happened to align with a heated community meeting for a major two-tower rental development in High Park North. But this project is one block from a subway station, and it should be approved. The unfortunate reality is that we have underdeveloped much of the land around our transit infrastructure.
At the very same time, I am a strong advocate for small-scale, incremental change. We've spoken a lot about this topic over the years, particularly in the context of Tokyo. Japan is renowned for its flexible approach to zoning and for the way that it allows small, ground-up interventions. The result is an approach to urbanism that is often referred to as emergent.
It has now been almost a year since New York City implemented its congestion charge for the area of Manhattan south of 60th Street and, despite all of the critics, the results are overwhelmingly positive. Here are some of the most important data points:
Pollution is down by as much as 22% in the congestion zone area.
Traffic has declined by about 11% in the zone. As a reminder, traffic improved basically immediately following the $9 charge.
An average of 71,500 fewer vehicles entered the zone each day from January through to November 2025, totalling nearly 24 million fewer vehicles.
The congestion charge is forecasted to bring in $548.3 million in 2025, beating the initial goal of $500 million. (This revenue will be used by the MTA for bond issuances that will in turn fund further infrastructure improvements.)
Importantly, foot traffic in the zone is also up year-over-year compared to Manhattan as a whole (3.5% versus 1.4%, respectively).
Storefront vacancies in the zone declined more rapidly compared to Manhattan as a whole and the rest of the city. (Though the vacancy rate is still the highest in this area, presumably because of the higher rents in downtown and midtown.)
New York City's sales tax revenue is also up 6.3% this year compared to the same period last year, outperforming all neighboring counties. This suggests that the congestion charge is not keeping shoppers away.
So, why shouldn't other North American cities follow New York's lead?
Cover photo by ian dooley on Unsplash
Sometimes I am an advocate for big, bold urban change. This is where I tend to be closely aligned with urbanists like Joe Berridge, co-founder of Urban Strategies. (We sat on a panel together this past October at the Council for Canadian Urbanism Forum, and I found myself agreeing with him on this point.)
For example, last week I tweeted that the edges of High Park would be better off looking like Central Park in New York. By this I meant that High Park is an urban park with a major subway line running on top of it — we should not be shy about embracing a more urban future.
This stretch of Bloor Street, at the north edge of the park, has got to be one of the dullest stretches of street along the entire line. It's hardly fitting for Toronto's most famous urban park.
Some of you didn't like this tweet. Serendipitously, it also happened to align with a heated community meeting for a major two-tower rental development in High Park North. But this project is one block from a subway station, and it should be approved. The unfortunate reality is that we have underdeveloped much of the land around our transit infrastructure.
At the very same time, I am a strong advocate for small-scale, incremental change. We've spoken a lot about this topic over the years, particularly in the context of Tokyo. Japan is renowned for its flexible approach to zoning and for the way that it allows small, ground-up interventions. The result is an approach to urbanism that is often referred to as emergent.
To achieve this, they rely on "soft infrastructure" such as local shops and grocers, hotels, housing, workspaces, restaurants, regenerative agriculture, lifelong learning centers, and more. In other words, they are focused on the nuts and bolts that make for thriving local communities and that can be easily missed if you're too focused on the bigger picture.
One recently completed project is Soil Nihonbashi in Tokyo's Nihonbashi-Kabutocho neighborhood. Designed by architect Kiyoaki Takeda, the project opened in September and includes a coffee shop, cocktail bar, dim sum spot (and other dining options), co-working space, parklet (bakery), rooftop agricultural garden, and 14-room hotel.
It's the kind of hotel that global brands tend to avoid like the plague. It's too small. Too many diseconomies of scale. But it's exactly the kind of hotel and mix of uses that is wonderful for local communities. Think of what the Drake Hotel here in Toronto did for West Queen West when it opened back in the day.
All of this brings me back to something I have said before. A good recipe for city building is to be stubborn on vision, but flexible on the details. Cities are at their best when you allow and empower bottom-up change. Get out of the way. There's no way that top-down planning will get it all right. So if you can combine bold vision with flexible implementation, well then, you've got the secret sauce.
Cover photo from architect Kiyoaki Takeda
This map, showing the right-of-way widths of Toronto's major streets, is one of my favorite maps. It tells you so much about the scale of the city.
Even if you were entirely unfamiliar with Toronto, you could look at this map and gather from the width and spacing of its major arteries that the orange streets (20 meters) represent the oldest parts of Toronto and that the red streets (36 meters) represent the newer and more suburban parts of the city.
It's also interesting to think about this map in the context of other cities. Manhattan, for example, has a famous grid plan that generally contains north-south avenues and east-west streets. Most, but not all, of the avenues are 100 feet wide, or ~30 meters. And most, but not all, of the streets are 60 feet wide, or ~18 meters.
I tried to get Gemini to create a New York version of the above map using the same color legend, but it hallucinated and didn't give me what I wanted. So you'll have to use your imagination. Manhattan's avenues typically correspond to the dark blue lines on Toronto's map, and its streets are even narrower than the orange lines.
If you were to overlay these two maps at the same scale, you'd see at least two things: one, Toronto doesn't have the same kind of broad avenues cutting through its most urban areas (meaning it's harder to move cars around) and, two, Manhattan has a much thicker web of urban streets. Consider the density that exists on Manhattan's 18-meter-wide streets.
Toronto did not lay out its urban grid ahead of time like New York did with its Commissioners' Plan in 1811. In many ways, Toronto feels more like an accidental global city. But that doesn't mean we can't look at our urban grid today and decide what it wants to be for the next 200 years. I think that would be a good idea.
Cover photo by Tianlei Wu on Unsplash
To achieve this, they rely on "soft infrastructure" such as local shops and grocers, hotels, housing, workspaces, restaurants, regenerative agriculture, lifelong learning centers, and more. In other words, they are focused on the nuts and bolts that make for thriving local communities and that can be easily missed if you're too focused on the bigger picture.
One recently completed project is Soil Nihonbashi in Tokyo's Nihonbashi-Kabutocho neighborhood. Designed by architect Kiyoaki Takeda, the project opened in September and includes a coffee shop, cocktail bar, dim sum spot (and other dining options), co-working space, parklet (bakery), rooftop agricultural garden, and 14-room hotel.
It's the kind of hotel that global brands tend to avoid like the plague. It's too small. Too many diseconomies of scale. But it's exactly the kind of hotel and mix of uses that is wonderful for local communities. Think of what the Drake Hotel here in Toronto did for West Queen West when it opened back in the day.
All of this brings me back to something I have said before. A good recipe for city building is to be stubborn on vision, but flexible on the details. Cities are at their best when you allow and empower bottom-up change. Get out of the way. There's no way that top-down planning will get it all right. So if you can combine bold vision with flexible implementation, well then, you've got the secret sauce.
Cover photo from architect Kiyoaki Takeda
This map, showing the right-of-way widths of Toronto's major streets, is one of my favorite maps. It tells you so much about the scale of the city.
Even if you were entirely unfamiliar with Toronto, you could look at this map and gather from the width and spacing of its major arteries that the orange streets (20 meters) represent the oldest parts of Toronto and that the red streets (36 meters) represent the newer and more suburban parts of the city.
It's also interesting to think about this map in the context of other cities. Manhattan, for example, has a famous grid plan that generally contains north-south avenues and east-west streets. Most, but not all, of the avenues are 100 feet wide, or ~30 meters. And most, but not all, of the streets are 60 feet wide, or ~18 meters.
I tried to get Gemini to create a New York version of the above map using the same color legend, but it hallucinated and didn't give me what I wanted. So you'll have to use your imagination. Manhattan's avenues typically correspond to the dark blue lines on Toronto's map, and its streets are even narrower than the orange lines.
If you were to overlay these two maps at the same scale, you'd see at least two things: one, Toronto doesn't have the same kind of broad avenues cutting through its most urban areas (meaning it's harder to move cars around) and, two, Manhattan has a much thicker web of urban streets. Consider the density that exists on Manhattan's 18-meter-wide streets.
Toronto did not lay out its urban grid ahead of time like New York did with its Commissioners' Plan in 1811. In many ways, Toronto feels more like an accidental global city. But that doesn't mean we can't look at our urban grid today and decide what it wants to be for the next 200 years. I think that would be a good idea.
Cover photo by Tianlei Wu on Unsplash
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