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It is disappointing to me that we often vilify all condominiums as being "luxury condos." I think the rhetoric is disingenuous and I think it distracts us from finding more productive solutions. As Mike Moffatt points out in this thread, if you look at virtually all major cities in Canada, the most affordable housing options are going to be condominiums and not low-rise freehold houses.
In his case, he looked at current for sale listings in London, Ontario, and found that for homes under $400k, about 81% of them were condominiums, and for homes over $1,200,000, only 4% of them were condominiums. Again: the real "luxury homes" are the low-rise houses that not the condos.
Now to be fair, John Pasalis is not wrong in responding to the thread and saying that on a per pound basis, or a per square foot basis, condominiums are actually more expensive. I've been saying this for years on the blog. When measured this way, mid-rise buildings are one of if not the most expensive housing typologies.
So John's argument is that, while condominiums may be the more affordable option for 1-2 person households, if you're a family in need of more space, low-rise housing is likely going to be more affordable for you on a per square foot basis. And I would agree with this statement.
The problem with this approach in the real world, though, is that people don't buy and afford homes based on this metric. You can't go to a bank and say, "I want to buy this house for $1.7 million dollars because it's only $680 per square foot when I include the basement, and that's better value than this 700 square foot condominium selling for $1,400 psf."
Sorry, the bank is going to tell you what total price you can afford based on your income. And that's why condominiums in our market have tended to serve as a critical entry point for first-time buyers. They're the most affordable option in terms of their total sale price.
So in my view, labelling all condominiums as "luxury" is not exactly productive. It ignores their role in providing more affordable homes; it overlooks the supply constraint that low-rise houses represent in most of our cities; and it's a distraction from the more systemic issue at hand: how do we make housing more affordable for everyone, including families?
Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
The cost of a parking spot in downtown Toronto has reached as high as $60,000 (per stall) in some new construction projects. If you convert that to a per square foot price (which is typically how people measure condo prices), you’re looking at over $350 per square foot for that parking stall. Is it worth it?
Most cities around the world have what is called a parking minimum. This means that to build, say a new residential condo, developers need to provide a certain number of parking stalls. In Toronto, those minimums will depend on your unit mix. Bigger units have more stringent parking requirements.
In some cities, though it’s much rarer, they actually have parking maximums. Portland, for instance, has a maximum number of parking stalls that you’re allowed to build, which fluctuates based on the development’s proximity to transit.
And finally, there are some cities, such as Berlin, with no parking minimums or maximums at all. In those cases, the market dictates the number of parking stalls that should be built. If people want a parking spot with their apartment and won’t buy or rent it without one, then the developer builds it.
Though parking variances do happen in Toronto (for reasons such as proximity to transit), the city is generally skeptical of a market led approach to parking requirements. And there are a couple of reasons for that. They worry that investors might be buying the units (with no parking) and so the sales data may not be indicative of the end-user market.
The city also worries that developers might actively discourage purchasers from buying parking spots, as it’s usually more profitable not to build them. Underground parking is costly and often subsidized by the sale of the condo units themselves. In fact, I’ve heard of instances where underground parking has cost upwards of $100,000 per stall because of buoyancy forces and other technical details.
But I’m generally a free market guy. So I question if the market really isn’t capable of figuring out how much parking there truly needs to be. Undoubtedly, there will be families who demand 2 parking spots. I also bought a parking spot with my condo. But there may also be a number of people who would rather pay less for their home than subsidize a parking garage that they’ll rarely use.
And as I wrote in a recent post called, Is traffic the right question?, we could be losing sight of the greater goal. If we truly want to build a sustainable and livable city, then we should be considering how our development activity encourages transit usage over driving, and how we can promote a more balanced modal split across the city.
What are your thoughts? Would you buy a home without parking? Should we get rid of parking minimums, just as cities like Berlin have?
I’ve already spoken about why I became a developer and offered some insights into how you might be able to transition from architecture into development. So now I’d like to start focusing more on the day-to-day of what it means to be a real estate developer.
And since I seem to be getting a lot of questions from readers on career and development related topics, I’ve decided that I’m going to turn these posts into a regular blog series. Right now the working name is “Developer Dirt”, but if you have a better name I’m all ears (let me know in the comments below).
So let’s start with step 1.
You’re ready to develop a new project and you’re now in the market for some land (also known as a site). It could be a greenfield site (meaning it’s virgin land that hasn’t yet been tainted by humans) or, on the other end of the spectrum, it could a brownfield site (meaning it probably once housed industry, it’s contaminated as all hell, and you’re going to need to clean that puppy up before you build).
Without going into further detail about all the different kinds of sites you could potentially buy (which is a post in itself), here are 3 high level things to keep in mind as you move forward.
Land is the residual claimant
What this means is that you want to start with your top line. You want to start with revenue. What can I build on this site (use and square feet) and how much can I ultimately sell or lease that space for?
Let’s say, for example, that you think you can build 100,000 square feet. If it were office space, you’d want to know that rents in your area are $30 per square feet and that that’s going to render you $3M a year in rental income. If it were residential condos, you’d want to know that the market is absorbing $500 per square foot and that if you sold 100,000 square feet worth of condo, that your revenue would be $50M. But remember this is top line.
Once you know your top line, you then need to figure out what it’s going to cost to bring you that revenue stream. In other words, what are the hard costs (construction costs), the soft costs (consultant fees and other non-construction costs), the return my investors are going to demand, the money I need to keep the lights on in my business, and so on.
Hopefully, once you’ve calculated all of these numbers, you’ll have some money left over from that original top line number. That residual money is what you can reasonably afford to pay for the land, which is why it’s often referred to as the residual claimant. But even though it comes last in this example, it comes first in development. If you overpay at the onset, it’ll be an uphill battle the rest of the way.
You often don’t know what you can build
But here’s the rub: You often don’t know exactly what you can build. When developers buy land they often consider what they can build “as-of-right” and what they think they can build as a result of variances, rezoning and other discretionary actions.
As-of-right basically refers to what the current zoning permits. It’s what you could go out tomorrow and build (after you get the requisite permits of course). Unfortunately though, as-of-right uses and densities are not often inline with what’s actually happening in a neighborhood. So you need to go into the city for things like a zoning by-law amendment.
Similarly, vendors want the most for their land and so they’re going to be aggressive on this front. As a developer, this is the point where you surround yourself with a team of smart people who can help you figure out what’s reasonably attainable for the site in question. And sometimes you have to worry about the politics as much as the planning.
Approvals are uncertain
During the due diligence phase, the goal is obviously to mitigate as much of your risk as possible. Nobody wants to get stuck with a piece of land that they overpaid for that they now can’t (profitably) develop. But sometimes shit happens.
It may seem like a no brainer. You could have a site that’s surrounded by transit with lots of great precedences (this matters) for the height and density that you’re hoping to obtain and that you feel will be appropriate for the neighborhood. But sometimes the stars don’t align.
And that’s why development is a risky game.
It is disappointing to me that we often vilify all condominiums as being "luxury condos." I think the rhetoric is disingenuous and I think it distracts us from finding more productive solutions. As Mike Moffatt points out in this thread, if you look at virtually all major cities in Canada, the most affordable housing options are going to be condominiums and not low-rise freehold houses.
In his case, he looked at current for sale listings in London, Ontario, and found that for homes under $400k, about 81% of them were condominiums, and for homes over $1,200,000, only 4% of them were condominiums. Again: the real "luxury homes" are the low-rise houses that not the condos.
Now to be fair, John Pasalis is not wrong in responding to the thread and saying that on a per pound basis, or a per square foot basis, condominiums are actually more expensive. I've been saying this for years on the blog. When measured this way, mid-rise buildings are one of if not the most expensive housing typologies.
So John's argument is that, while condominiums may be the more affordable option for 1-2 person households, if you're a family in need of more space, low-rise housing is likely going to be more affordable for you on a per square foot basis. And I would agree with this statement.
The problem with this approach in the real world, though, is that people don't buy and afford homes based on this metric. You can't go to a bank and say, "I want to buy this house for $1.7 million dollars because it's only $680 per square foot when I include the basement, and that's better value than this 700 square foot condominium selling for $1,400 psf."
Sorry, the bank is going to tell you what total price you can afford based on your income. And that's why condominiums in our market have tended to serve as a critical entry point for first-time buyers. They're the most affordable option in terms of their total sale price.
So in my view, labelling all condominiums as "luxury" is not exactly productive. It ignores their role in providing more affordable homes; it overlooks the supply constraint that low-rise houses represent in most of our cities; and it's a distraction from the more systemic issue at hand: how do we make housing more affordable for everyone, including families?
Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash
The cost of a parking spot in downtown Toronto has reached as high as $60,000 (per stall) in some new construction projects. If you convert that to a per square foot price (which is typically how people measure condo prices), you’re looking at over $350 per square foot for that parking stall. Is it worth it?
Most cities around the world have what is called a parking minimum. This means that to build, say a new residential condo, developers need to provide a certain number of parking stalls. In Toronto, those minimums will depend on your unit mix. Bigger units have more stringent parking requirements.
In some cities, though it’s much rarer, they actually have parking maximums. Portland, for instance, has a maximum number of parking stalls that you’re allowed to build, which fluctuates based on the development’s proximity to transit.
And finally, there are some cities, such as Berlin, with no parking minimums or maximums at all. In those cases, the market dictates the number of parking stalls that should be built. If people want a parking spot with their apartment and won’t buy or rent it without one, then the developer builds it.
Though parking variances do happen in Toronto (for reasons such as proximity to transit), the city is generally skeptical of a market led approach to parking requirements. And there are a couple of reasons for that. They worry that investors might be buying the units (with no parking) and so the sales data may not be indicative of the end-user market.
The city also worries that developers might actively discourage purchasers from buying parking spots, as it’s usually more profitable not to build them. Underground parking is costly and often subsidized by the sale of the condo units themselves. In fact, I’ve heard of instances where underground parking has cost upwards of $100,000 per stall because of buoyancy forces and other technical details.
But I’m generally a free market guy. So I question if the market really isn’t capable of figuring out how much parking there truly needs to be. Undoubtedly, there will be families who demand 2 parking spots. I also bought a parking spot with my condo. But there may also be a number of people who would rather pay less for their home than subsidize a parking garage that they’ll rarely use.
And as I wrote in a recent post called, Is traffic the right question?, we could be losing sight of the greater goal. If we truly want to build a sustainable and livable city, then we should be considering how our development activity encourages transit usage over driving, and how we can promote a more balanced modal split across the city.
What are your thoughts? Would you buy a home without parking? Should we get rid of parking minimums, just as cities like Berlin have?
I’ve already spoken about why I became a developer and offered some insights into how you might be able to transition from architecture into development. So now I’d like to start focusing more on the day-to-day of what it means to be a real estate developer.
And since I seem to be getting a lot of questions from readers on career and development related topics, I’ve decided that I’m going to turn these posts into a regular blog series. Right now the working name is “Developer Dirt”, but if you have a better name I’m all ears (let me know in the comments below).
So let’s start with step 1.
You’re ready to develop a new project and you’re now in the market for some land (also known as a site). It could be a greenfield site (meaning it’s virgin land that hasn’t yet been tainted by humans) or, on the other end of the spectrum, it could a brownfield site (meaning it probably once housed industry, it’s contaminated as all hell, and you’re going to need to clean that puppy up before you build).
Without going into further detail about all the different kinds of sites you could potentially buy (which is a post in itself), here are 3 high level things to keep in mind as you move forward.
Land is the residual claimant
What this means is that you want to start with your top line. You want to start with revenue. What can I build on this site (use and square feet) and how much can I ultimately sell or lease that space for?
Let’s say, for example, that you think you can build 100,000 square feet. If it were office space, you’d want to know that rents in your area are $30 per square feet and that that’s going to render you $3M a year in rental income. If it were residential condos, you’d want to know that the market is absorbing $500 per square foot and that if you sold 100,000 square feet worth of condo, that your revenue would be $50M. But remember this is top line.
Once you know your top line, you then need to figure out what it’s going to cost to bring you that revenue stream. In other words, what are the hard costs (construction costs), the soft costs (consultant fees and other non-construction costs), the return my investors are going to demand, the money I need to keep the lights on in my business, and so on.
Hopefully, once you’ve calculated all of these numbers, you’ll have some money left over from that original top line number. That residual money is what you can reasonably afford to pay for the land, which is why it’s often referred to as the residual claimant. But even though it comes last in this example, it comes first in development. If you overpay at the onset, it’ll be an uphill battle the rest of the way.
You often don’t know what you can build
But here’s the rub: You often don’t know exactly what you can build. When developers buy land they often consider what they can build “as-of-right” and what they think they can build as a result of variances, rezoning and other discretionary actions.
As-of-right basically refers to what the current zoning permits. It’s what you could go out tomorrow and build (after you get the requisite permits of course). Unfortunately though, as-of-right uses and densities are not often inline with what’s actually happening in a neighborhood. So you need to go into the city for things like a zoning by-law amendment.
Similarly, vendors want the most for their land and so they’re going to be aggressive on this front. As a developer, this is the point where you surround yourself with a team of smart people who can help you figure out what’s reasonably attainable for the site in question. And sometimes you have to worry about the politics as much as the planning.
Approvals are uncertain
During the due diligence phase, the goal is obviously to mitigate as much of your risk as possible. Nobody wants to get stuck with a piece of land that they overpaid for that they now can’t (profitably) develop. But sometimes shit happens.
It may seem like a no brainer. You could have a site that’s surrounded by transit with lots of great precedences (this matters) for the height and density that you’re hoping to obtain and that you feel will be appropriate for the neighborhood. But sometimes the stars don’t align.
And that’s why development is a risky game.
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