I got a notice in the mail this week for a public meeting related to Toronto's multiplex zoning by-law. Multiplexes are house-like buildings with two, three or four dwelling units. This housing type became newly permissible across the city in May 2023, but as part of the approval, the city was asked to keep an eye on things and report back on anything that might need to be changed. What is now being proposed are amendments to this original by-law.

One change is the introduction of the term "houseplex." This is meant to get away from unit-specific terms like duplex, triplex, and fourplex; but it also sounds like it was designed to placate single-family house owners. Another proposed change is a limit on the number of bedrooms in a building. For houseplexes with three or more units, the maximum number of bedrooms is proposed to be 3 x the number of dwelling units. This is designed to block rooming houses.

It's a reminder that zoning is, at least in this part of the world, about fine-grained control. It's typically about narrowing the universe of options down to a minimum so that it's clear what we can expect. This is why zoning by-laws have things called "permitted uses." It's a strict list of things you can do. And if it's not on the list, it's off limits. A different and more flexible approach would be to do the opposite: list only what you can't do. This broadens the universe of possibilities, but gives up some control.

Roughly speaking, this is how zoning works in Japan. Land use planning starts at the national level, as opposed to being strictly delegated to local governments. And from my understanding, there are 12 main zones, ranging from exclusively low-rise residential to exclusively industrial. (Here's an interesting undergraduate paper I found on the topic.) What's fascinating about this system is that it's organized by nuisance or intensity level, and it works cumulatively.

Meaning, as you move up in allowable nuisance, things of lesser intensity still tend to be allowed. For example, just because you might have a commercial zone with restaurants and department stores, it doesn't mean you still can't build residential. It's a less intense use. At the same time, the starting point is also more permissive, because even the exclusively low-rise residential zone allows "small shops or offices." What all of this creates is a planning framework where most zones are by default mixed-use.

This is a fundamentally different approach. It relinquishes some degree of control, embraces more flexibility, and accepts that cities are chaotic living organisms. It's impossible to draw lines on a map and figure out exactly where each permitted use should go. We'll never get it right and/or keep up. What this means is that we're artificially stifling our cities by not just focusing on the obviously bad stuff (like heavy industry next to a daycare), and letting the market decide where a ramen stand should go.

Cover photo by Susann Schuster on Unsplash

This week, Urban Toronto reported a record number of residential development applications submitted in the City of Toronto over the last quarter. A total of 25,598 residential homes were proposed across 12 condominium projects, 16 rental projects, and two projects that also include an office component.

The total area was around 20 million square feet. The total number of buildings was 66. The median height was somewhere around 23 storeys (~86 meters), with the tallest being 67 storeys. And the average parking ratio was around 0.3 spaces per home. (The below chart seems to suggest that parking minimums were previously constraining the market.)

This is, according to UT, the highest number of proposed new homes in a single quarter over the last five years:

So, should this be taken as some sort of leading indicator that the market is set to rebound? My view is no. It certainly shows some degree of optimism for the future of our market, but there are lots of reasons why a developer might submit a development application in a down market.

Developers could be seeking more density as a way to reduce their land basis. If you bought a site for $25 million and you have approval to build 250,000 sf, your land basis is $100 per buildable square foot. If you can now build 350,000 sf, you've just reduced your land basis to $71 pbsf. That effectively means it's cheaper, which is good; but importantly, it now means have more space to absorb. So there's a trade off.

Another reason could be that developers are reworking their sites for purpose-built rental (from for-sale condominiums). The figures provided by Urban Toronto show that the majority of the applications were for rental projects. I suspect that this could be a big driver. Converting a project from condominium to rental isn't as simple as just flipping the legal tenure.

Lastly, I will say that developers could be pulling the trigger on new development applications simply because they need or want to do something. We all have sites, and we're programmed to move and get stuff done. Sitting around doesn't accomplish anything and it frankly doesn't feel good. Question now becomes: who will be in a position to be patient once they get their approvals?

It's hard to pinpoint exactly what drove this surge, but it should not be assumed that it will translate into more new housing in the short term. The real indicator is market absorption. Without it, development density has very little value.

Cover photo by Bennie Bates on Unsplash

Urban sprawl is how much of the US provides new housing. And here's Conor Dougherty in the New York Times arguing that America needs more of it to fix its housing shortage:

Even if all the regulatory restraints were removed tomorrow, developers couldn’t find enough land to satisfy America’s housing needs inside established areas. Consequently, much of the nation’s housing growth has moved to states in the South and Southwest, where a surplus of open land and willingness to sprawl has turned the Sun Belt into a kind of national sponge that sops up housing demand from higher-cost cities. The largest metro areas there have about 20 percent of the nation’s population, but over the past five years they have built 42 percent of the nation’s new single-family homes, according to a recent report by Cullum Clark, an economist at the George W. Bush Institute, a research center in Dallas.

The obvious benefit is that the resulting housing tends to be cheap. The above article is filled with examples of people buying large homes for a few hundred thousand dollars in newly formed communities across Texas. And if you live in a high-cost city, the social algorithms have almost certainly found you at some point with a shockingly cheap house in one of these places. But, Dougherty also admits that sometimes this may be the only redeeming quality:

Escobar told me he moved to Princeton because he could find a big house there for less than $300,000, but now the city is home, and he didn’t like where it was headed. Over the next four years, he said, his goal is to redevelop the downtown, try to attract offices where locals can work and build out a park system that voters recently funded with a bond measure. “You ask anybody what they love about Princeton, and it’s simply just the affordability,” Escobar told me. “We need to be more than that.”

According to the article, this isn't necessarily a problem, because it's just how cities are built in this day and age. What you do is start with low-cost housing in fringe locations. You grow as quickly as possible until traffic becomes "godawful" and vital infrastructure can't keep up. Then you implement moratoriums on new housing, and start working on other uses like, you know, employment. Eventually, after all this chaos is complete, you end up with something that possibly resembles a real city.

Yeah, I don't know, this seems like a roundabout way of getting to where you want to go. Why not build and plan for something with a high quality of life right from the start?

Cover photo by Leon Hitchens on Unsplash