Daily insights for city builders, delivered every morning at 6 AM ET. I’m Brandon Donnelly — a Toronto-based real estate developer and founder of Globizen. I’ve been writing here since 2013.

Category: Planning

  • It’s okay for urbanism to be a bit messy

    The urban-to-rural transect is a New Urbanist planning framework that prescribes a smooth continuum of settlements that go from least dense to most dense. The six zones are as follows: natural (T1), rural (T2), sub-urban (T3), general urban (T4), center (T5), and core (T6).

    Part of this framework is about rejecting single-use Euclidean zoning. Instead of segregating uses, New Urbanism looks to return to a mix of uses within close proximity of each other. This is a good thing.

    But the transect also advocates for a certain orderliness. There should be a smooth transition as you move outward from T6 toward T1. It is about placing things in their useful order and maintaining a certain kind of character.

    Witold Rybczynski makes an interesting observation about this in a recent post called “urban discontinuities.” The point he makes is that some of the most remarkable urban moments are the result not of smoothness, but of “odd juxtapositions.”

    Think:

    – Mount Royal (T1) in the middle of downtown Montreal (T6).

    – The North Shore Mountains (T1) that terminate views from within the building canyons of downtown Vancouver (T6)

    – The walls of tall buildings (T6) that frame Central Park (T1) in Manhattan

    – The wonderful ravines (T1) that cut through Toronto’s urban fabric (T6)

    These are contrasting zones in the transect bumping up against each other. And it turns out that most of us really like these moments. But I think that the bigger point to be made here is that urban environments aren’t always neat and tidy, and that’s because they are a constantly evolving organism.

    That’s not a bug. It’s actually a feature to be celebrated.

  • Reimagining Toronto’s University Avenue

    If I have learned anything from this pandemic it is that, when push comes to shove, Torontonians will eat pretty much anywhere. On sidewalks. On streets. In white tents that masquerade as outdoor dining. And in many other little urban crevices.

    I am only half-joking, because the reality is that this pandemic has pried us away from the status quo and forced us to reconsider how we allocate and how we occupy many of our public spaces. There will be some positive outcomes on the other side of this.

    To that end, a new city building effort has just been announced here in Toronto. (Alex Bozikovic of the Globe and Mail wrote about it here in “Rebirth of the Promenade”.) The vision is called “University Park” and the team behind it includes the landscape architecture firm PUBLIC WORK, the non-profit Evergreen, and the Michael Young Family Foundation.

    What they want to do is transform Toronto’s University Avenue into something akin to La Rambla in Barcelona — except better:

    Our vision brings together patches of public green space that are currently disconnected and inaccessible in order to create a signature destination in the centre of our province’s capital. By making minor adjustments to the existing roadway on University Avenue and converting only 9.5 acres of city-owned asphalt into native landscape, pedestrian walkways, bike paths, and cultural installations, we can create a 90-acre park that spans from Queen’s Park all the way to the waterfront.

    It’s about time. My only request is that they include small sidewalk crevice where I might be able to sit and enjoy a chicken burrito and a glass of wine. To learn more about University Park and to subscribe to their newsletter, click here.

    Image: PUBLIC WORK

  • Barriers to entry: Salvador vs. Toronto

    Netflix has a new docuseries out about Latin American street food. I watched two episodes of it last night. The first was about a chef from Buenos Aires, Argentina and the second was about a chef — named Dona Suzana — from Salvador, Brazil. Even if you aren’t necessarily into food shows, it’s a good way to remind yourself just how much you probably miss traveling right now.

    The story of Dona Suzana is an interesting one. Before opening her restaurant, she was doing laundry in order to make ends meet. Then at one point, the City of Salvador came to her community in order to undertake a large construction project. They needed someone to cook food for the construction workers and so they asked her if she would do it.

    Since she had always dreamed of being a chef, she jumped at the opportunity and took out a loan to buy everything she needed in order to fit out her kitchen. She cooked for the workers and everyone loved the food. But she never ended up getting paid. They stiffed her.

    That turned her off cooking for a bit and it was not until a trio of graffiti artists were working in her community and looking for a place to eat that she tried her hand at it again. They offered to pay her in advance and persuaded her to make them something. She agreed and the food was a huge hit.

    In fact, the group of artists loved the food so much that they made her a sign with the name “RéRestaurante” (titled this way because Dona has a stutter) and began sharing photos of her dishes on social media. All of a sudden she had people showing up at her door. And today she has people from all around the world showing up at her door.

    This is a wonderful success story. But I think it also says something about land use policies. As far as I can tell from the episode, she setup her restaurant at her place of residence — a community along the waterfront where her husband fishes and where she uses his catches for her renowned dishes.

    Here in Toronto, we are operating in an environment where if you try and setup a coffee shop in a residential “Neighbourhood” — like, for example, Contra at 1028 Shaw Street — you might spend a few years fighting with your neighbors and battling it out at LPAT hearings in order to get the appropriate permissions.

    I’m not necessarily suggesting that we should do away with all zoning (or maybe I am). But I would like to draw your attention to this contrast. Because one has to wonder whether RéRestaurante Dona Suzana would exist today and be known around the world had the barriers to entry not been so low for her. Of course, had there been more rules, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten stiffed the first time around.

    Either way, I am currently in the market for some dende oil.

    Photo by Milo Miloezger on Unsplash

  • Deferring development charges on a laneway suite

    Currently, if you’re building an Ancillary Secondary Dwelling Unit (such as a laneway suite) in the City of Toronto, you can defer the payment of any development charges for 20 years from the date that a building permit is issued for the unit. But really what this means is that, if you don’t do anything bad for 20 years (event of default), you won’t have to pay anything. The payable charge goes to $0 at the end of the term and the agreement goes away. Cool.

    So what are some of the bad things that you’re not supposed to do?

    Well the main thing is that you’re not allowed to create a new lot at any point during the 20-year deferral period. This is because the laneway suite policies are designed to encourage the creation of new rental housing and not new for sale housing. So you can’t sever off the back of your lot. The other thing you need to do is make sure that if you were to ever sell your property that the new owner(s) assumes these same obligations.

    This all makes sense.

    There is some fine print to consider. The payable development charge amount that the City enters into these agreements is the rate for single detached dwellings. Currently that figure is $76,830. This is more than double what you would have to pay if you, well, just paid the DCs for your ancillary secondary unit instead of deferring them. The reason for this is because, if you do do something bad such as sever your property, you’ve now no longer built an ancillary secondary unit. You’ve built a detached dwelling. Rates go up.

    Moral of the story: Don’t create a new lot. For more information on the program, click here.

    P.S. I’m not a lawyer. Please don’t take this post as any sort of legal advice. This post was also revised from its original version to correct a misunderstanding on my part.

  • “Missing middle” units represented 1% of all residential units proposed between 2014 and 2018

    As many of you already know, the City of Toronto is currently studying ways to increase the supply of “missing middle” type housing in our low-rise neighborhoods. This week they published a new report called, “Expanding Housing Options in Neighbourhoods.” The Globe and Mail has already written about it over here, but I would like to share some numbers from the report to help put things into context. All of these are verbatim from the City’s report. I’m just arranging them neatly into blocks.

    Development applications active between 2014 and 2018 were reviewed to identify those representing “missing middle” housing typologies, i.e. more than 1 proposed residential unit and 3-6 storeys. 144 “missing middle” applications out of 508 total active applications in Neighbourhoods were identified during this time frame.

    The missing middle applications represent 5,090 units approved or built in Neighbourhoods. The vast majority of these applications—94% of applications and 89% of proposed residential units—are 4 storeys or less, consistent with the general height limits for Neighbourhoods in the Official Plan.

    Of the 5,090 proposed residential units, almost half were part of large site redevelopment projects, often townhouse subdivisions on former school sites in inner suburban areas of
    Scarborough, Etobicoke, and North York. The remaining half of proposed missing middle type units were in lowrise intensification and infill of existing housing, with activity clustered primarily within the former City of Toronto.

    The approximately 5,000 missing middle type units in development applications represent
    approximately 1% of the 400,000 total proposed residential units in projects active between 2014 and 2018
    , while the approximately 2,500 net new units added through as-of-right building permits from 2011 to 2018 represent only 0.6% of the total proposed residential units.

    One percent. I guess that’s why it’s called the missing middle.

  • The America we need

    The New York Times is running an opinion series right now called, The America We Need. It is all about how the US might emerge from this crisis “with a fair, resilient society.” This piece by Carol Galante covers many of the topics that we discuss on this blog. Carol is a former city planner and nonprofit housing developer. She is now the faculty director of the Terner Center for Housing Innovation at UC, Berkeley. Here are a couple of excerpts from her article that I think will resonate with many of you:

    There are two things we know: The U.S. economy will recover. And the recovery will start in and be strongest in the same cities that were thriving before the pandemic. Economies in places like Seattle, San Francisco, New York and Boston are driven by the innovation, technology and biotech sectors, which are proving to be remarkably resilient to the impacts of Covid-19.

    We have an obligation to ignore the short-term reactionary impulse to blame density for the spread of the coronavirus and instead use this opportunity to rethink the policies that impede the construction of new housing, at more price levels, in the places where housing is most needed.

    In my subsequent career as a nonprofit housing developer working in prosperous coastal California communities, I spent far too many nights in City Council meetings working to get apartment buildings for lower-income older people and families approved. Underlying the “density” battle was almost always a battle over who has access to the opportunities of a place and who doesn’t, cloaked in arguments about neighborhood character and traffic impacts.

  • How coffee grew São Paulo

    For all of us who are involved in the building of cities, it is important to remember that cities emerge and thrive as a result of economic purpose. Take, for example, Sao Paulo. Once one of the poorest of Portuguese colonies, it is today the largest city in the southern hemisphere and one of the largest and most diverse urban agglomerations in the world.

    How did all of this happen? It was probably because of coffee.

    Brazil is the largest producer of coffee in the world. And it has owned this title for some 150 years. The best areas to grow coffee (as a result of climate, I’m told) are in the southeast part of the country, in and around Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. The inland state of Minas Gerais is the biggest producer.

    But here’s the thing. Rio de Janeiro is along the coast and Sao Paulo is not, though as of 1869 it had been connected to the port of Santos by rail. This geographical feature made Sao Paulo a logical place for rail to converge as it made its way from the coffee plantations in the interior of the country to the coast, and then out to the rest of the world.

    Coffee was the economic purpose. And it was facilitated by Brazil’s longstanding use of slave labor.

    In 1888 that changed. Slavery was abolished, giving Brazil the dubious distinction of being the last country in the Western world to do so. The problem is that the coffee industry relied heavily on this labor. So to fill this void and keep the coffee industry happy, a deliberate effort was made to increase immigration.

    From 1870 to 2010, about 2.3 million immigrants settled in the state of Sao Paulo, many from Italy and Japan. Today, about half of the city is thought to have at least some Italian ancestry. And it is generally believed that it was this significant influx of immigrants that helped the city to industrialize in the way that it did.

    Big and diverse. And coffee probably had a lot to do with it.

    Photo by ViniLowRaw on Unsplash

  • Eliminating single-family zoning

    There is something happening in many North American cities right now. We are starting to question the supremacy of zoning for only single-family homes.

    This past summer, the state of Oregon passed policy requiring cities of 25,000 people or more to allow duplexes, triplexes, and fourplexes within their single-family home neighborhoods. Minneapolis is poised to do something similar with its Minneapolis 2040 plan (though it has been contentious). And, of course, here in Toronto we recently rolled out laneway suites all across the city. Small scale multi-family dwellings are also already permissible in some areas (though few are being built).

    Some are calling this a YIMBY movement. But however you want to define it, it’s an acknowledgement that, if the goal is to built up instead of out, perhaps it’s time we look at the parts of our cities with the lowest population densities. I would also add that following my recent post on Paris vs. Vancouver, many seemed to gravitate (in the comments) toward the Parisian model — even if it did result in over 50,000 people per square kilometer. Density, it would appear, is okay.

    While positive, it remains to be seen whether these policy changes will result in a meaningful increase in housing supply. And a lot of that will come down to the details. As I have said before on the blog, the math can be challenging on these sorts of smaller projects, which is why you have smart people proposing things like an “inverse density” rule to help encourage more smaller scale development.

    But as the saying goes, sometimes you need to crawl before you can walk. And, if nothing else, there’s certainly symbolic value to what seems to be taking hold across North America right now.

  • A small site solution: Inverse Density

    My recent post about minimum project sizes triggered some great follow-up discussions over email. Today, I learned about a Master Plan that was recently completed for Little Havana, Miami by the urban design and planning firm Plusurbia.

    In it, they try to address some of the problems that I described in my post through something they call “Inverse Density.” Given the tendencies toward larger projects, they are proposing to incentivize the development of smaller and underused lots with more density.

    The idea being that if you can encourage more smaller scale development, you can actually help to protect the character of a place. In 2017, the National Trust for Historic Preservation declared the neighborhood a national treasure.

    Here’s a screenshot from the plan:

    What you are seeing here is existing vs. proposed policies. The proposed scenarios both result in higher densities, even though the lots are smaller. Alongside this, they are proposing to get rid of parking minimums for lots less than 7,500 sf.

    It’s an intriguing idea and I’m glad they shared it with me. If you’d like to download a copy of the full Little Havana Master Plan, click here.

  • Using tweets to measure social connectedness in cities

    This recent study used geotagged tweets to measure social connectedness within American cities. There are two measures: (1) concentrated mobility and (2) equitable mobility. The first measures the extent to which social connections (geotagged tweets) are concentrated in a set of places within the city. And the second looks at the degree in which people move between neighborhoods in roughly similar proportions. These measures are the y-axis and the x-axis, respectively, in this graph:

    So how do you read this chart?

    Well if you look at New York, you’ll see that it is relatively high in concentrated mobility, but the lowest in terms of equitable mobility. This means that social connections are highly concentrated and that there’s low connectedness to other neighborhoods within the city. Miami, on the other hand, is the opposite. It’s also an outlier. Few hubs. But its social connections appear to cross neighborhoods and spread across the city.

    Perhaps not surprisingly, the study found that the size of a city seems to have the biggest impact on social connectedness. Which makes sense — it becomes harder to get around and so people start to localize. I am reminded of this whenever my friends in Los Angeles tell me they never go to the beach because it’s simply too difficult and too time consuming to get across the city.

    This also became clear to me after I started playing around with the Moves App back in 2015. The app no longer exists, but it was an activity tracker that allowed you to map where you, well, moved. And the more time you spent in one place, the more concentrated the activity would become. They depicted this through larger and larger circles. Example maps, here. My maps revealed that I need to branch out into different neighborhoods more often.

    To download a full copy of the study, click here.

    Chart: CityLab