In yesterday's post I spoke about the practice of buying land, rezoning it for a higher-and-better use, and then selling it for a margin. It may not make economic sense to do this in the current market, but it remains an important step in the delivery of new homes and other forms of real assets. Before you can build, you need entitled land.
But as I have mentioned before, there are people who look down upon this practice. They view it as a form of land speculation; one that just drives up land prices and doesn't ultimately create anything of tangible value. They might even go so far as to say that, if this is what you do, then you aren't actually a real estate developer!
Of course, this would be false and it shows a lack of understanding of how development works. It's also insulting to developers who work hard in this part of the business.
Let's consider Wikipedia's definition of development:
Real estate development, or property development, is a business process, encompassing activities that range from the renovation and re-lease of existing buildings to the purchase of raw land and the sale of developed land or parcels to others. Real estate developers are the people and companies who coordinate all of these activities, converting ideas from paper to real property. Real estate development is different from construction or housebuilding, although many developers also manage the construction process or engage in housebuilding.
The two most important points for this discussion are bolded. One, development includes a range of activities that might include the sale of land or parcels to others. And two, real estate development is distinct from construction or housebuilding. So the more accurate way to describe a developer who sells land and doesn't build is to call them a developer who isn't also a builder. It's that simple.
But more important than nomenclature is the fact that there's nothing inherently wrong with securing development approvals and then passing off the land to a builder to complete the rest. Somebody has to do it.
Entitling a site often takes years — sometimes even decades. It’s a process that creates value and serves as a prerequisite to building new homes. Whether it’s done by one company or two shouldn’t matter.
Cover photo by Alexander Tsang on Unsplash
At the end of last year, I wrote this post arguing that development value has shifted from land to the build. And in it, I argued that it's no longer viable to be a high-density land developer in Toronto. The practice of buying land, rezoning it for a higher-and-better use, and then selling it for a margin, is over — at least for the time being.
It's also not easy to find value in the execution of new builds, but it's a better place to be looking. Because today, as we underwrite new development sites, we are seeing land prices (on a per buildable square foot) that are similar to what they were back in 2017 when we were assembling the land for Junction House. Meaning that, in some cases, land prices have been nearly flat over this 8 year period. This is despite a total inflation rate of approximately 25% and an average annual decline in the value of money of 2.86%.
This is not all that surprising, though. Land should, in theory, be the residual claimant in a development pro forma; so it should be one of the first things to reset during a market downturn. However, in the past, I have referred to land prices as being sticky in the face of changing cost structures, such as development charge increases and/or new inclusionary zoning policies. So which is it, Brandon?
Well, one way I think about this is that land prices tend to be sticky in the short term. Nobody wants to immediately take a loss. And as long as prices/rents continue to exhibit strong growth, there's a chance that these new costs will get absorbed into somebody's pro forma and that land prices won't need to adjust downward. But turn off demand and reverse price/rent growth, and now there's no other option but for land prices to come down.
This is what we've been seeing in Toronto since 2022.
Cover photo by Adam Vradenburg on Unsplash
After seeing this beautiful 6-storey and 21-unit social housing project in Lyon, I decided to retweet it and share the fact that we recently had a site under contract in Toronto with the intention of doing a very similar build. We wouldn't have been able to do the same outdoor spaces at the corner, but it was going to be 6 storeys and without any setbacks. The overall dimensions appear to be similar.
However, in the end, we had to drop the site because the margins were simply too thin. I was disappointed. Of course, some people responded to my quote retweet by calling this an example of developer greed. But once again, I don't think most people understand how development economics work. If the margins are too thin it, among other things, means:
It's going to be hard/impossible to raise capital and finance the project
You might be better off buying a "risk-free" government bond instead
That unexpected situations could sink the project (i.e. you lose money)
To give a specific example, let's assume that your expected base case rent at the time of occupancy is $4.75 psf. This would mean that if your average suite size is around 600 sf (which ours was), you would need a face rent of about $2,850 per month.
But what happens if you're off by only $0.25 and your face rent for this same 600 sf apartment is now $2,700 per month at initial lease up? $150 per month may not seem like a big deal, but it is. If you capitalize this income at something like a 4% rate, you will find that it becomes material.
This is what I mean by "the margins are too thin." And it's similar to any other professional not wanting to take on a job because they might lose money or because it's "not worth their time." It's about managing risk and understanding the opportunity cost of taking on such a project.