Here's a timely article talking about the difference between 7-Eleven stores in North America versus Japan, and why the Canadian company, Alimentation Couche-Tard, wants to buy the Japanese company for $47 billion:

So far, owner Seven & i Holdings Co. hasn’t been able to replicate that success at its 13,000 US and Canadian stores, better known for their constantly rolling hot dogs and 30-ounce soft drinks than their fresh food or their ability to inspire effusive posts from social media influencers. The Tokyo-based company, which has been closing underperforming North American stores faster than it’s been opening new ones, is now the target of a $47 billion takeover bid by a Canadian rival that says it can do a better job translating that overseas magic to the market.

I have no idea if this will happen, but Couche-Tard has been trying to buy the company since 2005. If successful, this will create the largest convenience store operator in the world. It will also go down as one of the largest foreign takeovers in Japan. (On a related note, Couche-Tard tried to buy French grocery chain Carrefour SA in 2021, but that was blocked by the French Finance Minister.)

What is clear, though, is that there's an obvious user-experience gap between the stores in Japan and the stores in Canada and the US. As we talked about here, convenience stores in Japan serve solid food and act very much as community hubs. I didn't know this until right now, but in Japan, people also use these stores to do things like send parcels and pay utility bills, and top chefs regularly judge the food.

However, this is based on a supply-chain network that is, at least right now, unique to Japan:

In Japan, which is much smaller, the chain relies on a robust supplier network, where inventory and food preparation take place at more than 150 factories churning out breakfast, lunch and dinner. Product lineups and displays change quickly based on consumer tastes, with each store responsible for analyzing the sales of every product and adjusting orders to reduce waste and control inventory. It’s a management method known as tanpin kanri, which was even taken up as a Harvard Business School case study. “Japan’s convenience stores’ food preparation central kitchens and logistics infrastructure would be more challenging to establish and operate efficiently over vast areas in the US,” Boston says.

There appears to be universal consensus that the key to unlocking additional value is more fresh food and overall better offerings. And presumably Couche-Tard is of the opinion that it will be a better operator and that it can figure out whatever supply chain is needed. Time will tell. But I find it interesting that all of this is arguably about creating a kind of "local corner store" that better serves people's needs.

Cities used to have these in spades. But then we zoned them away, scaled everything up, and optimized around rolling hot dog cookers and big gulps. So in many ways, this story is about a return to fundamentals. It's about figuring out a way to serve quality products to local neighborhoods, in a globalized world. That sounds simple enough, but it's clearly not easy.

Cover photo by Lisanto 李奕良 on Unsplash

Cities should do what they can to allow the smallest of interventions.

What I mean by this is that -- when it comes to our urban environment -- small and granular is usually a good thing. It's why our historic main streets tend to be better urban streets than the ones we are creating today from scratch. They were built at a time when cities were more compact and it was more feasible to build small. Now, intuitively, we know this to be true. It's why planners will encourage things like "fine-grained retail" and impose maximum areas for each CRU (commercial-retail unit). It's to try and recreate how things were done before.

But at the same time, we (as cities) also do lots of things that make it more difficult to go small. Every hurdle means that you need that much bigger of a project in order to make it worth while for a developer or small-business owner. Take for example Toronto's current debate over allowing small-scale retail shops in residential neighborhoods. This is a perfect place for smaller businesses. The rents should be lower than on any major street. But only if we don't erect too many barriers.

To this end, here's a project and coffee shop in Córdoba, Argentina that I have liked since it was completed back in 2021. Designed by Estudio Rare, which is one of ArchDaily's Best New Practices for this year, the building is situated on a triangular piece of leftover land created by its orthogonal neighbors. The resulting footprint is only about 4 square meters, which is somewhere around half the size of a typical Toronto condominium bedroom. So it's the kind of "site" that could have been easily forgotten and left to collect garbage. And yet, the architect, client, and operator made something work.

Here's the ground floor plan:

And here's a street view image from May 2024:

Now, I don't know what hurdles the project team had to jump through to build and operate this coffee shop. Maybe there were very few or maybe there were many. If any of you are from Argentina and familiar with the planning landscape, maybe you can let me know. But for the purposes of this post, it doesn't really matter. The simple point is that these kind of small-scale developments are a positive thing for cities. It doesn't matter that the footprint is only half the size of a small bedroom. It's a place to stop for coffee and a place to linger on the street with others.

Images via Estudio Rare

Marrakech is one of the most frenetic, vibrant, and exciting cities that I have been to in a long time. Walking through the Medina means walking on streets that are only a few meters wide, but that are still somehow filled to the brim.

Filled with a beautiful cacophony of people, smells, and merchants, selling everything from leather sandals to engine parts. Filled with an endless supply of people vying aggressively for your attention (and who all seem to coincidentally have a relative in Toronto). And filled with motorbikes that are liable to ride over your feet if only you let your guard down for a second.

Sensory overload. It is at the same time exhausting and one of the coolest experiences ever.

Another name for these streets would be "shared streets," which is a way of saying that the formal distinctions between areas dedicated to pedestrians, cyclists, and motorists have been removed. While they are intended to be pedestrian-oriented, the overall approach is that all users just, you know, figure it out. Today, this is viewed as an enlightened approach to street design. Though it's clearly not a new one.

I will, however, be the first to admit that it's easy to feel like an uptight Canadian in the Medina of Marrakech. This thought definitely crossed my mind: "I can't believe they let motorbikes rip through these tiny streets." You can see why somebody at some point felt it might be a good idea to carefully segregate uses.

At the same time, the architecture of Morocco feels like the perfect complement to these chaotic streets. Notably inward facing, the central feature of a traditional riad is its courtyard. These spaces offer much-needed protection from the hot Moroccan sun, but they also allow for family privacy, which is something that is important in this culture.

The result is that you immediately feel it every time you walk inside. You have now entered a beautiful and calm oasis in the middle of a frenetic and exciting city.