One of the trademarks of Tokyo's urban landscape is a lot of exterior exit stairs. For example, our hotel is almost 20 storeys and it has two exit stairs, both of which sit outside of the building. Here's a photo taken from the corridor. You can also see other buildings in the background with similar exit stair configurations.

Oftentimes these stairs will also be positioned on a building's primary elevation, making them form part of the overall architectural expression. There's no shame in doing that here. This is curious to me because it means that, on tight urban sites, you're giving up part of your frontage to egress. The alternative would be to burry it in the middle of the building and have it transfer over at some point.
In any event, my first thought when I see a lot of exterior circulation is usually that the place must have a mild climate. And indeed, this is true of Tokyo. The average January and February lows and highs are 10 degrees and 5 degrees, respectively. Snow is extremely rare here. But that doesn't seem to be what's driving this egress approach.
Because if you go up north to Sapporo, where they get upwards of 500cm of snow each year, it too has exterior exit stairs. Closer to home, there's also the example of Montreal, which is similarly known for its exterior stairs (both in its older housing stock and in some of its newer housing stock). So it can't just be a weather thing.
The more likely hypothesis is that it's simply cheaper and easier to build this way. There may also be local regulations that either directly or indirectly encourage it, beyond it just being more cost effective. Interestingly enough, though, exterior stairs don't seem to be as common in newer buildings (but this is just my anecdotal observation from the last few days).
We talk a lot these days about single-stair buildings. And I think it's clear that we need to start allowing this for larger infill projects. But Tokyo also has me wondering if we should be having a parallel conversation about more open-air exit stairs and corridors. Climate is clearly no excuse. If it can help bring down the cost of building, then it's something to consider.

Space comes at a premium in Tokyo. So today, let's take a look at our hotel room, including some of its dimensions. The smallest room in our hotel is 12 m2 (~129 ft2). But we sprung for the 20 m2 (~215 ft2) room given that we have two big ski/snowboard bags with us.
When you walk into our room, there is a foyer where you naturally remove your outside shoes and put on your inside shoes. There's also a continuous hook for hanging coats, which seems to be a common detail throughout Tokyo. This area measures 1060mm (3'5") wide by 2119mm (6'11") deep and has a clear height of 2170mm (7'1").

One of the trademarks of Tokyo's urban landscape is a lot of exterior exit stairs. For example, our hotel is almost 20 storeys and it has two exit stairs, both of which sit outside of the building. Here's a photo taken from the corridor. You can also see other buildings in the background with similar exit stair configurations.

Oftentimes these stairs will also be positioned on a building's primary elevation, making them form part of the overall architectural expression. There's no shame in doing that here. This is curious to me because it means that, on tight urban sites, you're giving up part of your frontage to egress. The alternative would be to burry it in the middle of the building and have it transfer over at some point.
In any event, my first thought when I see a lot of exterior circulation is usually that the place must have a mild climate. And indeed, this is true of Tokyo. The average January and February lows and highs are 10 degrees and 5 degrees, respectively. Snow is extremely rare here. But that doesn't seem to be what's driving this egress approach.
Because if you go up north to Sapporo, where they get upwards of 500cm of snow each year, it too has exterior exit stairs. Closer to home, there's also the example of Montreal, which is similarly known for its exterior stairs (both in its older housing stock and in some of its newer housing stock). So it can't just be a weather thing.
The more likely hypothesis is that it's simply cheaper and easier to build this way. There may also be local regulations that either directly or indirectly encourage it, beyond it just being more cost effective. Interestingly enough, though, exterior stairs don't seem to be as common in newer buildings (but this is just my anecdotal observation from the last few days).
We talk a lot these days about single-stair buildings. And I think it's clear that we need to start allowing this for larger infill projects. But Tokyo also has me wondering if we should be having a parallel conversation about more open-air exit stairs and corridors. Climate is clearly no excuse. If it can help bring down the cost of building, then it's something to consider.

Space comes at a premium in Tokyo. So today, let's take a look at our hotel room, including some of its dimensions. The smallest room in our hotel is 12 m2 (~129 ft2). But we sprung for the 20 m2 (~215 ft2) room given that we have two big ski/snowboard bags with us.
When you walk into our room, there is a foyer where you naturally remove your outside shoes and put on your inside shoes. There's also a continuous hook for hanging coats, which seems to be a common detail throughout Tokyo. This area measures 1060mm (3'5") wide by 2119mm (6'11") deep and has a clear height of 2170mm (7'1").


You then step up to the main room area, which has tatami flooring throughout. It's obvious that you shouldn't cross this threshold with your outside shoes on. Here the clear height compresses down to 2069mm (6'9") because of the raised floor and because of some HVAC above. I wonder if there are any services running under the floor. Presumably they made use of the space.
The toilet/shower room is 1886mm (6'2") wide by 1235mm (4'0") deep and has the same ceiling height as above. As expected, the toilet is very fancy, it has a heated seat, and it will do whatever it takes to ensure that you leave this compact room with a tidy bum. The control pad is also fairly intuitive to use.


The main living/sleeping area of the room is 2783mm (9'1") wide by 3351mm (10'11") deep, which is roughly the size of a Toronto apartment bedroom. This room also has a TV, desk area, and the bathroom sink. The ceiling height opens up to 2395mm (7'10") in this area.

It's worth highlighting that the desk height is just under 24" and the vanity countertop height is about 26". These are very low compared to Western standards and I can certainly feel it in my back.
In my view, it's this vertical dimension which represents the biggest design difference compared to what I'm accustomed to. Surfaces are low and the ceiling heights are compressed. Because otherwise, I've stayed in even smaller rooms in Paris and in other places. It's very comfortable and we would certainly stay here again.

You then step up to the main room area, which has tatami flooring throughout. It's obvious that you shouldn't cross this threshold with your outside shoes on. Here the clear height compresses down to 2069mm (6'9") because of the raised floor and because of some HVAC above. I wonder if there are any services running under the floor. Presumably they made use of the space.
The toilet/shower room is 1886mm (6'2") wide by 1235mm (4'0") deep and has the same ceiling height as above. As expected, the toilet is very fancy, it has a heated seat, and it will do whatever it takes to ensure that you leave this compact room with a tidy bum. The control pad is also fairly intuitive to use.


The main living/sleeping area of the room is 2783mm (9'1") wide by 3351mm (10'11") deep, which is roughly the size of a Toronto apartment bedroom. This room also has a TV, desk area, and the bathroom sink. The ceiling height opens up to 2395mm (7'10") in this area.

It's worth highlighting that the desk height is just under 24" and the vanity countertop height is about 26". These are very low compared to Western standards and I can certainly feel it in my back.
In my view, it's this vertical dimension which represents the biggest design difference compared to what I'm accustomed to. Surfaces are low and the ceiling heights are compressed. Because otherwise, I've stayed in even smaller rooms in Paris and in other places. It's very comfortable and we would certainly stay here again.
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