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.
The momentum around wanting mixed-use laneways in Toronto continues, or the algorithms just know what gets me going. Either way, I continue to be both impressed and surprised by the number of “hidden” laneway-based businesses that exist in this city and that keep surfacing online.
I honestly think that someone should create a directory/mapping of these businesses. If anyone wants to do this or help do this, I own lanewaylove.com and I’ve been reserving it for projects just like this.
I also think that this has the potential to become a hallmark of Toronto urbanism. It’s already somewhat endemic, it would seem. So imagine what will happen once we actually allow and encourage these uses to their fullest extent. Yes, once.
If you know of any other laneway-based businesses, whether here in Toronto or in your city, please share them in the comment section below.
One of the reasons why “new small-scale retail, service, and office uses” are now permitted in low-rise neighborhoods of Toronto — and why many are on to talking about these uses in our laneways — is because it’s a way to serve the “needs of residents” and “reduce local automobile trips”. But what are these needs exactly? And if you had to choose only one, what would it be?
Let me provide some further background.
According to this mapping, 94% of Parisians live within a 5-minute walk of a bakery. And according to this mapping, 94% of people in Mexico City live within a 5-minute walk of a taqueria. So in other words, these two cities seem to have the kind of “small-scale retail, service, and office uses” that satisfy at least some of the needs of their residents.
People in Paris need bread. And people in Mexico City need tacos. But what do people in Toronto need? I’m not sure we have a perfectly parallel thing. But according to Instacart, the top-selling grocery item last year across both the US and Canada was — bananas. One and four carts typically contain them, and apparently this number has remained fairly consistent.
So maybe this should be our small-scale retail and walkability test metric: What % of the population lives within a 5-minute walk of fresh bananas? (I’m open to other food suggestions here.)
Up until last year, non-residential uses within Toronto’s low-rise neighborhoods were typically legal non-confirming uses. Meaning, the use wasn’t technically allowed, but if it had been there for a long and continuous time, we would let it slide and say it’s legal.
Then we decided that small-scale retail, service, and office uses might be kind of good in our neighborhoods. Especially if they empower people to perform their daily necessities without a car. So we agreed to allow these sorts of uses provided they don’t annoy too many people.
But what about in Toronto’s laneways? Can and should they go there, too?
But we need to get out of the way and we need small and affordable spaces. Which is why it’s hard to imagine a more ideal place than in our laneways, especially considering that there’s a long history of these spaces being used for exactly this. (Read this recent article by John Lorinc.)
Fortunately, this idea continues to gain positive momentum, thanks to people like the late Michelle Senayah (co-founder of the Laneway Project) and Blair Scorgie (a partner at Sajecki Planning). So in my mind, it’s only a matter of time before we start getting out of the way.
Montréal had its first snowstorm of the season this week, and if you look on X, you’ll find images and videos like these:
Interesting how people project based on wherever they're from. No one could come to central Montreal in the winter and not see lots of cyclists. Not the same volumes as summer but it's still common and visible. pic.twitter.com/wpntL8QzHY
What’s remarkable is the number of people who, at least from these tweets, continue to cycle in the winter. In fact, in the above video, there looks to be more bikes on the road than cars. Plowed lanes certainly help!
According to the city of Montréal, about 80% of the network is maintained for year-round use (717 km of its 900 km network). But I’m sure that there are a lot of people who still can’t imagine anyone wanting to cycle in these conditions. So what is the actual winter usage?
Thankfully, Montréal has bike counters. 55 of them to be exact. And all of the data can be viewed, here. The busiest location is Saint Denis and Rue des Carrières. This falls within their Réseau Express Vélo (REV) network, which is a series of protected lanes intended to do what the name suggests.
The daily average for this counter is currently 4,403 riders, but the summer peak looks to be closer to 10,000. And this year, it has seen close to 1.5 million rides in total. This is a significant number. I mean, imagine 1.5 million more car trips on the road.
Looking at yesterday’s data, the daily count was 1,292. If you very crudely divide this by my 10,000 summer peak estimate, you get to around 13%. And this happens to line up with what seems to be the city’s generally accepted winter cycling retention ratio.
Not surprisingly, fewer people want to cycle in the winter. But the number is not nothing. If you multiple 1,292 cycling trips by 120 days (roughly December to March), that’s still over 150,000 trips (I know, I didn’t account for weekends). On top of this, the city’s winter cycling retention rate appears to be increasing.
So just because you may not want to cycle to work in the winter, it doesn’t necessarily mean that others feel the same way.
There are many ways to describe one of the prevailing urban forms emerging across the Greater Toronto Area. You could call it spiky urbanism. You could call it a collection of peaks and plains. Or — as it is referred to in this recent article by Alex Bozikovic about “turning the suburb into the city” — you could call it cruise ship urbanity:
These megaprojects are where Toronto has chosen to cram much of its new growth – “cruise ships of urbanity,” as Mr. Giannone told me, in a sea of houses. As such they provide an opportunity to create citylike density and activity.
What we are talking about is a dichotomous form of urbanism: high-density mixed-use nodes surrounded by low-rise car-oriented communities. And on many levels, this makes a lot of sense, especially if the cruise ship happens to be docked on top of a transit station. This is where density needs to go. If you have a transit station without much density, that should be addressed immediately.
But it also presents a great challenge. If transportation planning is necessarily land use planning, then we are dealing with two very different kinds of land use patterns and, therefore, two very different kinds of mobility demands. You can address this by making the cruise ship as self-sufficient and pleasant as possible, but eventually someone will want or need to get off the ship.
Does that mean they will then need a car?
You don’t have this same problem with more consistent forms of urbanism. Consider, for example, cities like Paris and Barcelona. These are dense cities, but more importantly they are, for the most part, uniformly dense. Or at least, uniformly dense enough. Meaning that you can probably apply a more uniform transportation strategy. What works in one part of the city is likely to work in other parts too.
Of course, we could also apply a uniform transportation strategy to our urban cruise ships. Given that they exist in a sea of low-rise houses, we could simply say that each urban cruise ship resident should also have their own parking space (1:1 ratio). The solution: everyone drives! But this, to me, seems like an insane long-term solution.
In my view, the most impactful solution lies not in the ships themselves, but in the seas surrounding them. We need to look holistically at our entire city region and determine what it will take to turn suburb into city. And that likely means a whole host of things, ranging from leveraging the infrastructure we already have (i.e. upzoning around transit stations) to embracing autonomous vehicles.
In the end, I don’t think we want cruise ships of urbanity. We need more density, everywhere.
I was recently on Monocle Radio (The Urbanist) talking with Andrew Tuck about our Steelport project in Hamilton, Ontario. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Steelport is a new 800-acre industrial development on the city’s waterfront (almost the size of Central Park in Manhattan). Slate acquired the site in 2022 and, when fully built out, it is expected to create up to 23,000 new jobs and nearly $4 billion in economic activity for the Ontario economy. To have a listen to the interview, click here. It’s only about 8 minutes.
Thanks for having me on the episode, Monocle. But more importantly, a shout-out to my colleague Steven Dejonckheere. He lives and breathes this project every day, and is the real mind behind it.
During the pandemic, there was a lot of erroneous talk about the death of cities. Much like when the consumer internet first came around, the thinking was that technology would make geography irrelevant. I was and am vehemently against this idea, but it’s hard to not feel like technology is doing something. But what exactly? According to Richard Florida, Vladislav Boutenko, Antoine Vetrano, and Sara Saloo, it is creating something called the Meta City:
The various communities that make up the Meta City may be in different time zones and noncontiguous locations, but they function together as a coherent network with a distinct structure and logic. The Meta City combines physical and virtual agglomeration, in seeming defiance of the laws of physics, making it possible to occupy more than one space at the same time. As a result, urban areas within the Meta City network can share economic and social functions.
The narrative is compelling. Cities have always responded to and been a product of new mobility technologies. Streetcars, subways, and the car have all reshaped the geography of our cities. Some would argue for the worse. What the Meta City proposes is that technology today is not a disruptor of cities, it is simply another mobility shift. Rather than make cities irrelevant, it actually makes them more important by expanding their reach:
The pandemic-era shift to remote work is yet another technology stretching the boundaries of the city into a new and larger geographic unit. But instead of doing so physically, it does so by enabling virtual expansion. The share of American workers engaged in remote work tripled from roughly 6% in 2019 to almost 18% in 2021. Remote workers can access significant quality of life at far more affordable prices in smaller cities, suburbs, and rural areas.
Some specific examples:
Many of these rising places are critically connected to established cities. As we will see, Austin’s rise is best understood as a satellite of San Francisco’s long-established tech hub. Miami is enmeshed in New York City’s finance and real estate complex. The rise of the Meta City informs a counterintuitive logic: Leading superstar cities are seeing their role as economic hub expand, even as some talent and some industry disperse to satellite centers.
Finally, here’s their ranking:
If you believe this to be true, then it should be good news for the real estate located in the cities listed above. But it also means that we are now facing a new kind of hub-and-spoke model of urbanism. London and New York remain at the center, but tech is only strengthening their reach and influence. This is a new way of thinking about the flow of human capital around the world, and I’m sure it will have impacts on how we plan and build our cities.
The first is that cities need to spend way more time understanding the economics of missing middle housing. As Uytae Lee says in the video, our land use policies need to respond to real math and overall financial viability.
The second is that there’s real potential here. Uytae gives the example of Auckland which, according to the video, managed to deliver 20,000 new missing middle homes in a 5-year time period.
This is meaningful! And, it is suggested that this has reduced rents in the city by somewhere between 13-35% compared to where they might have gone had this new housing not been built.
As I’ve said many times before on the blog, the devil is in the details. The headline may sound really great that some city is now allowing 4 or 6 homes on every single-family lot, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that any new homes will actually be built.
It’s important we change that.
P.S. Thanks to Michael Geller for sharing this video with me.
In this particular case — Tokyo — the building type is referred to as zakkyo. And apparently, it is something that emerged over time:
Another is the city’s iconic multistory zakkyo buildings covered in neon signs, like those lining the famous Yasukuni Avenue, which house a spectacular variety of businesses. Zakkyo largely started out as office buildings and transformed over time to house everything from mahjong parlors to karaoke boxes. Almazán and McReynolds point out that these buildings offer a density of destinations rarely found in the West because they offer a vertical—not just a horizontal— dimension to walkability, with elevators that open onto the street and take customers directly up to businesses. Zakkyo are on narrow lots that pull pedestrians along the streets that they line. Unlike larger U.S. office buildings, their small lot sizes also facilitate the easy reuse of zakkyo space for different purposes.
Okay, so small lot sizes seem to help. But what else is needed? Is there a world where this is possible anywhere in the West? It’s probably hard to imagine. Conventional real estate wisdom would tell you that multi-storey retail buildings don’t work.
But they work in Tokyo, and probably for two reasons. The first is density. Tokyo is dense and I am told that zakkyo buildings tend to emerge around train stations, where foot traffic is high and people are generally looking for things to do and/or consume.
The second has to do with rules. Tokyo has an overall policy framework that allows for micro-spaces and micro-businesses. Said oppositely, Tokyo hasn’t erected so many barriers that the only way to open a business is with scale and lots of money.
Liquor licenses are a perfect example:
Liquor licenses are one starting point. In US cities, a full liquor license can cost you as much as $400,000! Just absurd amounts of money. And if you're putting in that much cash, you need a large-scale plan to make your money back. In Japan, alcohol is the lifeblood of microbiz
So maybe these are possible in the West, after all. Assuming you have any sort of meaningful pedestrian density, the only real prerequisite might be to just get out of the way of small business.
And I think this is a powerful way to think about cities. We often think about doing new things to elicit certain outcomes. But what outcomes are we missing out on and not seeing because of the rules that we’ve already put in place?
“…he took the department through significant reforms: allowing new houses in back laneways, then garden suites; eliminating minimum parking requirements; even legalizing four-unit apartment buildings on any lot in the city.“
All of this was not easy, as anyone in our industry will attest.
I also got to know Gregg, a little, by way of our development projects. And I can say that he (1) genuinely loved our great city and (2) was always looking for ways to make things better, whether that be through planning policy or through processes internal to City Hall.
