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.
This is an interesting article by ArchDaily, looking at the “evolution of the house plan in Europe” between 1760 and 1939. The article focuses on London, Paris, Amsterdam, and Moscow and includes floor plans, photographs, as well as well-known illustrations like the one shown above. Created by Bertall in 1845, the drawing shows a section through a Parisian house and is called The Five Floors of the Parisian World.
What it shows is the declining opulence that used to exist in Paris’ apartment blocks as you moved upward. If you were rich, you lived on the second floor, right above the ground floor lobby. The ceilings were higher on this floor and maybe had a balcony overlooking the street. If you lived on the third floor it meant that you were a less rich. And if you lived in the top floor attic, you were poor. That is what this comic is showing.
Now, all of this changed over time as new technologies, namely the elevator, were brought to multi-family buildings. All of a sudden it became convenient to live higher up and all of a sudden people wanted better views and to get further away from the chaos of the street. What I’m curious about, though, is how posterity dealt with the lower ceiling heights on these upper floors.
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.
Real estate brokerage firm Redfin recently did an analysis of “mortgage-rate lock data” taken from the analytics firm Optimal Blue. A mortgage-rate lock is an agreement between a lender and a borrower guaranteeing a particular interest rate for a particular period of time.
What’s potentially interesting about this data is that (1) approximately 80% of mortgage-rate locks apparently result in an actual home purchase and (2) buyers must specify whether they’re applying to secure a rate for a primary home, a second home, or an investment property. So there’s a high degree of intent that goes along with these applications.
What Redfin found when they looked at the data is that the growth in demand for second homes is exceeding that of primary homes by quite a wide margin. They argue that this is largely a result of people now working remotely.
But this rise in demand — at least according to the above data — appears to have started in the second half of 2019. So I think a few more data points would be helpful in understanding what’s really going on. Is what we’re seeing more about acceleration than about causation? And what does this look like a year from now?
Last month I wrote a post introducing the One Delisle video series. Well, in case you missed it, the next two episodes in the series are now out, which you can watch over here. My personal favorite (so far) is episode two. It’s about city building at Yonge & St. Clair and a goal that Slate set for itself to do “one cool thing each year.” That thing has ranged from murals to streetscape improvements, and has included work from artists such as birdO (aka Jerry Rugg). If you aren’t familiar with his work, have a look over here.
Back in 2019, Lake Research Partners conducted a housing study for California YIMBY. One of the questions that California voters were asked was about whether or not they support or oppose having more housing built in their community. Here is how people responded (about 700 interviews were conducted by phone and about 500 people were asked online):
What this seems to suggest is that most people (61% of all voters) support more housing in their community, with 38% (the darker bar) feeling very strongly about it. These results also seem to suggest that if you’re already a homeowner and/or if you’re a Republican, that you are then less likely to support housing in your community (51% and 54%, respectively). Even still, one possible conclusion that you can draw from these findings is that, perhaps in all cases, a majority of people (>50%) support the idea of more housing in their community.
However, the problem with this approach is that you’re ultimately asking a pretty generic and theoretical question about housing supply. I am presuming that this is a scenario where the rubber has not yet hit the road. Indeed, most people will say that they support new housing in their backyard, but is that actually how things will play it? It’s pretty common, for example, to hear things like: “I support new development, but I think this project is simply too ___________.”
So while I think that there are some interesting directional indicators that one could draw from these findings, I suspect that the numbers in the real world might be slightly less rosy.
The city of Los Angeles has taken an interesting approach to accessory dwelling units (what we generally call laneway or garden suites here in Toronto). In an effort to streamline the approvals process and bolster the supply of housing in the city, they’ve gone out and pre-approved a series of “standard plans” that you can quickly implement on your property. The idea here is that all of their approved plans have already been checked for compliance with the various building codes. So those reviews don’t need to happen before a permit can be issued (though the building department would still need to review any site-specific conditions).
What that means is that if you’re in the market for, say, a one-storey, one-bedroom ADU at around 450 sf, you can simply scroll through their list and find the one you like the most. Here is one that fits this criteria by Design, Bitches (I just wanted to mention this firm name). The potential downside of this approach is that it could encourage less architectural experimentation. On the flipside, many of their approved designs are really nice and so maybe it’s a boon for those who are lacking in good taste. Either way, if you want to encourage more of something, the way to do that is to reduce friction.
To start to give you a sense of how meaningful this could become, the city of Los Angeles received 1,980 applications for ADU construction back in 2017. This is the year in which the state changed its regulations so that ADUs were no longer prohibited in some municipalities (I don’t know all of the specifics truthfully). Last year, LA saw 5,374 applications and I suspect the number will be even higher this year. Should other cities look at pre-approving certain designs? And could this be an approach used for even larger building typologies? Speed is good.
It’s hard for countless reasons, but one reason in particular is that it can be difficult to please everyone. Take parking, for example. This is often a primary concern when you’re trying to develop something new. Too little parking and people might be concerned that cars will start flooding the surrounding streets in search of a spot. Too much parking and people might be concerned about traffic congestion. So it can often feel like you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.
I thought of this as I was reading through Alex Bozikovic’s recent opinion piece in the Globe and Mail called, “Yes, in my backyard: How urban planning must shift to meet our postpandemic challenges.” In it, he mentions a small missing middle-type infill project at 225 Brunswick Avenue here in Toronto. A century-old office building located in a residential neighborhood, a small developer has been working (with Suulin Architects) since 2018 to convert it into seven apartments.
Here are a few photos:
This is the kind of infill housing that planning staff and many councillors are trying to encourage across the city. And yet, the year is 2021. This developer is on year three in a process that will, maybe, deliver a total of seven new rental homes. There are also many other examples that we can point to in the city that have faced similar challenges, like this one here on Gerrard Street East. While not nearly as interesting architecturally speaking, it would have delivered 10 new homes proximate to transit. Maybe that will still happen. I can’t say for sure.
I’m not going to get into the specifics of any one proposal, but two things are clear to me: (1) Our city, and many other cities around the world, have a need for more missing middle-type infill housing and (2) our system is greatly flawed if it takes years and years to ultimately green light the delivery of only a half dozen or so new homes.
Time equals money. And when we make the process this difficult it means that many developers aren’t going to bother (because the math probably doesn’t work) and that the ones who are successful will need to absorb a bunch of unnecessary costs in the end pricing/rents of their homes (i.e. make the homes more expensive than they need to be).
225 Brunswick is exactly the kind of project that I would love to work on: a small-scale adaptive reuse project where design is clearly a priority. But with a 3-4 year entitlement timeline (perhaps longer?), it’s simply not worth it (though I do commend the efforts of the project team). I’m sure many others feel the same way that I do and that’s unfortunate when you’re trying to build a more vibrant, inclusive, and competitive global city.
It was recently reported that Jimmy Fallon and his wife are selling their New York City Penthouse in Gramercy Park. It’s listed for $15 million. In looking at the photos, it’s pretty much what I would have expected. It’s fun and quirky. And they have a “saloon room” that looks like it could be in Wyoming. But what I also find interesting is how they assembled this apartment over time.
It started in 2002. Jimmy Fallon was single and he bought his first place in the building — a one bedroom for $850,000. According to the article, he couldn’t really afford it. But as he was nearing the end of his run on SNL, Lorne Michael encouraged him to buy his own place. So he went and did that in Gramercy Park in a building that dates back to the 1800s.
As life evolved and as Jimmy got married, he and his wife started buying contiguous apartments — three more to be exact. Their penthouse apartment is now about 5,000 square feet and spans three floors in the building. It’s an interesting case study in the flexibility of multi-family buildings. Here is a building that was built in the 1800s and has probably seen a myriad of changes over its lifetime.
Future flexibility is something that is talked about here in Toronto in the context of new construction. We talk about “knock-out panels” so that someone like Jimmy can grow into a larger suite. I’m not sure how often this actually happens, but I would imagine the frequency is relatively low. But it’s very possible and not just in older buildings like The Gramercy Park.
Tourist visits to Venice last year were estimated to be about 1/5 of what they usually are
Short-term rental bookings as of December 2020 were down about 74% year-over-year
It is estimated that short-term rentals normally represent about 12% of homes in Venice (this is significantly higher than the “typical city” which is estimated to be about 1-2%)
Even before the pandemic, average property prices had declined from about €4,500 per square meter in 2018 to €4,341 in 2019 (2020 data is still coming)
Pre-pandemic, the population of the city was about 50,000, which is less than a third of what it was back in the 1950s
A 2018 study by Airbnb reported that for every local Venetian the city had 74 tourists on average (wow)
Being a dominant port city, the city has generally been disproportionately impacted by plagues and other health crises throughout its history
The Lazzaretto Vecchio, which still stands today, is a small island in the Venetian Lagoon that was founded in the 15th century as a hospital to care for plague victims; apparently it was the first of its kind in the world
During the 15th century, Venice saw its population drop by about two-thirds as a result of an epidemic
At the height of the Republic of Venice in the 1790s, the city had a population of about 170,000; after falling to Napoleon it halved to about 96,000
It’s worth pointing out that the “height of the republic” occurred after many great epidemics; the subsequent population decline was seemingly the result of a conquest and not pestilence
This morning I stumbled up on this conversation between Richard Florida and Ed Glaeser about the post-pandemic city. It’s from September 2020 and that is obvious in some of the comments. Richard Florida (who was in Toronto) remarked that it felt like the pandemic was mostly over at that time and that Canada had seemingly done a much better job than the US at tackling it. That no longer feels right. But I did find myself agreeing with some of their other points.
Here’s one from Ed Glaeser that looks back to previous health crises:
But pretty much since the 14th century, urbanization proceeded despite the reappearance of the Black Death in the 1350s. Urbanization proceeded despite the Great Plague of London in the 1660s. All of the great diseases that spread in 19th-century America, cholera, yellow fever, the urbanization just chugged along. Even the influenza pandemic of 1919-1920 was followed by a tremendous decade of city building. So, I think our cities have proven to be remarkably resilient.
