Tokyo is a city of contrasts. It is both hyper-modern and steeped in tradition. It is known for art, architecture, design, and fashion, yet it's also a city that — through its built form — makes the argument that architecture is irrelevant.
While the city certainly has countless examples of remarkable architecture, the vast majority of its buildings are arguably just that — buildings. They are a nondescript part of the urban fabric that give back through their siting, scale, rhythm, and mix of uses rather than their raw architectural qualities. Sometimes you may not even be able to see the building past all the signage.
If you were looking for a city to support the argument that urbanism matters more than architecture, I think Tokyo would be a good place to start.
What Tokyo does so successfully is ground-up urbanism (as opposed to top-down master planning). Flexible permissions, mixed-use zones by default, and an orientation around rail have allowed Tokyo to organically evolve into one of the most livable global cities on the planet.
In fact, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find any city of this magnitude that is simultaneously this livable. Which makes me wonder: Are we spending too much time worrying about architecture?
It is common for big cities to have design review processes. These typically consist of a panel of experts who evaluate new development proposals based on their architectural and urban design qualities. The comments that come back might suggest that a long facade be visually "broken up," or that additional stepbacks be introduced in order to mitigate the impact on the street and improve sky views. It's a process that can be lengthy.
But what Tokyo tells us is that, while architecture matters a great deal, it may not be the most important thing to focus on from a city-building standpoint. What matters more is the space and relationship between these buildings, the uses and permissions granted to their occupants, and the overall relationship to transit infrastructure. Here, urbanism is more critical than architecture.
If you buy this argument, then design review panels aren't actually our most pressing priority. Instead, what we should have is a kind of urbanism review panel. But rather than react to new developments, its job would be to go out and proactively identify and fix bad urbanism: this street is too narrow, this street is too wide, OMG what were we thinking here, and so on.
Then, when a new development proposal comes along, this panel would get out of the way and let the market decide what it wants to be. It would trust that it had done its job and laid the right preconditions for good urbanism to emerge.
Sounds weird and unsettling, doesn't it? Except, we might be pleasantly surprised by what it would lead to.
Cover photo by Fred Nassar on Unsplash
Good morning, and welcome back to work and school.
I remember a moment very early on in my development career when I was sitting in a boardroom with dozens of "gray hairs" and the topic of Toronto's Union Station revitalization came up. Specifically, the proposed plan to dig out a new basement and add significant retail throughout the station. This was before construction had started in 2010 and it was considered a rather novel move.
At the time, Union Station was essentially a transit hub with a few ancillary retail offerings like Jugo Juice and Cinnabon (for the good smells). My comment was along the lines of "Finally, more retail, what a great idea," but everyone looked at me like I had three heads. The consensus in the room was, "It'll never work, Brandon." And what was implied was that I just didn't have enough real estate experience to get that.
But what I didn't understand was their reaction. Union Station is the busiest mobility hub in the country. Hundreds of thousands of people pass through it each day. Today, I think the number is somewhere around 300,000 people. This is like the entire population of Markham or Vaughan passing through one building every single day. It's hard to imagine a better anchor than rail. Surely, if you put retail in front of this foot traffic, you'll be able to monetize it!
Fast forward to today.
Over the weekend, Bianca and I took the subway to a Raptors game. As we walked through the concourse, the first thing I said to her was, "I really love what they have done here. Union finally feels like a station fit for a global city like Toronto." It feels grand, there are global retailers like Uniqlo, Shake Shack, Arabica, and many others, and the wayfinding seems to only be getting better. The pathway to Scotiabank Arena felt deliberate — finally.
I have no firsthand experience with the revitalization program or the leasing at Union Station. So I couldn't tell you quantitatively how the stores and restaurants are performing. I also recognize that construction was massively delayed and ran over budget. But anecdotally, I can say that you do have to wait a long time for a burger from Shake Shack, even late at night. The place is always busy.
Union Station seems well on its way to being a commercial success, and it seems to be establishing itself not only as a mixed-use rail hub, but as a destination in downtown Toronto. If any of you have firsthand experience, please drop a comment below.
I don't remember signing up for Thesis Driven's newsletter, but I'm on it, and it does sound like something I would do. Their latest post, the first of this year by Brad Hargreaves, is called "Seven Real Estate Predictions for 2026." And I'd like to draw your attention to the last one. Here it is verbatim:
The word “sponsor” has historically implied episodic activity: raise capital, do a deal, return capital, repeat. That framing made sense when real estate investing was primarily about financial engineering and asset selection.
It makes far less sense in a world where alpha increasingly comes from operations.
By 2026, I think the most sophisticated real estate operators will stop being thought of—and thinking of themselves—as sponsors at all. They will be platforms. And platforms are underwritten differently.
Rather than being evaluated solely on IRRs and realized multiples, these businesses will increasingly be assessed through a private equity lens: EBITDA generation, revenue streams, margin stability, customer (tenant) retention, technology leverage, scalability of systems, and durability of management teams. Deal performance will still matter, but as proof points—not as the whole story.
The consequences? Platform economics reward longer-term thinking, reinvestment, and organizational maturity. They also open the door to entirely different capital partners, exit paths, and valuation frameworks that look a lot more like growth equity than traditional real estate promote structures.
This really resonates with me. Sponsor, promoter, and developer — these names have historically reflected the entrepreneurial and deal-specific nature of real estate. It's also one of the reasons why project brands typically overshadow developer brands; the focus is on that one deal.
A good deal is a good deal. We all get that. Sometimes a single deal is all that is needed to change your life. But as a general rule, I am much more interested in longer-term thinking, an approach that compounds over time, the opportunity to continually refine a craft, and the growth of brand equity.
Tokyo is a city of contrasts. It is both hyper-modern and steeped in tradition. It is known for art, architecture, design, and fashion, yet it's also a city that — through its built form — makes the argument that architecture is irrelevant.
While the city certainly has countless examples of remarkable architecture, the vast majority of its buildings are arguably just that — buildings. They are a nondescript part of the urban fabric that give back through their siting, scale, rhythm, and mix of uses rather than their raw architectural qualities. Sometimes you may not even be able to see the building past all the signage.
If you were looking for a city to support the argument that urbanism matters more than architecture, I think Tokyo would be a good place to start.
What Tokyo does so successfully is ground-up urbanism (as opposed to top-down master planning). Flexible permissions, mixed-use zones by default, and an orientation around rail have allowed Tokyo to organically evolve into one of the most livable global cities on the planet.
In fact, I think you'd be hard-pressed to find any city of this magnitude that is simultaneously this livable. Which makes me wonder: Are we spending too much time worrying about architecture?
It is common for big cities to have design review processes. These typically consist of a panel of experts who evaluate new development proposals based on their architectural and urban design qualities. The comments that come back might suggest that a long facade be visually "broken up," or that additional stepbacks be introduced in order to mitigate the impact on the street and improve sky views. It's a process that can be lengthy.
But what Tokyo tells us is that, while architecture matters a great deal, it may not be the most important thing to focus on from a city-building standpoint. What matters more is the space and relationship between these buildings, the uses and permissions granted to their occupants, and the overall relationship to transit infrastructure. Here, urbanism is more critical than architecture.
If you buy this argument, then design review panels aren't actually our most pressing priority. Instead, what we should have is a kind of urbanism review panel. But rather than react to new developments, its job would be to go out and proactively identify and fix bad urbanism: this street is too narrow, this street is too wide, OMG what were we thinking here, and so on.
Then, when a new development proposal comes along, this panel would get out of the way and let the market decide what it wants to be. It would trust that it had done its job and laid the right preconditions for good urbanism to emerge.
Sounds weird and unsettling, doesn't it? Except, we might be pleasantly surprised by what it would lead to.
Cover photo by Fred Nassar on Unsplash
Good morning, and welcome back to work and school.
I remember a moment very early on in my development career when I was sitting in a boardroom with dozens of "gray hairs" and the topic of Toronto's Union Station revitalization came up. Specifically, the proposed plan to dig out a new basement and add significant retail throughout the station. This was before construction had started in 2010 and it was considered a rather novel move.
At the time, Union Station was essentially a transit hub with a few ancillary retail offerings like Jugo Juice and Cinnabon (for the good smells). My comment was along the lines of "Finally, more retail, what a great idea," but everyone looked at me like I had three heads. The consensus in the room was, "It'll never work, Brandon." And what was implied was that I just didn't have enough real estate experience to get that.
But what I didn't understand was their reaction. Union Station is the busiest mobility hub in the country. Hundreds of thousands of people pass through it each day. Today, I think the number is somewhere around 300,000 people. This is like the entire population of Markham or Vaughan passing through one building every single day. It's hard to imagine a better anchor than rail. Surely, if you put retail in front of this foot traffic, you'll be able to monetize it!
Fast forward to today.
Over the weekend, Bianca and I took the subway to a Raptors game. As we walked through the concourse, the first thing I said to her was, "I really love what they have done here. Union finally feels like a station fit for a global city like Toronto." It feels grand, there are global retailers like Uniqlo, Shake Shack, Arabica, and many others, and the wayfinding seems to only be getting better. The pathway to Scotiabank Arena felt deliberate — finally.
I have no firsthand experience with the revitalization program or the leasing at Union Station. So I couldn't tell you quantitatively how the stores and restaurants are performing. I also recognize that construction was massively delayed and ran over budget. But anecdotally, I can say that you do have to wait a long time for a burger from Shake Shack, even late at night. The place is always busy.
Union Station seems well on its way to being a commercial success, and it seems to be establishing itself not only as a mixed-use rail hub, but as a destination in downtown Toronto. If any of you have firsthand experience, please drop a comment below.
I don't remember signing up for Thesis Driven's newsletter, but I'm on it, and it does sound like something I would do. Their latest post, the first of this year by Brad Hargreaves, is called "Seven Real Estate Predictions for 2026." And I'd like to draw your attention to the last one. Here it is verbatim:
The word “sponsor” has historically implied episodic activity: raise capital, do a deal, return capital, repeat. That framing made sense when real estate investing was primarily about financial engineering and asset selection.
It makes far less sense in a world where alpha increasingly comes from operations.
By 2026, I think the most sophisticated real estate operators will stop being thought of—and thinking of themselves—as sponsors at all. They will be platforms. And platforms are underwritten differently.
Rather than being evaluated solely on IRRs and realized multiples, these businesses will increasingly be assessed through a private equity lens: EBITDA generation, revenue streams, margin stability, customer (tenant) retention, technology leverage, scalability of systems, and durability of management teams. Deal performance will still matter, but as proof points—not as the whole story.
The consequences? Platform economics reward longer-term thinking, reinvestment, and organizational maturity. They also open the door to entirely different capital partners, exit paths, and valuation frameworks that look a lot more like growth equity than traditional real estate promote structures.
This really resonates with me. Sponsor, promoter, and developer — these names have historically reflected the entrepreneurial and deal-specific nature of real estate. It's also one of the reasons why project brands typically overshadow developer brands; the focus is on that one deal.
A good deal is a good deal. We all get that. Sometimes a single deal is all that is needed to change your life. But as a general rule, I am much more interested in longer-term thinking, an approach that compounds over time, the opportunity to continually refine a craft, and the growth of brand equity.
In Brad's words, that is "platform over sponsor."
Cover photo by Fabio Sasso on Unsplash
In Brad's words, that is "platform over sponsor."
Cover photo by Fabio Sasso on Unsplash
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
Share Dialog
