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 week it was announced that Social Capital Hedosophia II — a special purpose acquisition company associated with Chamath Palihapitiya — will merge with the real estate startup Opendoor, effectively taking the company public. Without going into all of the details, SPACs are kind of popular right now. They’re a way to take companies public without going through the traditional IPO process. And Chamath is clearly a believer in the approach, as he has gone ahead and reserved all of the symbols from “IPOA” to “IPOZ” on the New York Stock Exchange. $IPOB is what will be merging with Opendoor.
But SPACs are not the point of this post. The point is that I have written a lot about Opendoor over the years on this blog. (Here are those post.) And I’m pretty sure that, on a number of occasions, I have referred to it as one of if not the most promising consumer-facing real estate startup. So in my view this announcement is a pretty big deal for both the company and for the industry. As Chamath puts it in the below investment thesis, “real estate is the largest, undisrupted form of buying/selling in the US worth more than $1.6 trillion annually.” And it’s only a matter of time before that process moves online.
Big News: $IPOB is merging with @Opendoor and will take them public. More than $1B is being invested to help Opendoor build a legacy company.
This is my next big 10x idea (memo attached).
Tune into @SquawkCNBC today at 8am ET to hear more.
In it, they committed to becoming a “zero-emission platform” by 2040, with 100% of rides taking place in zero-emission vehicles, on public transit, or with micromobility. In the US, Canada, and Europe, they have gone even further and committed to 100% of rides taking place in an electric vehicle by 2030. And at the corporate level, they are similarly targeting net-zero emissions by 2030.
To achieve all of this, the company will be focusing on helping drivers transition to EVs by 2025, investing in their multimodal network, and trying to encourage less reliance on personal car ownership, among other things. They’ll also be incentivizing both drivers (+$1.50 per Green ride) and consumers (3x Uber Rewards points per Green ride, instead of 2x). And I think these will be key.
According to Uber, global carbon emissions fell by some 17% in the month of April as a result of lockdowns. But by June that decline had diminished to only 5%. What is obvious is that this was a short-term blip. “Normal” will return at some point. But once on-demand mobility is able to fully transition to electric vehicles, we’ll certainly be looking at a different kind of normal.
That is the argument that Joshua Gordon, who is an assistant professor in the Simon Fraser University School of Public Policy, recently made in this opinion piece in the Globe and Mail. In his view, there’s no evidence to suggest that housing supply can actually help housing affordability. It’s just something that developers throw around to “stymie action on the demand-side” and to help with their rezoning efforts. Really, the housing problem is due to intense demand from foreign buyers, investors, and from “high rental demand.”
Now, as many of you know, I am a developer, and not a professor. So you can take this post however you would like. But I do have a few thoughts.
One, I think it’s an oversimplification to argue that there have been no regulatory changes over the last decade that have meaningfully and negatively impacted the supply of new housing. To give you one example, this fall, development levies in Toronto will complete a phase-in that has seen them double over the last couple of years. Almost a quarter of the price of a new residential condominium now goes to pay government fees and taxes. This has an impact on supply, even if the “regulatory environment” hasn’t necessarily changed.
Two, I don’t buy the argument that, “surrounding cities have also seen rapid price appreciation and it’s easier to build there, so housing supply mustn’t be the problem.” Building outside of cities like Toronto and Vancouver isn’t necessarily easier. In fact, in some cases it can be more difficult if they’re not accustomed to more progressive urban infill-type developments.
Three, it’s important to keep in mind that we have a financing structure in place that biases the types of homes (specifically residential condominiums) that get built. This approach is designed to mitigate financial risk, but it also means that investors serve an important function in the delivery of new housing. I’m not saying that the system is perfect; but I am saying that things are maybe not as simple as they may seem.
Four, just because there are cities with lots of single-detached homes and relatively affordable housing, I don’t think we can safely assume that single-family land use policies have no impact on supply and pricing in cities like Toronto and Vancouver. In fact, I would argue the opposite. This probably goes to show you the importance of an elastic housing supply. Indeed, some of the most affordable housing markets are dominated by low-rise houses precisely because it is a typology that is quicker and cheaper to build than most urban infill housing.
Finally, I’m not sure why anyone would consider high rental demand and a strong labor market to be symptomatic of a problem. Isn’t that what you usually want out of cities? You want there to be an abundance of good jobs that pay people money so that they can, you know, have a life and consume things like housing. But maybe that’s just the way that I look at things. I am a developer after all.
The width of a standard parking space in Toronto is generally 2.6m. I say generally because it depends on a few other factors, such as whether it’s “obstructed” or whether it’s being accessed off a substandard drive aisle. But for the purposes of this post, let’s agree that the width of a standard Toronto parking space is 2.6m.
The reason I mention this is because Onexn Architects has recently completed a 2.6m wide cafe in Shenzhen called Joys. Pictured above, the 9 square meter space used to house an air conditioner repair shop.
Now, some of you are probably looking at the photos and thinking that this maybe isn’t such a big deal. But small spaces force you to be creative.
Look at the grey exterior paving that creates the impression that the cafe is spilling out onto the sidewalk. And look at how they used an illuminated 5 meter tall canopy to try and accentuate the space.
In some places and in cities, a retail space like this might easily become forgotten space. But here, it was something worth designing.
At a high level there are two components to the value of a house. There’s the value of the land and there’s the value of all the improvements. That is, the bricks, wood, and other stuff that form the actual house. When a media outlet runs a sensational headline about some shack in Toronto selling for, oh I don’t know, a million dollars, what it actually means is that the land in this particular area was just valued by somebody at this number. In fact, if the property is very clearly a “knock down” the improvements sitting on the land become a liability/cost rather than anything of value. Because whoever buys the land will almost certainly need to remove the improvements before they can build whatever it is they want to build.
This distinction between land and improvements is a valuable one for many reasons. Here’s one example. In cases where the improvements aren’t some shack, you may be faced with a scenario where a property can be valued in two different ways. You can value it based on the development potential of the underlying land or you can value it based on the income (either in-place or potential) that the improvements are generating, or could be generating with some hard work on your part. If the development value is greater than the value of the improvements, then there will be pressure to redevelop. Conversely, if the opposite is true, it is likely that not much will happen other than maybe capital expenditures applied to the existing building(s).
Of course, you could also run into a scenario where there’s little development potential and there’s zero ability to invest in the existing improvements, either because the market rents are too low in the area or because they’re capped and/or controlled in some way. In this scenario, it’s likely that not much will happen other than the normal and expected depreciation of the improvements. Maybe one day the development/investment math will work. But in the interim, you probably won’t be seeing any of those sensational media headlines.
It used to be the case that cities had a habit of catching fire and burning down. Toronto had the Great Fires of 1849 and 1904. Chicago had the Great Fire of 1871. And the same can be said about many other cities. In fact, you probably weren’t considered a real city until you had some sort of “Great Fire.” But as Derek Thompson points out in this recent Atlantic article about urban comebacks, disasters have a way of forcing positive change:
The 21st-century city is the child of catastrophe. The comforts and infrastructure we take for granted were born of age-old afflictions: fire, flood, pestilence. Our tall buildings, our subways, our subterranean conduits, our systems for bringing water in and taking it away, our building codes and public-health regulations—all were forged in the aftermath of urban disasters by civic leaders and citizen visionaries.
As Charles Dickens famously described, British cities in the early years of the Industrial Revolution were grim and pestilential. London, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds—they didn’t suffer from individual epidemics so much as from overlapping, never-ending waves of disease: influenza, typhoid, typhus, tuberculosis.
It’s somewhat unfortunate, but oftentimes we need something to break before any action is taken. There’s a bias toward the status quo. Otherwise, it becomes a question of, “what did we do last time? Well that worked just fine. Let’s do it again.” But hopefully all of this makes you at least a little optimistic about the future. Because history has taught us that when faced with adversity, we don’t typically turn our back on our cities. Rather we turn around and make them better.
This satirical piece in the Beaverton about “biking everywhere” is hilarious because it touches on so many cycling stereotypes:
“It’s a great way to get around while also staying in shape,” said McFarlen as he biked through a red light. “From tattoo shops to my job at VICE to even the best Banh Mi in the city – I just hop on my bike and I’m there. Why does anyone drive ever? Gross!”
But the other thing it does is speak to the trade-off between location and transportation costs. Brian McFarlen, the fictional protagonist from the article, is able to bike everywhere (low cost) because he allegedly lives in a central neighborhood (high cost):
McFarlen, whose parents paid for him to go to film school and has no mortgage, kids, or debt, condemns people who drive in the city. “I hate cars – we should just get rid of all roads and replace them with bike lanes. Isn’t everyone able to live downtown and spend hours of their day biking around the city hitting up all the best micro breweries?”
I think it’s natural for us humans to form tribes with others that are similar to ourselves. We have two wheels and you all have four wheels. We live in the city and you all don’t. All of these things make us different.
But there’s certainly something to be said for having a bit of empathy for those outside of our particular tribes.
I just finished watching the Raptors beat the Boston Celtics and tie up the series in double overtime, and now it’s quite possible that I may not be able to sleep for the next three days.
My favorite inbound text of the evening was this one here: “I could run 30km right now. I won’t. But you get it.” I most certainly do.
There’s something so special about seeing Lowry do things like this:
This recent article by Amanda Mull makes an interesting argument about “Why Americans Really Go to the Gym.” In it she argues that gyms aren’t just about being healthy and looking beautiful. Part of the satisfaction of working out in a collective space is that, among other things, you get to be around people with similar values and you get to prove to others that you are someone with enough self-discipline to stay consistently active. In her words, “proving something to others is often a big part of proving it to yourself, and that’s difficult to do when no one else can see you.” Depending on how you interpret this, it might lead you to believe that we’re all looking for a bit of validation from others. But I think the other way to look at it is that spaces such as gyms and offices aren’t just empty vessels where we come to do our necessary work. They are also social environments that serve some potentially important psychological functions.
The other thing Mull’s article touches on is the evolution of physical activity:
In the past 70 years, physical activity in America has transformed from a necessity of daily life into an often-expensive leisure activity, retrofitted into the foundation of people’s identities. As a concept, fitness was a response to the flourishing, sidewalk-free postwar American suburbs and what the fitness pioneer Bonnie Prudden dubbed “the tyranny of the wheel”: Americans went from strollers to school buses to cars, stripping out much of the on-foot transportation that had long characterized life in cities or on farms. “In the ’50s and ’60s, the body became a problem, and exercise developed—it had to develop—because people realized that we were all going to die of heart attacks,” Shelly McKenzie, the author of Getting Physical: The Rise of Fitness Culture in America, told me.
In short: we had no choice but to create a fitness industry because we systematically removed physical activity from our daily lives. You could argue — as the above excerpt does — that this was largely because of suburbanization and changes in mobility. But I don’t think that’s everything. We also changed the kind of work that a lot of us do and created technologies that allow us to do more without, frankly, moving all that much. Today, doing good work and being productive is often characterized by sitting still for extended periods of time and subsisting on empty calories so that you don’t have to lose focus for very long. Indeed, working out our bodies, and consequently our minds, has become somewhat of a luxury.
I was in Montreal for the long weekend and I decided to take the time off from writing. I don’t do that very often, but it was the right thing to do this past weekend.
Montreal is one of my favorite cities. I spent quite a bit of time there when I was in my early 20s and I almost ended up at McGill for my undergraduate degree. So I have a soft spot for the place.
One of my friends once described Montreal to me (and contrasted it against Toronto) by saying that it has grandeur. And I think that is exactly the right word.
There are so many moments throughout the city where you just feel its impressiveness. It’s almost as if, from the very beginning, the city knew what it was destined to become.
In contrast to this, urban planner Joe Berridge has, in the past, referred to Toronto as an accidental metropolis. And I think that is a similarly accurate way of describing our city.
Sometimes in Toronto (or perhaps oftentimes, depending on who you ask), you have to scratch a little beneath the surface to find what makes Toronto a truly great city.
It’s as if the city didn’t know what it was destined to become, and built accordingly. Things just happened — accidentally.
Grandeur isn’t usually something that is discussed today in city planning circles. We instead talk about things like angular planes, context and, of course, building height.
But maybe it’s time we rethink our list of requirements. Maybe it’s time we ask ourselves: “Are we creating a city with grandeur?”
