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.
Today we setup our construction webcam for Junction House. Here is a screenshot from this afternoon:
As you can tell, Mitchell Demolition is now on site. They still have some work to do inside the existing buildings, but after that everything will be coming down.
If you’d like to take a look at the public live feed, click here. It will also be available (embedded) on junctionhouse.ca in the next week or so.
Thank you Notion for letting us setup on your rooftop. If you aren’t familiar with Notion, check them out here. They make custom apparel and other cool stuff right in the Junction.
Using data from Turner & Townsend, Curbed recently reported that the most expensive city in the world in which to build is now San Francisco. On average, it costs USD 417 per square foot. San Francisco is followed by New York ($368 psf), London, Zurich, and Hong Kong. New York took the top spot last year, but San Francisco shot up this year because of, you know, tech.
This number was calculated using a blend of six different types of construction, everything from apartment high-rise and prestige office to general hospital and warehouse distribution centers.
Now, I’m not exactly sure what this number includes. But I’m assuming it is only direct construction costs and doesn’t include (contractor) general conditions, land, or any soft costs, which are all significant. Once you add in these other cost inputs, I am sure that you can start to see how things — including the cost of new housing — can quickly escalate.
The average price of popular new condo floor plans in the City of Toronto in October 2019 was approximately $1,275 per-square-foot (psf) and with growth of 3% a year, prices would hit $1,475 psf in 2024. I wouldn’t be surprised to see annual average growth of 4%, which would get you to $1,625 psf in five years in Toronto.
This data was taken from BuzzBuzzHome and — by “popular new condo floor plans” — I believe he means that these are the floor plans that buyers tend to click on and review when they visit the site. So it’s a good indication of buyer demand.
Here’s another quote that stuck out:
Part of the reason that price growth has spiked is a rise in construction costs, development charges, and land prices – this cost-push inflation is passed on to consumers.
That sounds right. And I have been writing about this phenomenon all year. Most of us can probably remember when $1,000+ psf was a high water mark for new construction condos. Now it’s pretty much a floor.
Many, or perhaps most, developers I know have a minimum project size that they will work on. That’s why you’ll hear people say, “No, that project is too small. I need at least X square feet or Y number of units.” Given that smaller scale development such as laneway housing and “the missing middle” are so in vogue today, I thought I would discuss some of the reasons why scale matters.
But first, it’s worth mentioning that “laneway suites,” as we have structured them here in Toronto, are intended to be built by individual homeowners and not by developers. The lots can’t be severed and most lots will yield less than 1,000 square feet. So this is a bit of a unique circumstance. As most of you know, I am a big supporter of this initiative.
When you get into larger developer-led projects, it’s a different ball game. For one, it’s hard to even find sites. And good luck if you need to deal with multiple owners as part of an assembly. Most landowners have pricing expectations that do not even remotely align with “missing middle” level densities.
But assuming you’ve been able to find land at a reasonable price, you still have to contend with the fact that projects have a lot of fixed costs, as well as diseconomies of scale. In other words, there are schedule, cost, and resourcing considerations that won’t change no matter how big or small you go. It’s still going to take this long and cost this much, and you’re still going to need a set of humans to manage it through.
This can then create a situation where there’s not enough margin for error. The project is simply too small to absorb any shocks, such as an unforeseen delay or an unforeseen groundwater concern that is now adding millions to your project budget. There’s a lot of risk with development and it’s prudent to have contingency room. That’s harder to do with smaller projects.
The other problem developers run into with smaller projects is that the construction subtrades also tend to think of them as smaller projects. They have their own set of fixed costs and margins to worry about. So unless you happen to catch them with an opening in their schedule, you run the risk of them telling you they’re too busy or them giving you a stinky price, which is just another way of them saying they don’t want the job.
On top of all this, there’s minimum project size inflation. If capital is not a constraint, there’s a tendency to want to do bigger projects (see above). And because the cost of everything keeps going up, it’s simultaneously getting harder and harder to make smaller projects pencil; unless you, maybe, go ultra luxury and ultra exclusive. But that’s kind of the opposite goal of this whole “missing middle” movement, is it not?
I learned today that the hard hat will celebrate its 100th anniversary this year.
Patented in 1919, the hard hat was invented by a man named Edward W. Bullard (though his father had already been making protective leather caps for the mining industry). Edward had just returned to the United States after World War I and he began to wonder why construction workers weren’t wearing helmets like the one he had been wearing overseas. So he decided to make one.
Edward’s first product was called the Hard Boiled Hat, and it was made out of steamed canvas and leather. Similar to today, an early version of the hat featured a “suspension system,” which created an air cavity between head and helmet and cushioned any blows to the head. This overarching design approach hasn’t really changed all that much over the years, but Bullard’s hats did go from canvas to aluminum (1938) and then to plastic (1950). Plastic is, of course, cheaper to produce.
Supposedly, the first designated “Hard Hat Area” in the US was the Golden Gate Bridge site, which started construction in 1933. This should give you a sense of the hard hat’s adoption curve. It seemingly took well over a decade for construction sites to start mandating their usage, and even then it doesn’t appear to have been ubiquitous.
The company — which was founded in 1898 in San Francisco — is now in its fifth generation of family ownership, according to the New York Times.
The Junction House team is excited to announce that construction will start this fall and that our ground breaking ceremony will be held at 11AM on Saturday, October, 19th. Mark your calendars.
It will take place at our Sales Gallery — 2720 Dundas St W. This will be one of the last opportunities to see the award-winning Junction House Sales Gallery before it is demolished in preparation for construction.
There will be photo opportunities for everyone in attendance, and so we encourage you to bring your phones/cameras. You’re welcome to extend this invitation to family and friends, but kindly RSVP by sending an email to info@junctionhouse.ca.
A few people have now sent me this TED talk by architect Débora Mesa Molina. But I watched it for the first time today. I guess my personal brand is pretty closely associated with architecture and design.
In it, she talks about her firm’s approach to using overlooked and/or standard building materials in unconventional ways. For example, here, she used stacked precast beams to assemble a house in Madrid (c.2008). The entire structure came together in only 7 days.
My first reaction is that I like the idea and approach — which is really quite interesting — more than the final designs. I am also curious if there were any cost savings as a result of using “standard” materials. What are your thoughts?
For two reasons, I really like Fred Wilson’s recent blog post on hypothetical value to real value. Firstly, it is structured in the way that I think good blog posts are structured. He starts with a personal story (about this son) and then uses that to take a position and impart some knowledge about the venture capital industry. It makes for a more engaging read. Secondly, I like how he describes the journey and spread between hypothetical value and real value:
Venture capitalists and seed funds and angel investors make or lose money on the journey from hypothetical value to real value. And when the spread between the two narrows, the money we make is less. When the spread increases, the money we make is more. It is easier to drink your own Kool Aid in the world of hypothetical values. You handicap the odds of winning more aggressively. You trade ownership for capital at work. You accept the new normal. Real value doesn’t move so fast. Because it is right in front of you. You can see it. So it is not prone to flights of fancy. I try to keep this framework front and center in my brain as we meet with founders and work to find transactions that work for everyone. I find it to be a stabilizing force in an unstable market.
All of this is related to the notion that you make real money when you’re right about something that most people think is wrong. Because that would be hypothetical value. If it were real value, then everyone would simply believe it. It would be “right in front of you.” And this is pretty much true of all competitive marketplaces, including the real estate industry. Risk and uncertainty create opportunity.
Emily Badger’s recent piece on “how ‘developer’ became such a dirty word” has been getting passed around within the industry over the last few days. I had a chuckle when I read this bit:
The notion that development is inherently bad, or that developers are inherently bad actors, seems to ignore that the communities residents want to protect from developers were once developed, too, and often by people who made money at it. (That is, unless you believe in “immaculate construction.”)
The article hits on a number of points that are absolutely true. There’s generally a lack of understanding around the economics behind new housing. And the cost structures, today, are dramatically different compared to the suburban-industrial complex.
To provide one example, our cost consultant, Finnegan Marshall, recently shared with me a chart (dated April 2019) that broke down the various government fees that typically make up every new condo suite in Toronto.
What it showed is that between 20-24% of the price of a new condo is generally compromised of government fees and taxes that span all three levels of government. This includes everything from development charges (impact fees) to parkland dedication.
Similarly, the article quotes one developer from Montgomery County who estimates that the impact fees alone for his projects are usually upwards of $60,000 per housing unit. (This is pretty cheap compared to Toronto.)
I raise this as an example because development charges/impact fees have become an important source of revenue for cities across both Canada and the US. They often offset lower property taxes. (Whether this is appropriate is an entirely other debate.)
And so I find it paradoxical that many homeowners would like to simultaneously see lower property taxes, no new development, and more public services and infrastructure.
121 East 22nd — which is OMA’s first ground-up project in Manhattan — recently finished up construction at the corner of E 23rd St and Lexington Ave (the site continues through to E 22nd St, where there is basically a 2nd building). I wrote about the project over two years ago, here.
The defining feature is its “prismatic corner”, which, I understand from this interview with David Von Spreckelsen (President of Toll Brothers City Living), was largely an outcome of the site’s restrictive zoning. There was a requirement to have constant street walls. That minimized what could be done architecturally on the project’s main elevations.
The solution is two contextual street walls — the punched windows are designed to match the rhythm of their adjoining buildings — coming together and creating dramatic visual interest only at the point where they intersect. Below is a rolled out elevation from OMA. Note the gradient created by the windows as they converge toward the corner (center in the drawing below).
The other interesting thing about this project is that it reminded me just how different the built form of Manhattan can be compared to Toronto. In the case of 121 East 22nd, the streetwalls rise 150 feet without any stepbacks. There is then a 10 foot stepback before the building rises another 60 feet — similarly without any additional breaks.
