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.
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.
Alex Bozikovic is right to praise Gairloch’s upcoming development in the Junction. It’s a beautiful project and it’s exciting to see so many architecturally significant projects in one neighborhood — either completed or to be completed. I’m thinking specifically of DUKE Condos (TAS and Quadrangle), our Junction House project (currently under construction), and now Gairloch’s.
But Alex (as well as Jeremiah Shamess) is also right to point out some of the tensions and contradictions that are inherent to building at this scale. We want European-type mid-rise buildings all along our avenues, but we also want our housing to be more affordable. Problem is, mid-rise buildings are the most expensive way to build.
The approvals process also tends to privilege urban design considerations over things like livability and construction costs. We talk about the shadow impacts that the project might have on the surrounding community, but not about how well the suites will layout when it’s all said and done — not to mention how expensive they will be to build.
The cynics will tell you that it doesn’t matter what it costs to build because developers will always profit maximize (as is the case with every other for-profit business). But that’s an oversimplification that ignores a bunch of factors.
One, it’s not as simple as just price. You also have to consider sales velocity. Price and sales velocity tend to be inversely correlated. In other words, as prices increase, sales velocity tends to naturally slow. You then begin to trade-off higher prices for increased time (which has a cost) and more market risk.
As I’ve said many times before on the blog, development happens on the margin. Usually the way this plays out is that you create a development pro forma, you look at all of your project costs, and then you say, “oh shit.” You’re then stretching to figure out how you’re going to make the math work.
Two, there are usually always parts of a city where development isn’t feasible (in some unfortunate cases, it might be the entire city). The potential revenues simply don’t support the costs. And as costs continue the rise, any areas that have not seen a corresponding increase in prices and/or rents will also become undevelopable.
So there’s price, and there’s also a question of where great buildings are even possible. As many have already pointed out, it’s certainly not everywhere.
Condo developers are merchant builders. They build a project and then move on. Because of this, there’s a belief that there’s little incentive to build for durability, in comparison to say purpose-built rental buildings where the developer might continue to own over an extended period of time. While it is true that putting on an operations hat will make you hyper-focused on everything from garbage collection to how you’re going to manage all of your suite keys, there are a few things to consider in this debate.
One, as developers we certainly think and care a lot about our brand and our reputation, both with our customers and with Tarion (warranty program). We ask ourselves: “What will our customers think if we do this?” Irrespective of the tenure we’re building, we want our projects to be carefully considered. And in the case of condominium projects, we would like our customers to feel excited and comfortable about buying in one of our future projects. That’s the goal. This is no different than any other product that you might buy that doesn’t come along with some sort of ongoing subscription.
Two, there’s often a spread between condominium and rental values. For example, let’s consider a brand new 550 square foot condominium in a central neighborhood of Toronto and let’s say it would cost you $1,300 psf to buy it today. (Obviously it could be more or it could be less depending on the area and the building.) Now let’s start with a rent and back into a value, using some basic assumptions.
Unit Size (SF)
550
Monthly Rent
$2,400
Rent PSF – Monthly
$4.36
Rent PSF – Annual
$52.36
NOI Margin
72%
NOI
$37.70
Exit Cap
3.75%
Value PSF
$1,005
Here I’m assuming that same suite would rent for $2,400 per month. I’m converting that to an annual PSF rent. And then I’m assuming that if you were managing a whole building of these kinds of units, your operating costs might be somewhere around 28%. Crude back-of-the-napkin math to get to a Net Operating Income (psf). Finally, I’m capping this NOI at 3.75%. We can debate my assumptions and if this were in a development pro forma you might “trend” the rents. But I find this comparison helpful. Here we are getting to a value of around $1,005 per square foot. Less than our $1,300 psf above.
The point is that the margins are tighter, which helps to explain why for a long time we saw very few purpose-built rentals being constructed in this city. So even though you might argue that the incentives are in place to build for durability, you do have to weigh that against the realities of what you can actually afford to build. Development is filled with all sorts of these tradeoffs. But if you and/or your investors really want a consistent yield, this strategy can work just fine. Personally, I’m a fan of the long-term approach.
Three, rent control policies can have an impact both on the feasibility of new projects and on people’s ability to actually perform maintenance. If you have a scenario where your operating costs — everything from taxes to utilities — are rising faster than your allowable rent increases, then you’re in a bad situation and you have zero incentive or financial ability to actually invest in the building, despite being a long-term owner.
Finally, there is nothing stopping a purpose-built rental developer from also being a merchant builder. i.e. Selling the entire rental building once it is done and it has been stabilized. So you could argue that we’re right back at my first point. Whether you’re selling to individual condominium owners or the entire building to one entity, you as the developer have to sit back and ask yourself: “What will our customer(s) think if we do this?”
A good friend of mine, who is also in the industry, once described real estate development as a three-legged stool. In order to develop, you really need three things: expertise, capital, and a site (i.e. land). This probably seems fairly obvious. I mean, you need to know what you’re doing, you need the money to do it, and then you actually need a place to build. But as simple and as obvious as this may seem, there are barriers to entry. Real estate is a capital intensive industry. And despite what the general public seems to believe about the pockets of developers, most are raising outside capital.
The thing about this three-legged stool is that you don’t necessarily need to have all of the legs at once, and in many cases you won’t. If you have two of them in place, it’s usually feasible to figure out and get the last one. For example, if you know what you’re doing (expertise) and you have a site (owned or “under control”), then presumably you have a development pro forma that makes some economic sense. And with those things, you generally should be able to find the capital that you need to execute on your project.
I’ve also met people who have managed to build this three-legged stool starting with only one leg. They didn’t have much development experience or capital connections, but they learned enough to figure out how to value development land. They then went out and started knocking on doors, eventually putting together a development assembly. They then took this assembly to developers (people with expertise) and the stool eventually got built. Starting with only one leg just means you’re going to have to work harder to fill in the others.
A one or two-legged stool won’t stay upright on its own. But hustle will hold it up temporarily while you figure out a creative way to attach the missing leg(s).
If you’ve bought land with the intention of developing it and you now think the value of that land has either gone up or down, there comes the question of what number you should plug into your development pro forma. Do you input what you paid for the land or do you input the current market value of the land? The former is probably more common than the latter, but in my view it’s important to consider both scenarios.
If the value of the land has gone up, it means that you think you could turn around and sell it for that price today. And that would mean you would be making a profit without doing anymore work and without taking on any additional risk. That’s an option that exists right here and right now (t = 0). What you want to get at in your pro forma, or at least understand, is the incremental profit margin from taking on the risk and brain damage of actually doing and completing the development project.
To do that, you need to consider the current market value of the land. That way you isolate your land margin from your build-out margin. The one problem with this approach is that the numbers may then tell you not to develop. In a hot market (which is not right now), it is not uncommon for land to get bid up beyond current fundamentals. There’s always someone else who is willing to be more aggressive.
In this case, you may find that most of the development margin is in the land. And you will start thinking to yourself, “How can anyone afford to pay this much? It doesn’t make sense.” This doesn’t necessarily mean that you shouldn’t develop. But at least it gives you a better understanding of the risk and reward trade-off that you’re about to take on. It might also tell you some things about the market.
Yesterday I made a comment on Twitter about most people not understanding to what extent government bureaucracy inhibits the delivery of new housing in this city. It received a number of responses, including remarks about how development charges have also recently doubled and how this statement applies to pretty much every city out there. But there was also a comment about developers not being transparent and not properly explaining the impact to the public. In other words: please demystify the development pro forma. I thought that was a fair remark, and so this post is going to be a response to that comment.
Before I begin, it’s important to keep in mind that most developers have investors. These investors put up most of the money required for a project and in turn they take most of the profits. However, there is typically a “promote” in place, which is just an incentive structure that pays the developer more of the profits (disproportionate to the cash they invested in the project) if they perform and hit certain return benchmarks. All of this is to say that developers aren’t usually the ones holding all of the cash (which is what a lot of the public seems to think) and they are accountable to their investors to do what they said they would do.
Now let’s run through the costs that make up a “typical” development pro forma. For this example, I am going to assume that we’re talking about a 100,000 square foot mid-rise building; the kind that you might build and find along any one of Toronto’s Avenues. If we were doing this in real life, we would get more precise with the areas and consider gross construction area, gross floor area (city definition), and the net saleable/rentable areas. But to keep the math simple, we will ignore these differences. That’s the approach I’m going to take overall in the post. What you need to know, though, is that you have to pay to build the entire building, but you only get to collect revenue on a portion of it. That’s why the “efficiency” of a building matters.
Land
The value of development land is a function of what you can build and the revenue you can ultimately collect. So location matters a great deal. Based on the latest high-density land report from Bullpen and Batory, the average price of an unzoned mid-rise site in the City of Toronto is about $231 psf. So let’s assume a land cost for our project of $23.1 million. Assuming we can get land financing at 60% of the value of the land (loan-to-value), that would mean we’re putting up $9.24 million of cash (plus a loan guarantee!) and borrowing $13.86 million to start our project. At 5.25% per annum (interest-only loan), our annual interest charges would be about $727,650. From now on forward, we’re going to pay ~$60k in additional interest charges for every month that our project is delayed. Buckle up.
You should now begin to see why time is so valuable and why government bureaucracy can be so frustrating. As a developer, you’re heavily incentivized to move things forward, whereas it can often feel like everyone around you is trying to deliberately erect roadblocks in order to slow you down and make your project more expensive to build. Oftentimes, it is because it is less risky for them to punt things down the road and not make a decision. That is not the case for us and our project.
Hard Costs
Onto construction (or hard) costs. As many of you know, these have risen dramatically over the last 4 to 5 years. On some of our projects, we have added over $100 psf in hard costs alone. Part of this has to do with a busy construction market and part of this has to do with new building requirements: watertight undergrounds, new Green Standards, and so on. For our project, which is on the small side, let’s assume $360 psf for a total of $36 million. This would include our direct construction costs and our construction manager’s overhead (general conditions). We should also prepare for some of the trades to decline to bid on our project because it is too small and not worth their time.
Soft Costs
Soft costs include everything from consultant costs and interest charges to government levies and management fees. Like everything in your pro forma, these absolutely need to be broken out line by line. Don’t be lazy here. But for the purposes of this simplistic example, we’re going to use 75% of hard costs, which works out to be $27 million (or $270 psf). When I first started out in the development business, the rule of thumb was closer to 25% of hard costs. But times have changed. Government fees, alone, can make up about 1/4 of the price of a new condo in Toronto.
Adding up all of these costs, we’re at $861 psf or $86.1 million in costs. It’s now time to consider the revenue side. $1,000 psf seems like a nice round number, so let’s start there and assume we’re going to sell our condos for that. Typically in Toronto, the price you pay is inclusive of HST, so that liability will need to be deducted from our revenue line. It’s not a straight 13% because of the new home rebate, but the rebate also hasn’t been properly indexed since it was introduced and so the liability could still be upwards of 10%. (This is worthy of a separate blog post.) The result is $900 psf in revenue and a margin on costs that is less than 5%. No sensible developer would want to do this project. One misstep (or development charge increase) and you’re dead.
So let’s increase our condo prices to $1,100 psf. Maybe that will work. In doing that, we get to a margin on costs that is nearly 15%. Okay, now we’re in the range. But let’s say we just got delayed by 6 months (boom, interest charges) and our hard costs turned out to be off by $15. They’re actually working out to be $375 psf because of some new tariff and because the formworkers in the city are all tied up on bigger projects and couldn’t give a shit about our cute little infill project. Now we’re offside again in terms of our margin on costs. No problem, let’s try and push condo prices a bit more. Is $1,150 achievable? Perhaps. But ideally, given the above, we would want to be at $1,200 psf just to be safe.
This is an overly simplistic example of the math that goes into a development pro forma. But hopefully it begins to show you (1) just how many moving parts there are in a development project and (2) the kind of pricing that is required in today’s cost environment. Developers are reacting to the costs that they are being thrown and it is creating upward pressure on home prices. (See related post: Cost-plus pricing.) So far there has been enough elasticity in the market to absorb these price increases, but that may not always be the case. If you have questions about this post or disagree with any of my assumptions, feel free to leave a searing comment below.
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?
Developing a building can often feel like you’re trying to solve a rubik’s cube. Among other things, you have to manage a myriad of different stakeholders, all of which — naturally — operate in their own self-interest. There’s the city, community, politicians, various agencies, consultants, tenants, purchasers, lenders, investors, the market at large (of which you really have no control of), and many others. Oftentimes you even have stakeholders whose interests are mutually exclusive. Indeed, the things that they want can sometimes be at odds with each other. Your job is to figure out a solution that satisfies as many of these interests as possible.
To give you an example, let’s say that you’ve been asked to introduce a stepback into your building in order to break up the elevation. From an urban design standpoint, this may make perfect sense. Hello, datum line. But now your construction costs just went up. You have to transfer your mechanical lines, insulate the roof, introduce new bulkheads, and, for the purposes of this example, let’s say you now need to introduce a structural transfer. This is big cost item that you hadn’t accounted for. And because you just reduced the height of the building to satisfy another stakeholder, you don’t have the excess clear height to accommodate the additional depth required by this new structural element. There is, of course, always a solution. But usually something will need to give.
At the same time, this raises some interesting philosophical questions. What’s more important in this example? The urban design move or keeping construction costs low so that the building can be delivered more affordably? The cynics will argue that this is a moot point because developers will always profit maximize. But I would encourage you to check out some of my past posts, such as “Cost-plus pricing” and “The impact of inclusionary zoning on development feasibility.” This problem solving dynamic is one of the things that makes development so challenging. But it is also one of the things that makes it incredibly rewarding.
A bunch of people have asked me lately about what they should do if they want to get smarter on land use planning and on the entitlement process for development projects. It was specific to Toronto, but I don’t think my answer is specific to only this city.
I took a few planning classes in graduate school when I was in the US. But I was more focused on architecture and real estate, and so I did not leave school an expert by any means.
I learned about the failures of euclidian zoning and about things like the Low-Income Housing Tax Credit, which always seemed like a sensible supply-side tool to get the private sector to invest in affordable housing.
But what I have found most useful is to just read planning staff reports. These are the responses to actual development proposals and they show you how staff interpret the policies that are in place and how staff apply them to real buildings.
I may be in the minority in that I actually find these reports interesting. But regardless, they are a great crash course in planning and development approvals and they can help you manage your entitlement risk.
In my BARED post with Michael Cooper he described real estate development as being one of the most creative things you can do because of all of the constraints that one has to deal with. This certainly feels true on many days.
A lot of these constraints also create competing tensions. One example is the tension between what landowners want and what the city may want.
The value of development land is dependent on what you can build on it. It is, in theory at least, the residual claimant once you factor in all of your other development costs. But in a competitive land market, owners will naturally have high expectations around what their land is worth. And telling them about the intricacies of your residual claimant Excel model will fall on deaf ears if the output doesn’t match their expectations. They see what other land is selling for – even if the land use policies are entirely different – and they want the same or more.
So to make the math work, it often becomes about density. In practice, many financial models are probably working in the opposite direction to what I described above: here’s how much money the landowner needs to sell; now let’s figure out if we can get enough density to make this work.
Of course, the challenge with this approach is that you naturally start to push up against a ceiling with respect to density. Landowner wants more density. City wants less density. If I ever ran a development model today where this wasn’t the case, I would instinctively worry that my model wasn’t working properly.
And therein lies the tension: how can I give this landowner the money that she/he wants, but at the same time satisfy the city and the community, and build enough density such that the project doesn’t lose money? For the time being, ignore the archaeological dig that will need to be done on the site and the creek running underneath it that is going to add $2 million to your underground costs.
This is where you have to get creative. One potential solution is try and make the price dependent on achieved density. But not all landowners will go for this and sometimes the price spread is so great that even a density bonus isn’t going to close the gap.
I like to believe that there’s always a creative solution to every problem. Try and make it work. Don’t give up. But the reality is that in many cases the land just isn’t worth the asking price and you’re going to need to walk away. That can be sad, but it can also be the smart thing to do.
