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.
Most of us are aware that most of our cities have traffic cameras, which are setup to photograph us doing bad things and then to send us bills in the mail. I can’t say I’ve ever wondered how effective these camera systems are or how much they actually collect, but in case you’re curious, here is one example from the City of London.
The camera is setup in the busy Bank Junction, which from 7AM to 7PM on weekdays has been off limit to any vehicles other than buses and cyclists since 2017. If you disobey the restrictions, you’re hit with a £130 penalty, although if you pay within 14 days, the penalty drops to £65.
Between 2019 and 2021 (so during COVID, when traffic volumes were less), total penalties paid were £15.2 million. I don’t know how many people paid on-time or paid late, but based on these numbers, the number of delinquent incidents over the past three 3 years was anywhere from 116k (everybody paid late) to 233k (everybody paid on-time).
I also don’t know how many repeat offenders there where, which is why I said incidents and not drivers, but I’m guessing that there were more than a few repeat offenders. I wonder how many were taxi and Uber drivers.
This is a great diagram from Smart Density comparing the urban and regional rail networks of Toronto, London, and Paris. All are at the same scale.
What immediately stands out to me — besides Toronto’s relatively miniscule network — is Paris’ compactness. I have said this before on the blog (here, here, and here), but I will say it again: There seems to be a tendency to fetishize the scale and height of Paris.
But building height is only one component of its ubiquitous built form. Unlike Toronto, we’re not talking about midrises built up against single-family homes. Paris is far more dense and its buildings are far closer together (usually with interior courtyards)
Nabr, which I wrote about last year over here, recently announced its first residential project in San Jose’s SoFA district. Named SoFA One, the project is expected to have 125 apartments that will be offered up on a hybrid lease, own, and lease-to-own model. In this latter scenario, the company is saying that people will be able to buy with as little as 1% down. Construction isn’t scheduled to start until later this year, but if you’d like to get early access, you can add yourself to their waitlist, here.
As a reminder, Nabr is touting itself as a direct-to-consumer real estate company that aims to bring the same manufacturing and supply chain efficiencies that we have seen in virtually all other industries to the production of housing. This, of course, is not a new ambition. The flatlining of construction productivity is well documented, and lots of architects, builders, and entrepreneurs have tried to innovate in this space over the years. But it’s clearly a notoriously difficult problem to solve. So the obvious question here is: What is going to make Nabr any different?
Nabr is trying to productize housing. To do this, they’re building a vertically integrated process, going deep into supply chains, and trying to standardize their product offering as much possible. In the case of SoFA One, the base building is expected to consist of a CLT loft-style frame that can then be fitted out with various interior offerings. The idea here is that 90% of the build will be a repeatable system but that the remaining 10% is something that their customers will be able to customize — similar to when you’re buying a new car. The car is the same, but would you like black leather or brown leather?
Continuing with the car analogy, the company is also taking a move out of Tesla’s playbook for how they plan to roll out their products. The plan is to start at the top of the market (like what Tesla did with its expensive roadster) and then move downmarket as they drive efficiencies and cost savings in their delivery process. What they are trying to do is find the compounding innovation that has been present in most industries but that has been noticeably lacking from construction.
This all sounds great, but we know that buildings have a myriad of unique challenges compared to other products like cars and smartphones. My iPhone is the same as your iPhone, except for maybe the color and the case I put on it. But each development site is unique. Some have a high water table below it and some don’t. Some have adjacencies that will impact how you need to build and some don’t.
Each jurisdiction also has unique codes and regulations — everything from urban design guidelines to more or less stringent seismic requirements. Some cities have snow and some cities don’t. The list goes on. So what Nabr is going to have to do is create regionalized products with as much repetition as possible. And if they can generally lock the ~90% base building systems and just adjust the balance as needed, maybe that’s enough to do it.
At the end of the day, our industry is not completely void of innovation. It’s just a bit slow to change. We never used to build skyscrapers, but now we do. So I’ve decided to cast my developer cynicism aside. Today, we don’t have truly productized housing, but maybe we will.
As an aside, Nabr also recently shared their leaderboard of cities where people want to see a future Nabr building. Those cities are New York, London, Los Angeles, Toronto, and San Francisco.
Berlin is considering something pretty radical. A grass roots movement called Volksentscheid Berlin Autofrei, or the People’s Decision for Auto-Free Berlin, is trying to turn the entire core of the city into a car-free zone. (There would be some exceptions and so we should maybe call it primarily car free.)
The area in question is everything inside of the city’s circular S-Bahn train line (pictured above), which would make it the largest car-free zone or mostly car-free zone in the world. It’s larger than Manhattan and it’s about the size of London’s zones 1 and 2, to help give you a sense of the scale.
So far the group has collected about 50,000 supportive signatures and, according to Fast Company, the Senate of Berlin is set to make a decision on the proposal next month. I have no idea how much community and/or political momentum this actually has, but I love how bold of an idea this is.
Is it too bold?
Again, it is perhaps useful to flip the question and use Seth Godin’s status-quo-bias-checker model when thinking about this. If the center of Berlin was already car free and a community group had just come forward with a plan to now allow vehicles, how do you think you’d feel? I could see that being contentious.
When I was younger and looking for any excuse to travel (I’m not sure this has changed), there were periods of time where I “lived” for weeks and months in hotels and in spaces that today we would characterize as co-living. I always liked the idea of living in a hotel. It was carefree. There were amenities. And you got to meet people from all around the world.
Well it turns out that these kinds of living arrangements aren’t just attractive to poor university students. We have seen a proliferation of different living and hospitality concepts over the years, and I don’t see this trend slowing down. A recent example, which I just learned about via Globetrender, is “the Other House”. Their first location, pictured, above, is scheduled to open this spring in London’s South Kensington.
The founder refers to it as a “residents’ club”, and the idea is for it to sit somewhere between a hotel, a serviced apartment, and your typical long-term apartment rental. Each “Club Flat” will have a separate living area and bedroom, as well as a kitchenette for cooking. And guests will be able to stay for as long as they would like — anywhere from one night to more than a year.
Why this is potentially innovative is that the company is looking to combine the best of a few different worlds here. For example, hotels are great because they offer flexibility, amenities, and a carefree lifestyle, but they’re often missing the sense of belonging/home that you get from more conventional longer-term housing.
The Other House hopes to fix this through what you might call the “hotelization” of residential real estate. They’re investing in design and in creating the right experience, but they’re also doing things like offering storage facilities for their residents. The idea here is that if you need to travel somewhere else for a few weeks, there’s a place to store all of your personal belongings so that everything is waiting for you when you return “home.”
Pricing is still TBD. But supposedly the average room rate is anticipated to be around £250 per night, with rates obviously coming down for longer stays. I am curious to see how this concept does in London. While it is not entirely novel, it is decidedly urban. It is an another example of design, location, and experience being privileged over raw square footage.
They don’t have much up on their website just yet. But if you’d like to follow them on the socials, you can do that over here.
The Financial Times published an article this week talking about the record number of homes that Londoners bought outside of the boundaries of the city this past year. The total was about 112,780 homes worth some £54.9 billion — again, it was a record in terms of total value.
The argument is that this pandemic continues to fuel decentralization, flexible working arrangements, and greater demand for larger spaces. Housing preferences have permanently changed. And the suggested takeaway is that this dynamic might have “serious consequences for the city’s population and housing market.”
But of course, I’m going to question whether this is really the case. The ~£55 billion number is clearly a new high according to the article. The previous record was £36.6 billion back in 2007. But that doesn’t give you the full picture because homes cost a lot more today than they did back then.
If you look at the total number of homes purchased outside of the city by Londoners, the record still belongs to 2007 with approximately 113,640 homes. When I see this number it makes me pause.
Because here we are living through a global pandemic and the largest work from home experiment in modern history, and yet the total number of homes purchased outside of the city this past year is still comparable to that of the last housing cycle.
Did this moment in time really create an anomalous and irreversible shift in housing preferences?
Eric Jaffe, of Sidewalk Labs, recently wrote about an interesting research paper — from the Journal of the American Planning Association — that looked at the developer response to an inclusionary zoning policy change in London. The full research paper can be found over here.
The change was an expansion to existing mandatory IZ policies. Between 2005 and 2008, each of the 33 local authorities in Greater London reduced the minimum threshold for new housing projects. Previously it only applied to new developments with 15 or more units, but it was reduced to projects with 10 or more units. In other words, projects with a total of 10-14 units were now subject to IZ, whereas they were previously exempt.
These feel like small unit counts, but I guess it speaks to the scale of development happening in London. You generally need pretty high prices to make these kinds of boutique projects pencil out. By comparison, the IZ threshold here in Toronto is expected to be 100 or more units.
In any event, here’s what happened in London:
Before the policy change developers were effectively building up to the 14 unit mark (to avoid IZ). Following that new supply dropped off. After the change, developers simply adjusted their project sizes and built more projects with less than 10 units.
Interestingly enough, the researchers found that there was generally no net loss of new homes during the study period (2004 to 2014); developers simply built more projects with lower unit counts. But more importantly, the team discovered that the policy change only kind of worked.
The increase in affordable housing was modest. The researchers uncovered a net increase of two affordable units per borough, per year, among projects within the 10-14 unit band. That’s something. But London is a big place.
Of course, this is a response to a particular kind of policy change in a particular kind of market. Development is a local business and it’s oftentimes hard to generalize. But it does speak to the fact that there are nuances, complexities, and market distortions to consider when it comes to land use policies.
This article from the Guardian about two Brutalist housing estates in London is now more than five years old. But the story is perhaps just as interesting. The article is about two “New Brutalism” estates that were designed and built in the 1960s and 1970s.
The first is the Barbican Estate (which appeared recently on the blog over here) and the second is Robin Hood Gardens (pictured above, partially). Both were designed by notable architects and both have been equally divisive when it comes to their aesthetic appeal. We’re talking about Brutalism. So it’s likely that you either love them or hate them.
One of the big differences between these two housing complexes is that one is a private estate and the other is (or was) social housing. And perhaps because of this, the Barbican has remained desirable and Robin Hood Gardens was ultimately demolished starting in 2017. This is despite numerous outcries from the architecture and design community that it should be both preserved and listed.
We could get into questions of funding and maintenance, as well as the design differences between the two complexes (I don’t have any of these details), but even without all of this, I find these two divergent outcomes pretty interesting. Architecture, it would seem, isn’t everything.
Alexis Self has an opinion piece in today’s Monocle Minute (email newsletter) that deals with development in London and NIMBYism. Here’s an excerpt:
Affluent, socially liberal city dwellers can be the most extreme Nimbys. But perhaps their ire wouldn’t be so fierce if what was being built weren’t so aesthetically offensive. In the postwar era, London’s councils teemed with ambitious urban planners. The result: design classics such as Trellick Tower in Kensal Green, the Barbican Estate and Camden’s Alexandra Road Estate. While it’s true that these were labelled ugly at the time, they were undeniably the work of Europe’s best architects. Few, if any, of the city’s 21st-century edifices will enjoy a similar reappraisal.
Alexis raises two interesting points: 1) Could better architecture and design actually help to quash NIMBY sentiment and 2) are we really not designing and building like we used to?
Designed by Chamberlin, Powell and Bon in the 1960s, the Barbican is a residential complex with somewhere around 2,000 apartments. It’s considered a prominent example of British brutalist architecture and so most of it is listed.
While certainly noteworthy, it strikes me that it is likely one of those pieces of architecture that designers and architects love (I like it), but that the general public dislikes. In fact, architect Witold Rybczynski once argued that, “if people don’t hate it, it can’t be Brutalist.”
Brutalism is having a bit of a renaissance. Kind of. But I don’t think we’re anywhere near universal appreciation. So I wonder if the general public really views these “design classics” as being some sort of golden era of British architecture and development.
I also think, and I have argued this before on the blog, that buildings sometimes take time to settle in. From Montreal to Stockholm, our perceptions have been shown to change. The things we disliked before suddenly become desirable.
Which means it can be hard to tell if we objectively dislike something (we’re not building like we used to) or if it’s simply not old enough for us to starting appreciating it. Beauty also happens to be a kind of subjective thing when it comes to buildings. Turns out we’re better at assessing whether people are good looking.
This is probably a good time to come back to point number one: Could better architecture help quash NIMBYism?
Not quite. I would argue that it certainly helps but it won’t completely quash it. I believe wholeheartedly in the power of great design. I want everything to be beautiful and considered. But the cynical developer in me knows that it will sadly only go so far.
Béton brut (raw concrete) isn’t for everyone, I guess.
British designer Paul Smith was recently interviewed by Monocle on Design about his recent collaboration with BMW and Mini. If you like Mini cars, you’ll probably like the episode. But he also raises two interesting points about his business and about how he approaches design.
The first is that his business is a balancing act. In the front, he wants it to be pioneering, flashy, and self-indulgent. But in the back, he keeps the lights on by selling lots of navy blue suits and polo shirts. Both are important, because if you stop pioneering then you stop being relevant.
The second point he makes is about how he approaches design. Paul Smith’s London studio is famously cluttered. He likes to collect a lot of stuff. Some might call it hoarding. But for him, the space helps him think laterally and also remain “childlike.” (Where we work apparently matters.)
Children, as we know, are honest, curious, and free in a way that adults aren’t. They don’t have the same reference points and that can be very empowering. Forget the way that things are currently done and challenge yourself: “What if?” I like that a lot.
To listen to the Monocle on Design episode, click here.
