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.
MyHamlet.com is a fascinating public records platform that monitors, transcribes, and indexes municipal and county government meetings across the US. Its primary job is to take unstructured and fragmented public data (such as meeting minutes and video recordings of council meetings) and turn it into searchable data for advocacy groups, real estate developers, and others.
The site covers over 2,400 cities and counties, and it allows you to easily uncover hard-to-ascertain data like public opinion on data centres:
Okay, you knew this already. But their other rankings include topics ranging from pickleball courts to missing middle housing (both of which seem to have broad support):
While it’s a great way to surface data that most people wouldn’t care to read otherwise, it naturally inherits the same structural bias of the public meeting format. In other words, the people who tend to engage and attend these meetings typically have both the time on their hands and a bone to pick. There need to be better ways to capture an accurate cross-section of public opinion.
Stephen Velasco maintains a wonderful set of models for Toronto showing existing, under-construction, and proposed/approved developments. Here’s his website and here’s an aerial he recently shared showing a large section of the city overlaid with subway and LRT stations.
What is abundantly clear from this visualization is the “grand bargain” that has guided development in Toronto for over two decades: we won’t touch most of the low-rise residential land in the city, and instead we will create high-rise pockets next to transit.
This was the path of least political resistance, and while building on top of and next to transit is obviously sound, the extreme density cliff we encouraged created several urban economic and city-building distortions.
Land became artificially scarce, even though there’s lots of room within the boundaries of Toronto. And high density became our only option, eliminating many other housing typologies for Torontonians. But perhaps most importantly, it created an urban fabric of dense nodes that in many cases aren’t actually urban.
What this means is that most of the city remains unwalkable, without urban amenities, and clogged with car traffic. The way to better use our existing transit infrastructure, create more amenity-rich communities, and reduce Toronto’s dependency on the car is to flank these isolated tower clusters with more evenly distributed density.
Towers on top of stations are, of course, good, but there then needs to be a gradient of 4-12 storey buildings across the surrounding avenues, major streets, and interior residential streets.
The good news is that we’re moving in this direction. It’s just going to take time for us to firmly strike a new grand bargain. But in my view, this city-building approach is going to guide the next two decades of development in Toronto.
Toronto, like all great cities, is in constant change and transition. I did a search through my blog archive this morning (okay, AI did) and I found it telling to see the things I was writing about and advocating for in the early days, some 10 years ago.
We used to talk about eradicating parking minimums, and it was a novelty whenever a new project was built with zero spaces. But now we don’t talk about that. Parking requirements? What are those? We let the market determine how much might be needed, if any at all.
We also used to talk a lot about laneway housing — a lot. For decades, daring architects and urbanists were navigating labyrinthian land-use approvals to build the odd one for themselves. Oftentimes they were only permitted if a pre-existing coach house was already on the site. But as a rule, laneway houses were bad and not permitted.
Critics were concerned that they would erode the fabric of our low-rise communities and overrun them with renters. I remember people telling me this to my face at committee meetings, and reading comments from folks who believed that laneways were unsavoury places, and so surely only questionable people would want to live in one.
Fast forward to today, and laneway and garden suites are standard practice across Toronto. They are no longer novel. They’re just part of the housing supply that Toronto now builds. In fact, in many new housing projects, they are the most desirable suite on the property.
Shifting scales, I also remember the challenges that the team initially faced in getting One Delisleapproved at the intersection of Yonge & St. Clair. At 155m, it was the tallest development approval at the time, and it’s currently the tallest constructed building in the submarket.
One of the criticisms was that it was not in keeping with the scale of the office buildings constructed at and around the intersection between the 1960s and the early 1980s. But is that where the line should be drawn? Let’s not forget that before its post-war development boom, Yonge & St. Clair was a predominantly low-rise area. Surely this jump in scale provoked similar concerns.
The planning deal that was struck over the last development cycle was that low-rise neighbourhoods would go largely untouched and that density would be concentrated around transit stations and in specific nodes. These nodes were the housing supply outlets. The inverse would have been to redevelop our low-rise neighbourhoods.
Today, the only comments I hear about One Delisle’s height are that it’s not tall enough given its beautiful architecture. Opinions clearly evolve, and sometimes the things we’re unsure about aren’t so bad after all. In fact, sometimes they can become a defining characteristic of a place.
Here’s a polarizing photo of the backyard of a house in Edmonton flanked by two multiplexes under construction. For additional drama, it was also taken with an ultra-wide lens, which is evident from the stretched-out walkway in the foreground. But even still, it is indeed a photo of a single-family house between two larger multi-unit buildings.
When I first saw the photo, via this tweet, I actually read it all wrong. What I thought was the concern — underutilized residential land — was not the concern. The concern was too much housing. More specifically, too much infill rental housing.
So much so that one of the next tweets I saw was the premier of Alberta, Danielle Smith, using this exact photo to say that the province would be coming over top of Edmonton to overturn its multiplex permissions and return the city to the “density and height rules that were in place before 2024” along with “common-sense minimum parking requirements.”
This, in my opinion, is provincial overreach (which sadly happens here in Toronto too) and a shortsighted approach to city-building. Now, I don’t know the address of this house (I tried to find it), nor would I be familiar with the area, but I do know that cities all across North America are taking an important and critical look at their low-rise neighbourhoods.
We know that many of them are unaffordable, car-oriented, and actively losing population. To turn back the clock and return to parking minimums is to restrict housing supply and signal that Edmonton is not yet prepared to be an urban leader in the 21st century. Alberta likes to tout its “free-market” brand, but of course this move is anything but.
From a planning perspective, Toronto’s low-rise Neighbourhoods are considered to be “physically stable” areas, meaning that any change must be gradual and sensitive to the existing scale. In practice, however, we know that these areas can be anything but stable once you look deeper.
A recent Globe and Mail analysis of census data for both Toronto and Vancouver once again reveals what we already know: Canadians are living longer, having fewer children, and consuming more square footage per person. The result is a declining population base in many — and in some cases most — parts of our already built-up areas.
The Globe compared figures from the 1971 and 2021 censuses for both Toronto and Vancouver, examining the population of “dissemination areas” – each one an area of a few blocks, typically home to about 500 people.
In the Vancouver region, 21 per cent of those areas declined in population over those 50 years, losing 76,424 people in total. Many other areas failed to keep up with the quick growth of the region.
In the Toronto region, the pattern is much more stark: Almost three-quarters of those established areas had declined by 2021, shedding a total of 540,789 people.
Here lies the irony: policies designed for stability led to losses equal to the size of a small city. And it’s one of the reasons why there’s such a groundswell of interest in intensifying existing neighbourhoods. It’s a way to correct for a demographic shift that has hollowed out neighbourhoods, closed schools, and left existing infrastructure underutilized.
Maybe we’ll even get them back to what they once were.
A blog reader sent me this article by Adam Clermont arguing that “Hong Kong was a 15-minute city before the rest of the world knew what to call it.” It’s great. He was right. I did find it interesting, so much so that I subscribed without really looking at what I was subscribing to.
Here’s an excerpt:
There are things Hong Kong does not do well. The apartments are small. Mine is small. I have made peace with this in the way that a man makes peace with anything, which is to say, incompletely and with occasional resentment. The rents are obscene. The air quality on bad days could strip paint off a Renault. Nobody is moving here for the spaciousness. But the fifteen-minute city crowd keeps talking about access, about proximity, about the ability to live a full urban life without depending on a car. And on that score, Hong Kong is not a case study. Hong Kong is the answer key that the rest of the world keeps trying to peek at while pretending they came up with it themselves.
His overarching argument compares Hong Kong to Paris. While Paris was busy talking and planning to be a 15-minute city — by redesigning its streets and removing space for cars — Hong Kong was already busy doing it, by accident and out of necessity.
While it is certainly true that Paris has undergone a deliberately planned urban transformation over the last decade or two, it’s worth pointing out that we’re talking about two of the most dense cities in the developed world.
Hong Kong is, of course, on another level of hyper density, but Paris, as we like to talk about on this blog, is also sneakily dense, despite its mid-rise heights.
The fact that both cities might be described as so-called 15-minute cities places them in a rarified universe, regardless of how deliberately or accidentally they may have ultimately gotten there. Not all cities have the benefit of density, and Paris already had lots of 15-minuteness before it became a buzzword and it started planning for it.
Adam has a line that “density is not a problem to be solved but a feature to be exploited,” and I would agree with this. However, the broader problem to be solved is how do you create this feature in the first place, if you don’t already have it?
Modern cities are typically not as dense. It is almost universally true that high urban densities are the result of necessity — physical constraints and/or economic gravity. Hong Kong is an island with no place to go but up. The same is true of Manhattan.
Paris is not an island, but it hemmed itself into practical equivalents over the centuries through fortified walls. Even today, the boundary of Paris proper is the Boulevard Périphérique, which sits where the city’s last defensive walls were built in the 19th century.
Dhaka, to throw out another example, is hemmed in by major waterways that flood every year like clockwork. Naturally, the city focused development on higher, safer ground, though there are informal settlements that have found ingenious ways to navigate its precarious waters.
Density may be a feature to be exploited, but it tends to happen best when there’s no other choice. That’s why Hong Kong is so good at it. The real problem to be solved is getting there when it’s not the only option.
Bologna, I’m told, is a city famous for its colonnades or porticoes. I’ve never been, but it’s a city that’s on my list. Bologna has 62 km of covered walkways, 40 km of which are in the city centre, and they are designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. They provide shade in the summer, and protection from rain during the winter. But how did this happen? What’s the legal structure underpinning them?
Bologna’s porticoes go back roughly a thousand years and, interestingly enough, they are a result not of some grand, top-down master plan, but of a ground-up, market response. Bologna was a dense, walled city, with a growing population. Space was at a premium and so unscrupulous developers and landlords started encroaching into the public right-of-way and cantilevering their buildings outward. Few people were apparently fussed.
The earliest evidence of a portico in Bologna seems to date back to the year 1041 — an example of private use of public land. But over time, the utility of these colonnades started to be more broadly appreciated. Not only did they protect pedestrians from the elements, but they allowed craftsmen to work outside of their workshops with natural light and with similar shelter.
Gradually, porticoes became obligatory (at least in some areas and on some sites). This then transferred the porticoes from private use of public land to public use of private land. Developers were forced to build them.
My understanding is that the vast majority of the porticoes exist today with this legal structure. The land is private, but the public enjoys an access easement in perpetuity. This means that private owners must pay to maintain these colonnades. It’s an example of what we often call here in Toronto a POPS space — a privately-owned, publicly accessible space.
These spaces took many centuries to become codified, but what I find most interesting is that they are a product of ground-up innovation. A more contemporary example of this is Tokyo, which is often considered to be an example of bottom-up planning. Here’s a book on the topic called Emergent Tokyo — Designing the Spontaneous City.
Turns out, Bologna’s beloved colonnades weren’t the product of visionary planning, but of Medieval squatters.
Very generally speaking, cities build skyscrapers because of some mix of natural market forces and symbolic prestige. In cities like New York and Hong Kong, where land is extremely scarce and valuable, the only option is to go up. Tall buildings are essential. And in cities like Dubai, I think it’s fair to say that symbolic prestige has been the greater motivator, at least at the outset of the city’s modern reinvention as a global city. Tall, over-the-top buildings helped put the city on the map, even when tall, over-the-top buildings weren’t necessary from a direct economic standpoint.
Another way to encourage tall buildings is to simply restrict everything else. Ontario’s Places to Grow Act of 2005 was well-intentioned. It was designed to encourage intensification, support transit investment, and curb urban sprawl. I believe that all of these things are desirable planning outcomes. But one of the ways that intensification was sold, politically, was that growth would only be directed to specific areas and that the preeminence of single-family housing in the region would not be in any way threatened.
The result is what has been pejoratively referred to as “tall and sprawl,” meaning tall buildings surrounded by vast swaths of low-density housing. It’s a built-form contrast that feels unnatural precisely because it is a market distortion created by policy. In a pure market without zoning constraints, the likely built-form outcome would be a smoother density gradient down from major urban nodes and transit stations (where land values tend to be higher). Of course, the Toronto region is filled with countless counterexamples of this.
Now, to be fair, good work is being done to address this missing layer of medium density, but we’re not there yet. And we’re still working through the supply of the last cycle. Rachelle Younglai recently published an article in The Globe and Mail called “Condo developers outside Toronto feeling the biggest strain from market’s downturn.” This is not surprising. Peripheral markets generally get hit the hardest during real estate downturns and take the longest to bounce back. But on top of this, there are suburban towers that probably didn’t need to get built. The economic imperative was tenuous but for the planning restrictions and the pre-construction condo market.
My suggestion would be to upzone the areas surrounding these towers and remove as many development constraints as possible, especially around transit nodes. This may seem paradoxical given we’re currently talking about excess supply, but the glut is likely a product mismatch problem. Allowing the surrounding areas to fill in invites the market to build what is most in demand, smooth out the density gradient, build amenities, and create destinations that could then lift the value of the entire node.
This is not an immediate solution, but it’s a path toward a more natural market outcome. Need a case study to point to? Look to Tokyo. 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.
“When you fall in love again, you don’t think about the ex very much.” —Travis Kalanick, co-founder of Uber, talking about how he feels about Uber today
You’d be forgiven for thinking that Travis Kalanick, co-founder of Uber, is back. Since leaving Uber heartbroken in 2017, he has been relatively quiet. But in his words, “I’ve been working my ass off the whole time. I just haven’t been talking about it.” Clearly. Last month, he announced that his startup Atoms had just raised $1.7 billion in equity. The round was led by venture firm a16z.
Atoms is an audacious business and I would encourage you to check out their website and read their vision. Travis describes his life’s work as “digitizing the physical world” and Atoms’ mission is “physical automation to transform industry and move the world.”
What that means — and what’s fascinating for us real estate people — is that he’s creating a physical AI company that uses single-purpose machines (as opposed to general-purpose humanoids like what Tesla has been promising for a number of years) to automate specialized tasks such as food preparation, resource extraction, and transport.
However, all of these “atoms” need to be stored and processed somewhere, and so Travis views land and real estate as a critical resource in the world of physical AI. He goes on to argue that real estate development is a “dramatically underappreciated” ingredient. Everyone in tech has been too focused on software. And he means it. I took a look at their careers section and they have dozens of real estate-related job postings across the world.
“Everything in our world, in our cities, in our civilization – look around you – is mined or grown – manufactured and moved. The next Golden Age will be upon us when the means of growing, mining, manufacturing and moving physical things becomes fully divorced from human labor.”
When you consider this vision and our current data centre boom, it’s not hard to imagine the potential impacts on our built environment. Our cities are bifurcating into two broad forms of real estate: machine-centred and human-centred real estate.
The machine-centred assets might service our online lives or the physical world, as is the case with Atoms, but they won’t necessarily need to engage with their broader environment or have things like windows, climate control, and even lights. They are “black boxes” for machines.
Human-centred assets are, on the other hand, the sort of spaces that we talk about on this blog: walkable, human-scaled communities where people genuinely want to live, work and play. This, in my view, is the divide we are headed toward and it’s going to mean a reconfiguration of our urban areas and a repricing of real estate assets.
Intuitively, I think this will only enhance the value of human-centred assets. We are going to want what is scarce: authentic human connections, beautiful architecture, and differentiated people-first experiences.
One of the really positive things that is happening in the world of Toronto land use planning is that the minimum scale of development that is permitted as-of-right continues to grow. We’ve gone from fourplexes to 6-storey apartments, and now we’re talking about mid-rise buildings (6-11 storeys) and even some tall buildings (12 storeys or more).
What this ultimately means is being able to build without a rezoning application. That means no site specific negotiation, and no fighting over whether the building should be 32 meters tall or 30.5 meters tall with a 2.4 meter stepback because of shadowing concerns on someone’s heritage-designated garden gnome. It means getting under construction sooner.
Expand the number of streets designated as “Avenues” throughout Toronto (Avenues are a defined term and where we have decided that mid-rise buildings should go)
New Official Plan policies that would encourage more mid-rise buildings on Avenues
Eliminate the rear angular plane requirement (currently a mid-rise performance standard); this is expected to produce ~30% more homes in your typical mid-rise development
Increase as-of-right permitted heights to 6-11 storeys (the city estimates that this will unlock ~61,000 additional homes)
Introduce “transition zones” between Avenues and low-rise neighborhoods, which could then accommodate things like low-rise towns and apartments up to 4 storeys (it’s worth noting that transition zones were initially part of Toronto’s mid-rise performance standards but then got removed for some reason)
This is meaningful progress. Let’s enact and keep going.
