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.
I finally visited Gusto 501 over the weekend. The place is amazing — both the food and the architecture. And I don’t know about you, but the food always seems to taste better when you’re surrounded by great design. If you haven’t yet been, I would strongly encourage you to go. Designed by PARTISANS for restaurateur Janet Zuccarini, it’s a 6,700 square foot multi-level complex made for the consumption of Italian food and drink. Now, I could go on about its elaborate clay walls, its vast double height spaces, and its massive operable glass facade (supposedly it’s one of the biggest anywhere). But really the best thing to do here is just show you. So here you are. All photos by Nic Lehoux. Architecture by PARTISANS. (Don’t mind the snow. It’s actually lovely in Toronto right now.)
Canada's Sugar Beach is celebrating double digits next week! After 10 years of enjoying sun and sand right downtown, it's hard to imagine the shoreline without those pink umbrellas. Swipe to see what this Toronto favourite looked like before we built it. pic.twitter.com/1BH5acNpXa
One of my favorite public spaces in the city is easily Sugar Beach at the foot of Jarvis Street. So I couldn’t resist sharing this before and after tweet by Waterfront Toronto. Sugar Beach turns 10 years old next week. It’s nearly a teenager.
For those of you who were around and paying attention a decade ago, there was a bit of controversy over the cost of this park — specifically its pink umbrellas. The budget for the park was $14 million and each umbrella cost $11,000.
It’s one of those things that’s easy to single out and make a big deal out of — if that’s what you’re trying to do. “How much? $11,000 for a candy pink beach umbrella? Come on.”
But as Waterfront Toronto explained in this blog post from 2014, each umbrella was fabricated out of a solid piece of fiberglass and was designed to withstand hurricane winds, as well as a good old fashioned Toronto winter. They also serve as lighting for the beach at night.
Part of this is coming from lessons they learned on previous waterfront parks, where the umbrellas weren’t as expensive and haven’t been as resilient to the elements. So there is a whole life cycle cost analysis to be considered here.
Now I don’t profess to be an expert on candy pink beach umbrellas, but I will say this: Sugar Beach wouldn’t be Sugar beach without them. And ten years later, it’s easy to argue for this being one of the most successful public spaces in the city.
P.S. If I could make one small request for Toronto’s waterfront, it’s that we need to better engage the lake. We need proper places to swim. Think of the Strandbad Tiefenbrunnen or the Seebad Enge in Zurich. We may need to tidy things up a little, but it’ll be worth it.
Netflix has a new docuseries out about Latin American street food. I watched two episodes of it last night. The first was about a chef from Buenos Aires, Argentina and the second was about a chef — named Dona Suzana — from Salvador, Brazil. Even if you aren’t necessarily into food shows, it’s a good way to remind yourself just how much you probably miss traveling right now.
The story of Dona Suzana is an interesting one. Before opening her restaurant, she was doing laundry in order to make ends meet. Then at one point, the City of Salvador came to her community in order to undertake a large construction project. They needed someone to cook food for the construction workers and so they asked her if she would do it.
Since she had always dreamed of being a chef, she jumped at the opportunity and took out a loan to buy everything she needed in order to fit out her kitchen. She cooked for the workers and everyone loved the food. But she never ended up getting paid. They stiffed her.
That turned her off cooking for a bit and it was not until a trio of graffiti artists were working in her community and looking for a place to eat that she tried her hand at it again. They offered to pay her in advance and persuaded her to make them something. She agreed and the food was a huge hit.
In fact, the group of artists loved the food so much that they made her a sign with the name “RéRestaurante” (titled this way because Dona has a stutter) and began sharing photos of her dishes on social media. All of a sudden she had people showing up at her door. And today she has people from all around the world showing up at her door.
This is a wonderful success story. But I think it also says something about land use policies. As far as I can tell from the episode, she setup her restaurant at her place of residence — a community along the waterfront where her husband fishes and where she uses his catches for her renowned dishes.
Here in Toronto, we are operating in an environment where if you try and setup a coffee shop in a residential “Neighbourhood” — like, for example, Contra at 1028 Shaw Street — you might spend a few years fighting with your neighbors and battling it out at LPAT hearings in order to get the appropriate permissions.
I’m not necessarily suggesting that we should do away with all zoning (or maybe I am). But I would like to draw your attention to this contrast. Because one has to wonder whether RéRestaurante Dona Suzana would exist today and be known around the world had the barriers to entry not been so low for her. Of course, had there been more rules, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten stiffed the first time around.
Either way, I am currently in the market for some dende oil.
Back in March of this year, which seems like a very long time ago, I wrote about how One Delisle came to be and how City Planning at the City of Toronto were recommending approval of its development application. Well today I am thrilled to announce that, after two deferrals, these recommendations were adopted (with some amendments) by Toronto and East York Community Council. Though it will still need to go through City Council on July 28, 2020, this milestone is a big deal for the project. It’s now time for the next chapter in this story. So stay tuned. For those of you who are new to One Delisle and would like a bit of background, here is a good place to start.
Architect Barton Myers has his home in Montecito, California on the market right now for $8.2 million. In addition to his own residence, the 38-acre site also houses his studio and a guesthouse, all of which have roll-up garage doors so that you can enjoy that perfectly benign California climate. The estate is quintessentially Myers and it’s obviously awesome. Here is the listing from Sothebys. (I tried to street view the address but was only successful at locating what I think is its mailbox. What a natural setting.)
For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the work of Myers, he is considered one of Toronto’s most influential architects. After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania and working with architect Louis Kahn for a few years, he moved to Toronto in the late 1960s to take up a teaching position at the University of Toronto. He then started his own architecture practice with Jack Diamond (also an alumnus of the University of Pennsylvania) and remained a principal of Diamond and Myers until 1975.
Myers moved on to start his own firm — Barton Myers Associates — that same year and became known for notable projects such as 19 Berryman Street in Yorkville (Myers’ own residence) and the Wolf House at 51 Roxborough Drive, which was Architectural Record’s House of the Year in 1977. Probably the most distinguishing characteristic of his work is his use of exposed industrial materials, which is, of course, something that is on display in Montecito. But he managed to deploy these materials in a way that made them feel high-brow. His homes also feel very California to me.
In 1984, he opened up an office in Los Angeles and eventually his practice in Toronto was shutdown. But not before leaving a lasting legacy in Toronto. For a map of all the firm’s North American projects, click here.
Currently, if you’re building an Ancillary Secondary Dwelling Unit (such as a laneway suite) in the City of Toronto, you can defer the payment of any development charges for 20 years from the date that a building permit is issued for the unit. But really what this means is that, if you don’t do anything bad for 20 years (event of default), you won’t have to pay anything. The payable charge goes to $0 at the end of the term and the agreement goes away. Cool.
So what are some of the bad things that you’re not supposed to do?
Well the main thing is that you’re not allowed to create a new lot at any point during the 20-year deferral period. This is because the laneway suite policies are designed to encourage the creation of new rental housing and not new for sale housing. So you can’t sever off the back of your lot. The other thing you need to do is make sure that if you were to ever sell your property that the new owner(s) assumes these same obligations.
This all makes sense.
There is some fine print to consider. The payable development charge amount that the City enters into these agreements is the rate for single detached dwellings. Currently that figure is $76,830. This is more than double what you would have to pay if you, well, just paid the DCs for your ancillary secondary unit instead of deferring them. The reason for this is because, if you do do something bad such as sever your property, you’ve now no longer built an ancillary secondary unit. You’ve built a detached dwelling. Rates go up.
Moral of the story: Don’t create a new lot. For more information on the program, click here.
P.S. I’m not a lawyer. Please don’t take this post as any sort of legal advice. This post was also revised from its original version to correct a misunderstanding on my part.
On the east side of Toronto is a north-south street called Craven Road. It runs from Queen Street in the south to Danforth Avenue in the north. It’s an odd street in that there are only homes on one side of it — the east side. The west side is fenced off. No garages. No laneway suites. Just one long fence separating Craven Road from the backyards belonging to the homes on neighboring Ashdale Avenue. Given that Craven Road is a real city street with things like services and a name, you might be wondering, as I did, why this condition exits. Surely the people on Ashdale Avenue would be better off if they took proper advantage of their “through lots.”
What gives?
Turns out there is a reason for this and it dates back to the beginning of the 20th century. Before 1923, Craven Road was actually called Erie Terrace. It began its life as a smaller laneway outside of the city and was initially home to a “shacktown.” The street was a kind of linear slum, housing new immigrants and providing a place for people to cheaply throw up whatever they could afford to build.
For a variety of reasons, Erie Terrace eventually became a problem and the City decided that it would be best to widen the street from its varying 18 foot width to the then standard 33 feet. The widening work was authorized in 1911. But as is always the case, there were a few problems. Who would pay for it? The City would pay for a bit of it, but the expectation was that the residents along Erie Terrace would also chip in. And since Erie Terrace was technically a one-sided street, they were in effect being asked to pay double what was typical at the time. Usually the burden would get split across both sides of the street.
There was also a socioeconomic question. The residents on Ashdale Avenue were thought to be wealthier than those on Erie Terrace and so they supposedly wanted the squalor out of their backyards. The City also had concerns that residents along Ashdale would use this double frontage to do wild and crazy things, such as build garages, sheds, and backyard cottages. Clearly there would be no room for such oddities after the widening.
I’m not sure which problem proved to be the thorniest, but ultimately a solution was found. Erie Terrace would be widened, but the City would retain a small sliver of land on the west side of it and erect a wooden fence in perpetuity. This would keep both groups separate and ensure that the folks on Ashdale — who had contributed some of their land, but not any money — didn’t get use of the road. And it has remained this way for over a century.
If you ask me, it seems silly to keep this fence up. This is an ideal street to infill with laneway suites and other missing middle-type housing. But I’m sure I’m not the first person to stumble upon this east end anachronism. For a more detailed history lesson on the Craven Road fence, click here.
What is the right way to do heritage preservation? How should you approach an addition to an existing building? I was reminded of this topic this week, which then reminded me of a post I wrote last summer when this issued flared up in Ottawa because of the “Chateau Laurier battle.” The takeaway from last year’s post was this: “We cannot recreate the past, only parody it.” Indeed, the Province of Ontario maintains that “legibility” is an important principle in the conservation of built heritage properties. People should be able to distinguish the new from the old. Don’t blur the distinction.
I will also say that in architecture school they instil in you the ideas that buildings should be honest, they should reflect the current milieu, and that materials should be truthful. What this loosely means is that you want to use materials where they are most appropriate and you want to reveal their true nature. Don’t pretend that things are something they are not. i.e. Don’t be fake. At the same time, I very early on learned that most people don’t give a shit about the kind of nuanced and theoretical discussions that happen within architecture schools. They like what they like.
And there’s a big segment of the market that wants buildings to look as they did a long time ago. They want tradition. They want historic. Or they at least want some sort of “transitional” style that sits somewhere between old and kind of new. They want architects like Robert A.M. Stern and Richard Wengle, both of which are extremely popular and talented. So really, who am I to judge? As most of you will know, I’m a modernist. I am more interested in the future than I am in the past. But I recognize that the past is important and should not be forgotten. How best to do that is up for debate.
In Toronto we have a street named Avenue Road. If you’re learning about this for the first time, you might be wondering: “Well, is it an avenue or is it a road?” Then again, does that sort of distinction even matter? Does it imply certain characteristics? When I think of an avenue, I think of a broad and straight tree-lined street. And indeed, Avenue Road is connected to a street called University Avenue, which is pretty straight, broad, and has trees lining it. It’s a ceremonial kind of street that leads you toward the Ontario Legislative Building. It fits my definition. And so maybe Avenue Road is really saying, “Yeah, I know I’m not an avenue in the traditional sense, but I eventually connect into one and so I have decided to use both names.”
It could also be the case that we haven’t always been that meticulous when naming our roads. Or perhaps we simply changed the way we designed and thought about our streets as we sprawled outward, and along with that came some name changes. In the oldest parts of Toronto, the main streets tend to be exactly that — streets. And our secondary streets are often named as avenues. This is the opposite of a place like Manhattan, where avenues are the broad north-south streets that take you downtown and uptown, and streets are the smaller east-west roads that take you across the narrower part of the island. Here there is a very clear logic. Avenues are big. Streets are small.
Looking at this road name map of London by Giuseppe Sollazzo (click here if you can’t see it above), it’s obvious that London’s street network is pretty much the opposite of New York’s rational street grid. But you can see what appears to be a clear graduation from streets (in the center) to roads and then to some sort of melange that seems to include a bunch more avenues. They may just be street names, but they to speak to a whole host of things, including the evolution of our cities, changing attitudes toward city planning, and naturally the adoption of new kinds of mobility. They also make for nerdy maps.
The submission documents for 1200 Bay Street — the supertall being designed by Herzog & de Meuron and Quadrangle Architects — are now publicly available through the City of Toronto’s development applications website. I went through the plans today out of curiosity. Below are the typical residential floors. The three tranches shown here are floors 19-46, 48-79, and 81-84. Note the side elevator core and the east-west shear walls — both of which I was expecting to see.
And here are some of the main project stats:
Site area after laneway widening: 890.1 square meters
Total gross floor area (residential & non-residential): 54, 898 square meters
Floor space index: 61.67
Building height (excluding mechanical penthouse): 324 meters
Number of residential suites: 332
Vehicular parking spaces proposed: 0
Bicycle parking spaces proposed: 673
As a rule and out of professional courtesy, I do not comment on other people’s projects on this blog (other than to occasionally point out awesome and ambitious projects). But I do enjoy going through drawing sets to see what others are doing and to see what I might learn. And I am similarly happy to collaborate with others who may want to learn from what we are doing.
