Praise for Small Mixed-Use Buildings, Build the Next Right Thing, Seth Zeren, March 17, 2022

I appreciate these little shops not only for their utility, but also because they do so much to increase the interest and vitality of a neighborhood. When I walk around my neighborhood, the daytime activity means there are people about, people inside storefront windows, eyes on the street, shop displays to look at, people to watch. In a real sense, these little shops do more to humanize a neighborhood than the multitude of apartments around (largely empty by day, with their shades drawn at night). Because they are generally pretty small, these storefronts are also typically pretty affordable, creating a niche for new businesses and entrepreneurs to get established and grow their businesses.

This is kind of a subtle point: that density doesn’t mean vitality or urbanity, per se. While a critical mass of people are necessary for that, they are not sufficient.

While this is largely a zoning issue (separation of uses i.e. no commercial in residential zones), it’s also a building code issue:

When you add a commercial unit, in most jurisdictions, the building moves from the “residential” code to the “commercial” code. This has a number of consequences, most significantly it usually triggers expensive sprinkler requirements (though sometimes we grandfather existing buildings without sprinklers), more expensive fire alarm systems, and other added costs, such that building a little commercial unit can be more expensive than the same area just being an apartment. But are all these added costs really necessary to have a therapist’s office on the ground floor? We should right-size our building codes to allow these small commercial uses under the less stringent residential building codes so that we can make these small mixed-use buildings economically viable once again.

What this says to me is that we failed to evolve a land-use regulatory regime that actually described and ordered the built landscape that planners and engineers inherited. Instead we created a code for something new and found what was existing to be out of order. This is the fundamental conceptual mistake with American land use: not that suburbia exists, but that suburban-style codes were imposed even on the old cities. The good thing is, we can fix it.

Repurposing leftovers, Whole and Holy, Sara Dietz, September 2, 2024

Gosh is this interesting. There are many of the themes I think about here—convenience, consumerism, what it means to run a home, when you should put in unpleasant effort and when you should let yourself off the hook, how being a Christian should influence how we do or think about mundane things.

There’s also an interesting implication that the convenience of walkability is a kind of artificial or illegitimate perk, and that greater virtue is found is being thrifty and resourceful:

One of the habits I got into at our old apartment was a direct result (and likely a direct cause) of this struggle with meal planning. We lived across the street from a mini-Walmart grocery store, so if I found myself struggle to put a meal together by 4:00pm, I’d just load the girls up into the stroller (we all needed the walk anyway, right?) and bop on over to Walmart. Some days I might just buy the one or two ingredients that I forgot to pick up on our big grocery run; other days, I’d grab something from the frozen section and stick it right in the oven when we got home.

In general, I think this was a good thing for me during the first three years of parenting. Two under two was difficult, in a lot of ways, and not having anxiety about meal prepping or running out of key ingredients was a blessing, albeit a blessing I sometimes abused. (Looking at you, pack of three cookies for one dollar right at the front of the store.)…

All this to say, I’m feeling reflective today, examining my conscience (and my subconscious) for areas where I’m “running to Walmart” when the Lord is inviting me to try “making a pasta bake”.

Obviously I disagree with that implication, if Dietz even intends to make it, but there’s something there. Incidentally, walking around our hometown, my best friend and I last week were thinking about this. I’ll be writing about that too, on Monday.

Heartbreak is the National Anthem (Taylor’s Version), Family Matters, Patrick T. Brown, September 20, 2024

There’s been a lot of bizarre stuff about Taylor Swift from the right, but this is actually interesting and thoughtful. Brown ties some of Swift’s lyrics to the work of family scholars and, importantly, the observation that there’s at least as much of a men-aren’t-measuring-up story as there is a women-don’t-think-they-need-men story.

Even though she has it all, she still yearns for the stability of commitment. And for all the jibes at “childless cat ladies,” including the self-deprecating ones, my impression is that many Swifties would themselves like to see their own love story end with saying yes. But it takes two to tango.

Also:

If Swift and Travis Kelce were able to model for America’s young adults what a healthy example could look like — of confident masculinity, mutual interdependence, and commitment between two high-status peers who actively want to trade optionality for permanence — it might even help kickstart some conversations.

Maybe? This reminds me of something I wrote, oddly enough about New York City’s congestion-pricing scheme:

It feels like there’s some invisible barrier, some force, that just stops it all. And over time, people absorb that spirit—nothing ever gets done, nothing ever gets completed, everything is delayed and over budget, big things always get bargained down and cut back or scrapped. Doing things gets filed away in your brain in the same slot as not doing things.

I can’t help but think about the other big things people are increasingly not doing—getting married, having kids, buying houses, building houses—and I can’t help but wonder how much of our cultural malaise could evaporate if a few big things could just get done.

I wonder if it’s naive and almost condescending to think people would be so easily influenced. But on the other hand, a lot of human behavior is doing what people around you do, and a lot of our attitudes are absorbed from our surroundings. And if our surroundings communicate a sense of stuckness, maybe that seeps into our lives and our decision-making.

The Absurdity of the Organized Pantry, Silly Magic Eight Ball, Amy Mrotek, September 5, 2024

This is a fun piece poking fun at a certain kind of upper-middle-class conspicuous consumption:

It’s the lush table spreads lined with eclectic yet complementary tableware, funky antique candelabras, table linens and matching runners, polished wine glasses, mood lighting. It’s the bespoke themed batch cocktail pre-made, ready to pour as soon as your guests arrive. It’s the kitsch funky dress code of footie pajamas, or pastels, or springtime in Paris, or wear-your-favorite-dress-you-never-get-to-wear, or dress like your partner. It’s the obligatory bring a bottle of wine. It’s your friend beaming because you offhand complimented her cool stoneware bowls, and you meant that compliment, but now she’s assuring you it’s all thrifted, in fact she got lucky, she just seems to stumble into the cutest places, and oh no, please don’t check her recent Amazon Prime order history.

More:

If this reads a bit silly, that’s because it is. Most of this piece was inspired by the fact I just dislike The Container Store. Plain and simple. That was the OG thought seed. That place gives me the ick. Always has. I drove past one to and from my twiggly teen job at Cinnabon at my local mall, where indeed that absurd framework for an entire retail chain never ceased to put me in a weird mood and has conceptually haunted my psyche ever since.

When did it become not enough to simply have your friends over? No themes, no decor, no hoopla. You don’t need a lot of stuff to throw a good party. You aren’t a better woman because you can teleport your backyard to the south of France. Just keep the cereal in its box.

It’s a funny thing: I like The Container Store—mostly because the quality of the stuff is usually solid, and because it feels like a semi-old-fashioned kind of store, that carries one broad category and offers far more depth and variation than the perfunctory half an aisle in a discount department store.

But the point of the piece is the sheer amount of time and money that goes into “perfectly organizing” a home, putting on a perfectly decorated party, etc. And like…who really needs all that?

Related Reading:

New and Old #50

New and Old #51

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